#look how multicoloured they are

[secondlastk]

POV: you have fucked up big time

[liliavalley]

atrocious outfit but i appreciate the crop top. correcting s4's mistakes here

[the-soup-group]

uhhhh discoveries are being made

we’re gonna use purple for when we don’t know who’s speaking

but basically i don’t think i (pink text) am actually pippa i think she left after he did that exam and i’m called helena (she/her) maybe. so hi :-)

there’s also a guy here called roman (he/they) and he’ll be red

but me, pip and roman are all pretty blurry and roman’s still slowly coming back

[moyazaika]

“honey, i’m home!” except your husband is (slightly) homicidal ❤️

"hello, darling." your husband greets you so sweetly on the porch, a cloying smile plastered on his lips, and a mismatched bouquet of multicoloured daisies, valerians and dying hyacinths clutched in his hands, stained with crimson. "i'm home."

"and what sort of time do you call this, my love?" you return his smile with one of your own. there is something dark and deep in his shallow eyes as he watches you delicately reach for the beautiful, bloodied flowers. "it's well past midnight."

"sorry, sweetheart, i promise i tried to be back before dinner." the soft light of the moon above drapes him in an eerie, haunting glow; illuminating his beautiful features. his eyelashes form soft, dark shadows across his cheeks, looking like long, long scratches.

humming in response to his statement, you bring the mismatched bouquet of flowers closer to your chest, only barely grazing the petals painted in shades of vermillion with the tips of your fingers; a pleased little glint in your own gaze as you watch him, standing still in the doorframe, eyes closed.

"but you must know how hard it is," your husband’s gorgeous eyes flutter open, glittering with mirth. "to climb out of your own grave, right?"

a laugh spills past lips that stretch into a smile as you lean in and softly press a lingering kiss to his jaw. "oh, you absolute angel! if you think climbing out was hard—"

your husband reaches his hand out to gently wipe the blood from your own lips with the back of his bruised hand, raw, scraped knuckles brushing over your skin with a gentleness he reserves solely for you, as you let the flowers fall from your hands; the pretty petals he’d picked out for you curl in on themselves, as this time, his lips find yours first.

"—then you weren't there when i dug it."

his amusement comes in the sound of a deep, low laughter that has you pushing all the parts of your body you know he loves most right up and against him. he welcomes the feeling, greedy hands reaching out to grab you in all the right places; the facade of a gentler man all but forgotten with the way he looks down at you, like a man long starved.

“you could dig a thousand graves for me,” he confesses with a whisper, “and i’d still crawl out and find my way back home to you, my love.”

you roll your eyes, throw your arms over his shoulders and bat your lashes; you revel in the way he tenses at the sight, wonder whose blood is all over his handsome face and wandering hands tonight, before deciding you don’t quite care enough to ask.

instead, another question leaves your lips, and it’s definitely one he’s all too willing to answer, “oh, will you just kiss me already, you horrid man?”

and because your darling husband can never quite bring himself to say no to you; he’s all too happy to oblige.

[sturnioz]

‘BIRTHDAY TREAT’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, established relationship au.

word count. 2.2k

❝how do you want me?❞

content warnings. explicit content, light biting, oral (male receiving), blowjob, light face fucking, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming.

You struggle to contain your growing excitement as Matt walks through the front door of your apartment. His tired, weary face lights up in surprised awe at the sight of the birthday decorations that cover every inch of your living space — different shades of vibrant blue balloons, filled to the brim with helium, are pressed tightly against the ceiling, bobbing gently.

Without warning, you pull the thread of the party popper you have in hand, and a burst of multicoloured confetti sprays straight into Matt’s face, causing him to jump back in startled surprise.

Matt lets out a breathy laugh, dropping his heavy bag down to the floor at his feet as he opens his arms wide, and you are unable to hold yourself back any longer. You run towards him, nearly tackling him with the force of an affectionate hug as you wrap your arms around him as tightly as you possibly can.

He exhales softly, the tension visibly melting from his body as he returns the hug, nuzzling his nose into the crevice of your neck and breathing in your scent. Slowly, he begins to rock your bodies gently from side to side, laying a series of small, delicate kisses across your exposed skin. You can’t help but grin widely, eventually leaning back from the embrace to take a long look at his face. 

Matt looks exhausted, his weary eyes struggling to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time before fluttering closed for brief moments, dark prominent circles visible underneath.

It makes you frown to see just how tired your boyfriend appears, knowing deep down that his busy weekend travelling to visit his family and hometown friends, only to immediately fly back to LA, has taken a significant toll on his body.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for asking him to come over as soon as his plane landed, knowing that he likely should have gone straight home with his brothers to get some much-needed rest. But you missed him a lot, and you certainly didn’t want to miss his birthday.

You move your hand to gently cup his stubbly cheek, caressing it softly with your thumb as you whisper tenderly, “Happy birthday.”

Matt gives you a sluggish, tired smile and murmurs, “Thank you, baby.”

He presses his lips to yours in a slow, unhurried kiss for a few seconds before trailing them down the sensitive skin of your throat. You smile widely at the familiar, loving touch, goosebumps trickling down your spine when you feel his hands dip underneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his palms pressing firmly against the small of your back.

Matt gently nips at your exposed skin, causing your head to tilt to the side and grant him better access, your lips curling into a content grin as his hands slips downwards, fingers splayed across your ass and pulling your body flush against his.

“Are you tired?” You ask, running your fingers through his dishevelled hair.

“Not really,” Matt answers, his voice quiet and a bit uncertain. He doesn’t stop his affectionate ministrations, nipping down harder on your skin in a series of bites, “A little, maybe — I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we go to bed?” You suggest, trying to keep your voice calm and collected even as you feel Matt’s mouth brushing featherlight kisses up the side of your neck. His lips graze over a sensitive spot, causing you to shiver slightly. “Let you rest for a little while, and we can celebrate your birthday tomorrow?”

“I’m not that tired.” Matt tells you, his voice now a bit raspy. He reconnects your lips in a soft, tender kiss, and you sigh, your arms tightening around his shoulders.

The kiss starts sweet and slow, but when you curl your hand at the nape of his neck, Matt’s mouth suddenly moves with more hunger and urgency against yours.

His tongue slides over your own, drawing a low, appreciative moan from deep in his chest. The grip he has on your ass tightens as he tries to pull you even closer, despite you already being as flush against him as physically possible.

You allow him to do whatever he wants, and your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he suckles on your tongue, when he bites down on your bottom lip and pulls at it, when he rubs his front against yours and you feel his hardened cock beneath his jeans.

“Matt.” You call out his name when you break the kiss. You gaze at him intently, noticing how his eyes are still closed, his lips swollen and glistening, his breathing heavy from the lack of oxygen. You gently tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he tiredly blinks his eyes open, finally looking back at you. “What do you want?”

Matt’s gaze is unfocused, but he answers without hesitation. “You. I just… just want you — I missed you s’much.”

You smile at his words that come out slightly rambled and desperate, and you take his hand into your own as you turn and lead him towards your bedroom. He follows closely behind, hovering near you as he drags his shoes across the floorboards, squeezing your hand every so often as if afraid to let go.

When you reach the bedroom, Matt is already heading towards the bed as you close the door behind you. He drops your hand, the metal on his belt clinging as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons on his jeans and pulling down the zipper. He steps out of the denim, ridding himself of the clothing, but in his haste he stumbles a bit over his own feet.

He palms his cock over the front of his boxers and you almost salivate at the sight, having not seen him like this for such a long time, and it makes your thighs press together, watching as he rubs himself over the fabric as he looks at you — waiting for you.

“How do you want me?” You ask him quietly, and he groans loud at the question, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“On your knees.. Please.”

His plea elicits a warmth feeling in your chest and you smile, walking over to stand in front of him before you slowly drop down to your knees, and you tilt your head up to look at him.

He finds you so beautiful — so angelic with your pretty eyes staring at him and he becomes flustered for a moment, licking his lips nervously as he tugs his boxers down his legs, tensing beneath your touch when he feels your fingers ghost over his thighs. 

His cock stands tall once freed completely from the confinements, and he wraps his hand around himself, pressing his lips together tightly as he taps the head of his cock against your lips, and he moans softly when you stick out your tongue to get a taste.

“Put… put it in your mouth f’me.”

You don’t hesitate to do so, spitting on his cock for extra lubrication before taking him in your mouth, reeling at the groans that erupt from his chest as he drops his hand from his cock to rest it on top of your head.

He doesn’t grab at your hair, nor does he control your movements. He allows you to do as you please, watching as you take him further into your mouth and swallow around him, causing you to almost choke when his hips accidentally jerk forward, thrusting down the back of your throat.

“Fuuuuuck…”  Matt drawls, his neck straining as he tilts his head back.

The sounds he makes for you has your mind whirling arousal, wanting nothing more than for him to cum down your throat — wanting to swallow every last drop he gives you.

So, you change your pace, bobbing your head faster on his cock and using your hand to pump the rest of him, and the other fondles his balls which makes him whimper softly, his thighs trembling at your touch.

“You’re so good t’me, y’know that?” Matt suddenly praises you, murmuring under his breath as he strokes the top of your head, looking down at you. “My girl, yeah?”

You hum, the vibrations around his cock causing him to moan loudly, and the grip on your head becomes a little tighter — holding you still as he lazily rolls his hips forwards, and you do your best to swallow around him, trying your hardest not to gag on his size.

“I’ve missed you — missed your mouth, pretty fuckin’ mouth,” Matt whispers, lips parting with a pant as his hips begin to stutter, edging closer and closer to his orgasm, your chest swelling with pride. “Gonna make me cum if you keep lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart.”

“I want you to,” You tell him as you pull your mouth off of his cock but continue jerking him off, grinning as he thrusts in your hand. “Cum on my tongue… you deserve it.”

“N.. no, wait, wait,” Matt’s fingers curl around your wrist and you stop your movements, staring up at him confused. He breathes heavily as he continues, “Can I cum inside you? I — I want to cum inside you.”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you nod, pushing yourself up to stand from your kneeling position and quickly taking off your clothes, dropping them mindlessly to the floor as Matt lays across your bed. He rests his head on the pillows as he stares at you tiredly, outstretching his hand towards you.

You take it, allowing him to pull you on top and he leans up, pressing his lips to yours and craning his neck to kiss you deeper, giving you time to settle yourself above him, resting your knees on either side of his hips.

He lets go of your hand to grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing the skin between his fingers before his hand slides behind your, grabbing at your ass desperately and you fight the urge to laugh, aligning the head of his cock at your entrance.

Breaking away from the kiss, your eyebrows pinch together at the stretch when you ease yourself down on him, your palm flat against Matt’s chest and he gasps, mouth falling open as he draws in a sharp breath.

“Shiiit, Matt…” You mewl once he fills you up completely, buried to the hilt. You would struggle to keep yourself upright if it wasn’t for Matt’s grip on your ass, squeezing you reassuringly, and you begin to slowly start rocking your hips.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows as he furrows them, his mouth ajar as moans and grunts spill from his lips, the tightness and warmth of your pussy making him unable to think, and he flexes his fingers across your ass, lifting his hips upwards to meet your bounces.

Your cunt pulses around him when his gaze meets yours, filled with the love and adoration that would’ve made you start crying if you weren’t so horny and desperate to cum — and for him to cum inside of you.

“Feels s’good,” Matt grunts. “You don’t understand how much I’ve missed being inside of you, sweetheart, missed feeling you like this — think about it all the fuckin’ time… m’crazy about you — seriously.”

“I hope you,” You hum softly, grinding your hips down and rubbing your clit against the smooth skin of his pelvis. “I’m crazy about you too.”

“Ha… shit — makes me feel like one lucky guy,” He dumbly grins up at you, but it slips away in almost an instant when you walls squeeze around his cock, and he curses loud, his hips fucking up into you faster. “You love me?”

“Always.”

“Tell… tell me you love me,” Matt begins to pant heavily, his hands moving from your ass to grab your hips, his thumbs pressing into your flesh. “Fuck — m’gonna cum, baby… tell me you love me.”

You repeat the three words like a mantra as you rock your hips faster, your own orgasm building up. Your voice starts to break, and the tears brim in your eyes at the pace he fucks up into you when he whispers those three words back to you.

He’s filling you up in an instant, spurts of cum painting your insides as your own orgasm hits you, your thighs quivering around his frame. Matt’s in a similar position — trembling beneath you and groaning as his cock pulses, unable to control the thrusting motions of his hips, but gasps due to the sensitivity he feels.

“Fuckin’ shit—fuck,” Matt’s body goes limp, his chest and face flushed, and his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead, eyes on the brink of closing and consuming sleep. You even go to move yourself off of him when you see his exhaustion kicking back in, but he’s whining loudly, his grip tightening. “Wait, no — don’t, stop it — stay.”

“Stay?” You echo back to him, unable to stop the laugh from fleeting past your lips as you push his hair out of his eyes, stroking his cheek affectionately. “We can’t stay like this.”

“Yeah, we can. Please?” You feel yourself crumble a little when you see his pleading eyes look up at you. “Just for a few minutes… yeah? I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

© STURNIOZ

[parfaitblogs]

baby it's halloween ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a mutual friendship leads to a run-in with your ex, and it's halloween, which means you can be anything. even normal with him right?

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: garcia party in rossi HOUSE 💜. alcohol consumption. reader's dressed as a swan (stunning gorgeous amazing). pre established friends with benefits (don't fuck your exes). s10 bau team is there in spirit i think. crazy spare bedroom hookup. brief nipple play. oral (f receiving). fingering. p in v. he dresses you afterwards. porn with plot. oral fixation. soft dom!spencer.  word count: 3.8k a/n: ex spencer reid makes a comeback. this is separate from bad idea right? but same pairing same sitch kind of same everything. LOL. thanks for giving me costume ideas guys. parfaitblogs revival!!! happy birthday spencer reid!!! happy halloween criminal minds tumblr!!!

"Penelope, what the fuck are you wearing?"

It was a very loud exclamation, over the sound of party music that certainly didn't match the overall theme of Halloween. It was only nine o'clock but the fox eared blonde in front of you had lip liner painting her chin, a pink flush on her cheeks barely hidden beneath a layer of makeup, and two cans of some multicoloured premixed vodka drink you weren't sure about trying (despite her holding one out to you). 

"Fox costume. I'm Agnes! From Fantastic Mr. Fox!" Penelope says, cheerfully, urging you to take the drink she had in her hand, not relenting until you did.

"We agreed on swans," you huff, feeling awfully stupid now, in your all white costume, a pair of fluffy wings settled on your back. 

Penelope looked genuinely apologetic for changing her costume idea on you with no warning, and so as she rambled about how she got excited after seeing fox makeup on her phone, you decided it wasn't actually that big of a deal. She finished her spiel with a comment about still technically matching because you're both animals, and it was enough for you to accept. 

She led you further into the house. House, because she had convinced one of her coworkers to let her host a Halloween party at his, claiming her apartment was far too small for such a thing. Apparently he was very easy to convince. 

It was a quick tour of where all the most basic of amenities on the first floor were, before she was shoving a shot glass of vodka into your hand, and encouraging you to take it. 

So you did. 

Perhaps it was a loosening up technique she was using in an attempt to keep you from ripping her head off when she began another conversation with you with the words,

"So, I need to preface before you get too drunk—" a sentence you really had never hoped to hear in your life "—that Spencer's here."

You're not too sure why your world begins to crumble around you at that fact. You figured he would be. In fact, when you were choosing the articles of clothing for your costume a week ago, you had the idea of Spencer Reid seeing you in mind. You had mentally prepared for seeing him. And yet; panic. 

However, instead of making a scene about how anxious that thought made you, you force a small smile onto your face and murmur out, "That's fine."

"Are you sure?" Penelope presses. "You can hover around me the entire night to avoid him, if you want. I'll stay away from him. I'm really sorry for inviting him."

You didn't like that. "No. Pen, it's okay. He's your friend."

"So are you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at her words, a warm feeling spreading throughout it. But, ultimately, you were not the person who wants perfectly good friendships ruined because you're too scared to hold a relationship together. 

"I'll get drunk enough and start talking to him anyways. It's fine," you reassure her. 

And get drunk enough you did. 

You had bumped into him a few times already, making awkward eye contact when you passed him on your way to the kitchen for another drink, or to the bathroom to fix your corset that felt like it was getting tighter every breath you took. 

Yet here you were, stuck between the fridge and him, a collection of things you wanted to both beg him for, and cuss him out because of, sitting delicately on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right trigger word from him.

Unsuccessfully, for he was rocking back on his heels, clasping his hands around the glass of water he was nurturing, keeping the peace between you two and staying silent. 

And you couldn't have that. 

"Hi. How are you?" you chirp after closing the fridge, a can you were getting for Penelope and not yourself now settled between your hands.

"Hi. I'm good," he says, sending you an all too familiar tight lipped smile. One he always did when he was feeling awkward. "How are you?"

"This is really formal," you say, tilting your head to the side. "I'm good."

He nods his head in agreement, and you find every curse word you had ready to yell at him dissipate in an instant. "I like your costume. Swan?"

"Yes," you nod your own head, forcing the flutter of your heart to stop.

You weren't sure what he was when you had first arrived to the party, but a few short exchanged words between the two of you revealed the fake teeth he had settled in his mouth, confirming Penelope's earlier guess that he was a vampire. 

Fitting, you had almost said then. 

"I like yours too," you say after a few beats of awkward silence and you realising you hadn't said much after his compliment. 

"Thank you."

It was an awkward song and dance around the elephant in the room (your relationship, or lack thereof). An even more awkward interaction of him reaching behind you into the fridge to get out a drink for Morgan, and then a breathless apology when he had gotten a bit too close and you hadn't had a conscious enough mind to step back.

"I don't like this," you blurt out.

"What?"

"This. Us," you clarify. "Being awkward. Not talking. We talk fine when we hook up."

Because yes, there's that secret you were keeping hidden away from Penelope. 

"We're preoccupied during that."

"I'd argue seeing each other naked once a week is much more awkward than bumping into each other drunk, at a party."

"I'm not drunk."

Right. You knew that. Spencer Reid didn't drink. It was why the cup in his hand was only water, and the alcoholic beverage in his other wasn't for him. 

If you were any less buzzed you probably wouldn't say the unfortunately very embarrassing sentence you let leave your lips, that sounded a little foreign even to you. 

"Then do we need to see each other naked tonight to make this not awkward?"

His lips parted and he froze, rightfully so. You weren't sure how you'd react to somebody asking you that either. It seemed awfully blunt for even you, and if you were any sane person, you'd probably be backtracking to take it back. Instead, you were just as frozen as him, fearful for how he would respond. 

"No," he says, but there was a strain in his voice that told you otherwise. Thankfully, you had enough self restraint to not call him out on that. 

"No?" you tilt your head to the side.

"No, we don't need to. Do you want to?"

Does it make you a horrible person to say yes? To take advantage of one of the many rooms littering the Rossi house, and use a situational run-in to have sex with your ex-boyfriend?

Probably.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I like how you look tonight."

Your heart rate speeds up. "That isn't an answer."

"Yes," he says. "I do."

The kitchen was left empty with a glass of water and two unopened cans on the countertop, that Derek Morgan was no doubt bound to discover when Spencer never returns. Followed closely by — probably — Penelope discovering the same about you. Which would probably lead to the discovery of the friends (were you friends?) with benefits situation the two of you had. 

You've barely stepped into the spare room he had located before he's kissing you. Feverishly, devouring you whole, as your back is pressed up against the door. Your wings dug into your shoulder blades, the feathers tickling your arms, and yet you couldn't find it in you to care. 

"Spencer."

His response to your plea of his name is to kiss you harder, fingers entangling in your hair, and you think if he pushes against you any more, you'll meld to the atoms of the door. 

"You taste like alcohol," he mutters against your lips. 

"Funny that."

"Are you drunk?"

"I'll remember this all in five minutes, if that's what you mean."

"Sort of."

His mouth detaches from yours, and there's a desperation in the way he kisses down your neck you don't think you'll ever get used to, no matter how many times he does it. 

It was a heartbreaking reality of the difference between how he would have sex with you then, and now. 

It's his grumbling that forces you to focus on him again, and not the comparative thoughts you have whirring in your brain. His fingers are fumbling with the lacing on your back, as he says, irritation you find almost hilarious in his tone, "I hate corsets."

"You said you liked it earlier."

"I liked it when I wasn't trying to take it off of you."

You smile. "I'll wear something more convenient for you next time."

"Yes. Thank you," he nods, successfully loosening the lacing enough so he could take the corset off of your body. "T-shirts are good."

"Duly noted." 

"Or nothing. Nothing's better," he adds, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands dropping to your chest — completely bare, considering you couldn't justify the wearing of a bra beneath the corset. 

"I'll ask the board."

You feel him smile against your lips, his hands cupping your chest, thumbs delicately running over your nipples to elicit a breathless whine from you. Ever so careful, he uses his thumbs to circle them, amused with just how easy it was to fluster you.

His lips trail down from your lips again, his hands dropping to your waist, using his hips to nudge you towards the bed.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you wince, although any pain dissipates as he murmurs a gentle apology and lowers the two of you to the bed. 

It's quite amusing; the articles of clothing you're removing from your bodies. You didn't think feathered wings and a Dracula-esque cape piling together on the floor would be a sight you ever saw in this context, and yet. 

"What do you want, honey?" he asks you, though your brain is a little preoccupied with his pulling of your skirt down your legs, fingers brushing against your skin. He forces your focus back onto him again with the calling of your name, and a kiss to your inner thigh. 

"What're you willing to give me?" 

"You know I'd do anything."

Your heart soars. Yes, you do know that. He loves to prove that feat to you. 

"I don't know," you shake your head. "Whatever you want. You choose. My gift to you this Halloween."

It was a tradition you had started with him three years ago, on your first Halloween together. You knew how important the holiday was to him, and so you had bought him a plethora of decor for his apartment (on top of what he already had). You had helped him set it up, and later that week he had gifted you a charm bracelet with a pumpkin clasp. Every Halloween since, you bought him more decor, and he bought you a Halloween inspired charm for the bracelet. 

This was your first Halloween where you weren't together. 

"I didn't get you a charm."

"That's okay," you reply, earnestly. 

"You're so wet," is voice is breathless, changing the topic of conversation awfully quickly. For his eyes had dropped to the only item of clothing you still had on, and his fingers had trailed far enough up your thighs to brush over it. 

"Do something about it then," you retort, bluntly, and he smiles amusedly. 

He probably murmurs something about you being a brat, but his hands were pulling your underwear down your legs, and you should not be expected to focus on two maddening things at once. 

Thankfully, he does do something about it. And quite quickly, too. Wasting no time teasing like he usually does, instead attaching his lips to your core, tugging a moan from your lips. 

His tongue licks a stripe up the centre of your folds, circling your clit, expertly so. 

"Oh God," you whine out, breathlessly, head falling backwards and digging into the mattress beneath. Sinful as it was, Spencer's tongue on you did feel like the closest thing you'd ever have to a religious experience, a thought that had crossed your mind the many times he's done this before. 

Once he's sure his tongue flicking over your clit had worked you up enough, you're forced into shock as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Lack of hand-eye coordination aside, he's well versed in the art of using two different body parts at once to make you come, and yet you're still writhing beneath him like it's the first time.

Sometimes it felt like it was. 

"Spencer," you nearly cry out, if not for your hand flying to your mouth to muffle how loud you had anticipated you'd be. 

He pulls his lips away at that, instead lifting his head to hover over yours, as he pushes a single finger inside you. Even when your eyes flutter closed and your head tilts back further, you can still feel his gaze on you, as if in awe of the way you looked. 

"That was so easy," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "You really did want me to do this tonight, hm?"

Too wrapped up in the feeling of being touched by him again, all you can do is nod your head, and you feel him smile against your cheek. 

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl."

He captures your lips again, swallowing a string of moans that leave your lips when he begins to move his finger in and out. Finger that becomes fingers, for he's pushing another one in, and you're arching your back up as you attempt to accomodate to the stretch. 

"I know, I know," he repeats when your head jerks back as your lips part in another, this time silent, moan. "I shouldn't have missed last week, hey? I'm sorry I was out of state."

You want to tell him it's okay. That you didn't really mind being celibate for an extra seven days on top of the six the two of you leave between your nights together. Unfortunately, growing accustomed to a once a week cycle meant the interruption of it left you overwhelmingly easy to shatter with the simplest of touches. You did mind, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. 

"Please," you ask him, almost pathetically, when he curls his fingers and your entire brain goes fuzzy.

"Please what, honey?"

You're not sure what. More of his fingers? His tongue back on you? You want it all. Yet, time was unfortunately of the essence, and you were acutely aware of the ticking alarm clock in view on the bedside table. You did not have the minutes to receive absolutely everything you wanted from him.

"Want you to fuck me," you murmur. 

He breathes out a laugh. "I know. I'm going to, I promise. I just need to get you ready first, okay? How're you feeling?"

"Ready." Your voice is an impatient grumble, one that amuses him greatly, which frustrates you even more. 

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, pushing his fingers back inside of you to elicit a sharp whine from your lips. "I want to do this a little longer, anyways."

"Spencer."

Your protest and attempt to bribe him with a kiss is hopeless, for he is continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, using your arguably selfish kiss to quiet every single sound you make. 

It isn't until you're quite literally writhing beneath him and begging him with an incessant repeat of his name, does he pull his fingers out of you. Tapping your lower lip with them, you take his fingers into your mouth, despite your panting and attempts at catching your breath. 

You want to close your eyes, but the way he's looking at you as you suck on his fingers is borderline ridiculous, and you should probably be locked up for just how attracted to it you are. 

He trails his fingers out of your mouth after a few moments, but any desire to protest that is lost on you when your eyes catch his removal of his boxers. 

He disappears from above you for only a minute, though he knows you too well and says, "I'm getting a condom," before you have a chance to start complaining about it. By the time he's returned, he's kissing you again, and you've forgotten all about your irritation.

The head of his cock pushes at your entrance, and you're already a mess. He's slow as he eases into you, and you're eternally grateful for it, because your entire body tenses up, and he's forced to pause, and ease your muscles with his hands kneading your thighs. 

"I'm sorry," he says, genuinely, when your eyes squeeze shut, and you're back to remembering why you're not happy about the dreadful thirteen day celibacy he forced upon you. But he's so nice, and so apologetic, that as he bottoms out, your hands are wrapping around his neck to provide him with silent forgiveness. 

He stays still for a few more moments, his lips tickling your jawline. His breath fans your skin, warm, and just as desperate as your own, which is comforting. 

"Tell me when you're okay," he says, quietly, breathing out a moan when your walls flutter around him. 

After a beat, you murmur, "I'm okay," and he pulls his hips back, before rolling them back into you, slowly. 

You're a puddle of content and pleasure and love as he repeats the gentle motions of fucking you, moaning and squirming beneath him, despite his hands on your hips in an attempt to keep you still. 

"Doing so well for me, honey," he tells you after a few minutes, and heat warms your cheeks at the compliment. He laughs at your bashful smile. "You feel so good."

He moves his hips a little faster, and you're moaning again, hands dropping from his neck to the mattress. At that, he picks up his ministrations once again. All up until all the tender, slow motions are gone, and he's listening to your throat produce broken whines and pleas, his own presenting breathless groans.

"Spencer," you gasp out at one particular thrust, and he's instantly repeating that same deep movement. "Oh fuck."

"Like that?" he asks you, tenderly, and you're frantically nodding your head. "God, look at you. You're so pretty when I do this to you, you know?"

Vulgarity — in any form — coming from Spencer Reid's mouth should sound foreign, and yet it doesn't. Though, perhaps you're too lost in the pleasure of just how good he feels to believe he's anything but perfect.

"I want to come," you tell him, a disguised plea.

"Okay. I can make that happen."

You know he can. He's proven it a thousand times, you're sure. 

One of his hands drops to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and timing the circles onto it with his thrusts, until you're pretty sure there is no longer a coherent thought in your brain that isn't simply him.

If his aim was to turn you into a mess with very little time, he was excelling above average. Your hands had grabbed fistfuls of the duvet cover atop of the bed, your mouth producing nothing but a constant repeat of, "Please," and "Spencer," one after the other. 

He wasn't surviving very well, either, you found. His breathing heavy and his thrusts growing sloppier by the second, until he was feeling your own walls clench around him with your stomach tying itself into a knot. 

He forced his hips to keep moving, albeit much more messy now, as he moaned against your skin, his own orgasm wracking through his body, while still attempting to chase your own. 

It didn't take much more than that, to be honest, and your entire body went boneless and shattered beneath him as you came too.

Jelly seemed like an apt description for what you felt as you relaxed in the bed and your nerves began to calm down, Spencer breathing heavily above you. Up until he was sliding out of you, and standing up on legs you could see shaking, perhaps just as much as your own. 

He's disposing of his condom as you lay there, attempting to regain your breath, eyes fixated on the ceiling above you. He's shuffling around more than you'd expect for a simple trash trip, but then you feel hands on your ankles, and your head snaps down to find him kneeling at the foot of the bed, gently tugging your underwear back up your legs. 

"I know it's not ideal," he says, when your face scrunches up as the piece of fabric lands back on your hips. "But I also know your skirt is too short to not wear these."

"I'll get over it," you reply, letting him redress you with delicate fingers that leave your entire body hot, with goosebumps rising on the skin.

"Yeah," he agrees, though half-heartedly, expert fingers clasping your bra back onto your body. 

Once your skirt is back on, he helps you up into a seated position, helping to reapply the feathered head piece you had on. 

It's oddly intimate, way he's kneeling in front of you, breath warm against your face as he clips the feathers into your hair. Your breathing hitches as his hands drop back to your thighs upon finishing, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

"Everybody's gonna know what we did," you say, quietly, for it was true. You two had been gone for too long of a time for people to not draw correct conclusions. 

"They already know we do." Hook up.

"What? How?"

"You need to stop telling Garcia things."

Your face falls, and he smiles, sympathetically, thumbs drawing gentle circles on the skin of your thighs. 

"At least you don't work with them."

"I guess there's that," you confirm with a small nod.

He's silent for a few more moments, simply staring at you and studying your face, before he sighs, and goes to pick up your corset. 

"You need to go to the bathroom after this," he instructs you, though gently, motioning for you to stand up and turn around so he could do up the dreaded lacing. 

"I know. Don't worry."

"Good," he replies, your skin tingling with every extra bit of pressure he put on your back as he laced up your corset. "You feel okay?"

"Yes," you nod your head. "Do you?"

"I do," he confirms for you, tying off the lacing and tapping your hip so you could turn back around. 

You do, and your eyes flicker up to his face. "Do you also promise not to make me wait two weeks again?"

"I'll talk to the board."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[inkdrinkerworld]

“Sirius please come see, I won’t put them in your hands. I promise.” Your sunglasses are keeping your hair out of your face as you hold pretty multicoloured shells in your hand.

“I’m coming poppet. I got you a freezie so you don’t pass out.” His footsteps trail behind him in the soft, cool sand - perfect combatant to the heat that has sweat pearling against his chest.

It’s a hot day out at the beach, barely any clouds to shield you from the sun. You’d made Sirius reapply your sunscreen three times already and reapplied his twice as much even though he hated the smell of it.

Sirius holds the straw to your lips, watching you take a large gulp.

“What do you have there, lovie?” He spots something wriggling in your palm, a little grossed out but putting on a brave face.

“Donax clams,” you use one of your hands to drip a little water over the clams so Sirius can see them open. “Look, the meat inside is edible too. Don’t you think this one kinda looks like your eyes?”

Sirius suppresses a shudder. He doesn’t know how you’re so calm about them wiggling in your palm. He also doesn’t really think they look like his eyes, a little too much green for his cool, almost purple silver eyes- still he hums.

“Are you going to catch them and cook them at the house?” Sirius is fearful of your answer, maybe you want to make him try this strange looking meat.

“No! I put them back when I run out of water,” you wait for the tide to come in a little and place your hand in the water, watching the shell wiggle out of your hand and into the sand. “See?”

Sirius smiles, kissing your cheek.

“I see, poppet.”

He wipes sand from your forehead and collarbone, feeding you more sips of the watermelon freezie as you catch and release your clams.

Sirius listens to you whisper to them, ask them how deep the burrow and even ask them if they know where you can find bigger shells to add to your collection.

He suspects it’s a little strange, but he doesn’t think it is. He quite likes that you’re so eccentric about everything. Sirius cups a bit of water and lets it run down your back, smiling when you sigh.

“Wanna go under the shade? I could get you a cold coconut?” Sirius can see the tan lines coming in under your bathing suit- you’d been in the sun for most of the time you’d been here and he worried you might get heat exhaustion.

Your eyes brighten. Sirius might not be a master at knowing all the little creatures, but he is a master at you. “With the super soft jelly inside?”

“Only the best for my girl,” he kisses your lips, watermelon freezie all he can taste. “C’mon poppet, wash up.”

[jolalibrary]

you're a prize

joel miller x f!reader

summary: it's date night, and joel takes you to the fair

wordcount: 1.9k warnings: allusion and minor mention of smut. no outbreak. established relationship. joel is cute and wants to win you something. an: written for @iamasaddie's zodiac sign edition writing challenge. i got the lovely joel, fair au and virgo. I ignored the word limit, I’m sorry!!! thank you to the @thetriumphantpanda for proofing this little baby for me.

The air smells sweet as you step out of his truck.

Popcorn, cotton candy, and fried treats waft through the air, mingling with the cooling evening breeze as you take in the colourful stalls and bright lights.

The sound of his door slamming brings your attention back to him. His face is tight, unreadable—chest slightly puffed out, his hands fidgeting with his belt before he runs a thumb along the tucked-in edges of his shirt. Fixing. Adjusting for perfection, as though this were your first date and not close to the hundredth. When his eyes finally meet yours, you grin a little wider, and his own smile begins to break through.

It had been Tommy’s idea—but you’d suspected it was actually Sarah’s. The masterplan being laid out when you’d made coffee, the promise of an empty home, a coincidentally timed advert in the newspaper about the fair being in town as you looked at Joel:

Wanna take me to the fair, Miller? Show me how teenage you would have wooed me.

Sometimes, you can’t quite believe he’s yours.

A thing you’d said when you’d begun getting ready, your outfit laid out, putting your necklace on when he’d walked into the bedroom, shirt open, jeans unfastened, belt hanging there—a sinful picture that somehow was real and yours.

It’s why you’d breathed it out, caught off guard, made the two of you leave far later than you’d told yourselves when he’d left this morning. Your eyes having dragged up and down his frame in the mirror before you pressed the very same words to his mouth. Hungry, all of a sudden desperate. Fabric dragged down his arms, jeans somewhere at his ankles—pulling and tugging, needing more until he was on his back and you found yourself sliding down his cock, finding all semblance of words unable to form.

Somehow, even now, an hour later, you have to pinch yourself.

Unable to wrap your head around the fact that your things are alongside his. That you wake up and sleep beside him. A chance encounter, a right-place-right-time, turned relationship.

A thing you know he thinks too—confirming as much when sleep threatens to take him, the veil of honesty at its thinnest as he murmurs about not deserving you, that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you the first time you’d met.

He makes up for the handful of hours he can give you between working, parenting and sleeping, by writing poems between your thighs, scriptures against your skin, mouth and neck. Making promises he did his darndest to keep.

“You look good, Miller. Don’t worry.”

“Not worryin’.”

You make a soft noise to yourself, offering your hand as the strings of multicoloured bulbs draped between the parking lot and the stalls flicker on, casting a warm glow across his face as you smile at him.

Date nights happen so infrequently, that you’re not sure you remember how they go outside of takeout and movies on the sofa. Not that you complain, happily trade almost any evening for one of them.

“God, you’re handsome,” you whisper, tightening your fingers around his hand—looping them, feeling how much larger his is, than yours—as your other arm bends at the elbow, slinging around his neck. “Fuck I’m one lucky lady.”

He snorts, loudly. His eyes flick to the side before they land back on you, bashful, soft, as he clears his throat and you scrape your nails against his scalp. “Think I’m the lucky one.”

You smile, all uncontrollably as you inhale the scent of his aftershave. It’s all wooden-edged, peppery—just him. Reminded all of a sudden to the wisp of it the night prior, the fan having picked it up, blew it across the room as you turned a page in your book and heard him sigh, would do anythin’ for you.

“I could kiss you.”

Licking his lips, flicking his gaze from yours to your mouth and back. “Yeah?”

You wonder if he catches how it leaves his lips. How wrecked it sounds, how it’s more gravel than velvet, making heat bloom in your stomach as you draw a shape along his scalp.

“Could. But won’t. I think I need a corndog, maybe a ride on the Big Wheel. Real date night vibes first—not often we have some alone time. Don’t want to squander what Tommy has given us.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head, “Tommy.”

Grinning, you nudge into him when he tugs you to begin walking. Glancing up to notice how the sky is shifting in real-time from deep blue to velvet indigo—feeling him release your hand, to slide an arm around your waist. Guiding. Leading through shifting crowds.

You feel grateful, almost overwhelmed, as you take in the scene around you. On both sides, colourful stalls burst with energy, each humming excitedly. The ring toss calls to you with glistening glass bottles and the satisfying clink of rings, while the joyful pops of balloons from a nearby dart game fill the air.

It becomes apparent, quickly, you’re not sure where he’s leading you—not as you pass cheers that grab your attention, only jolting back to him when he comes to a stop at a stall. One less busy, the outer edge overflowing with giant stuffed animals and oddities—

“Hey look, it’s you.”

Your eyes narrow, flitting around, staring as he squeezes your hip.

“There,” he whispers.

All gruff, right into your ear. His breath dances along your cheek. Making your throat dry, making heat bloom between your legs when his chest becomes flush with your spine, and you follow where his finger is pointing, finding at the end of it—

“A sloth. Like you.”

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His laugh ripples out of him, loud, cracking in places as he wraps an arm around your chest, keeping you pinned—letting you feel how it rumbles through him, vibrating your bones with it as you find it hard not to join him. Shaking your head, but smirking, staring up at him before he presses the softest kiss to your forehead.

The same kind he leaves in the morning when he gets up before you; the same one he leaves on your skin when he walks in and finds dinner cooked, and the evidence of a hard day on your face. The same one that means three words, a thing you’re happy to take, each and every time.

“Gonna win it for you.”

“Joel, c’mon, you don’t need to do that, can just go on the ride, grab a snack and go—”

“I’ll be quick. Promise,” he replies, tightening his hold across your chest, mouth dropping back to your ear as children scream as they run past, “Lemme win you a prize, baby.”

Rolling your eyes, tongue in cheek as you stare at him. “What if you’re the only prize I need?”

He contemplates, in the way he always does—mouth scrunching up, nose twitching. “Still gonna win you a sloth.”

Folding your arms, you see little point in arguing. Resting your hip against the side, watching him familiarise himself with the goal: aim the rifle at the row of little metal flaps and shoot them down one by one—each having painted in little ducks on in faded yellows, and in your opinion had seen better days.

It's odd to see a rifle in his hand—wooden, smooth, worn from countless hands over the years. You're so used to seeing him with a tool of some kind or a coffee mug when he's at home.

Joel's first go isn’t too bad. The second, third and fourth, range from worse to about the same.

Each time, he grumbles—a little grunt here, a fuck there. It hissed, whispered—right under his throat with the passing reminder of children still running around the place—as you shift from leaning to standing, and arms folded to hanging loose at your sides.

“Joel, c’mon, let’s go play something else—”

“Goddammit, I can do this.”

Placing your hand on his forearm, feeling it twitch under, spotting the way his bicep twitches under the fabric of his shirt, you busily focus on his face. “Hey, I know you can. But, I want to go on The Big Wheel—maybe, make out a little, you know? Little over the clothes. See what it was like to date teenage Joel Miller.”

His jaw ticks—teeth running over his bottom lip as his nostrils flare as he inhales. His grip remains tight on the toy, fingers flexing over the trigger as your palm rubs in a line up and down his arm.

“One more go, promise.”

Smiling, you close your eyes and shrug—dropping your hand. “One more go.”

Stepping back, watching him nod to the man to reset the metal flaps, you have a thought. “Hey.”

Brown eyes meet yours—the bulbs of the stall reflecting in them, making them shimmer, shine. His face smoothed out, soft, as though work hadn’t been stressing him for weeks, as though bills hadn’t been keeping him awake.

“You win me that sloth, Miller, maybe I’ll ask the guy at the Big Wheel if we can stop at the top and admire the view.”

His eyes narrow, staring, your tongue dragging along your upper lip before your teeth bite on your lower and you tilt your head. Then, his eyes flash.

Head turning, cracking it on either side as he adjusts his stance and squares his shoulders—his grip different, almost more expert as you press your thighs together at the sight of his arm flexing again, his neck tensing.

Then, he knocks one down and your pulse hammers in your ears. The second makes you jump a little, as your heart skips a beat in your chest.

And you know he still has three attempts for the third, plenty of time. But you pinch your thigh through the fabric skating over them. Trying to level your breathing; trying to not move in anticipation. Fingers almost wanting to cross as you stare at him, admiring, unable to tear your eyes away from him—

Then the third rings out.

Metal clanging—a win announced, practically bellowing and vibrating through the air as he cheers when the bell is rung and you find yourself with your arms around his neck. You don’t think as you press a kiss—all painted in joy, happiness and pride—against his cheek. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest when your hand slides over it, rubbing, trying to soothe it as he shakes his head in disbelief when the toys is held out to him.

He takes it, his hand large and strong, the same one that just skillfully shot down metal ducks to win you a prize. As he hands it to you, his other arm slips gently around your waist.

“Told you I’d win you it.”

“My hero,” you smirk, tapping his nose with the sloth’s hand.

Feeling him pinch your side, forcing a giggle out, he drops his voice again, “C’mon, want my prize now.”

“Am I not your prize?” you tease, smiling, faking innocence as he stares—blinking, unsure what to say.

“Some parts of you more than others.”

Grinning, mouth falling open in shock, you hear him chuckle. “Good job I’m interested in finding out what winning tastes like.”

His eyes darken, lips parting as you watch him swallow, before he groans all in the back of his throat. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Wanna see how much it costs us to have five minutes at the top?”

Joel practically drags you towards the Big Wheel, the fair music blaring from it as you clutch the sloth toy tight to your waist, trying to keep up with him, grinning, from ear to ear.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[2.7K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #3

You didn’t have to wait seven whole days to see Steve again, and when you did, it wasn’t poolside.

This meant that between you both, there were a lot more clothes than normal, but you found out the hard way that that fact didn’t really make a difference to the effect he now had on you. There was a party at some rich kids house on the outskirts of town, someone called Sam that neither you nor Eddie knew all that well but Robin used to work with him at the Shake Shack and well-- if Robin was going somewhere, Steve followed, and if Steve was allowed through the door, that meant Eddie had a ticket in too.

If Eddie was there? High chance you were too.

It’s how you ended up in a neighbourhood that rivalled even Steve’s, each house sprawled out across green manicured lawns and the pools out the back were almost as large as the one you were learning in, a shiny red slide to boot. Three stories, arched windows, a winding driveway to a three door garage and when you entered behind Eddie, the crystal chandelier in the foyer was vibrating to the beat of the music.

Two guys you recognised from the trailer park grabbed Eddie as he pushed his way through the crowd, your fingers hooked in his as he dragged you behind him. They were ready with cash, bills rolled up and an eagerly impatient look in their already glassy eyes, so you waved the boy away and headed to the kitchen, a safe enough sanctuary as you skirted around the makeshift dance floor that had been created in the living room. It seemed that anyone over seventeen and anyone under thirty was at the party, the large space full to the brim with drunken strangers, people moving to the synths of INXS.

The pushed back furniture made it difficult to move around the gyrating bodies, Sam’s parent’s cream coloured carpet already stained and sticky with questionable substances. The lights had been switched off and someone had strung multicoloured Christmas lights around the curtain poles, around the second chandelier above the coffee table. There was a broken disco ball sitting in a wall sconce, pink and green and blue hitting off each mirrored tile, making everything glitter.

You saw Steve before you could make it to the kitchen, rainbows on his cheeks, a stripe of colours across his lips. He was talking to a girl - a pretty redhead who had a drink in one hand and Steve’s bicep in another. The sight of him made you feel as warm as a saturday morning, as if you were walking into water with his naked chest in front of you, his pink cheeks and sleep mussed hair just for your eyes only. It felt almost unfair to see him now, surrounded by others, touched by someone else. He looked just as pretty with a striped shirt on, his hair styled and curling around his ears and neck, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket as the other gripped a beer.

His gaze caught your own, a fleeting thing before recognition clicked at the sight of you and then Steve was moving, the redhead’s fingers catching at his sleeve before he was in front of you, her frown behind him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Steve was smiling, eyes drinking in the corners like he was genuinely happy to bump into you. He craned his neck and spotted Eddie, raising his beer in greeting. “You want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled back, heart in your throat because Steve was placing a familiar hand on the small of your back in order to steer you into the kitchen and Eddie was grinning, a full beam that made your cheeks warm. “A drink sounds good.”

You let Steve pour you a vodka and lemonade, and he fumbled an ice tray he found in the back of the freezer, the fizz spilling over the rim of the glass as he handed it to you with a grin. You watched him lick the soda from his fingers, his eyes on yours as he smiled still, his cheeks a little pink and it felt like you were back in middle school and the pretty, popular boy was giving you too much attention.

You weren’t sure why, but you lapped it up happily.

Taking a gulp, you hummed, happy that your drink didn’t burn on the way down and Steve stayed close, his hand gone from the small of your back but his shoulder bumped yours and you could smell his cologne, leftover sunscreen and hairspray.

“You ready for lesson three tomorrow or are you planning on getting black out?” Steve asked with raised brows. “I gotta tell you now, legally, I’m not covered for drownings due to hangovers.”

You rolled your eyes, lips lifting into a smile you tried to suppress because you had absolutely no intention of getting messy drunk in the vicinity of Steve Harrington, with or without the threat of swimming the day after.

“It depends,” you joked anyway, “what does lesson three include?”

Steve smirked, leaning close, hair falling across his forehead and you could see the freckles over his nose, the glint of the chain he wore flashing under the collar of his t-shirt. “M’not sure I should tell you now.” He was all charm, a cheekiness you normally didn’t get to see up close. “You might stand me up.”

You scoffed, a dismissive sound that barely covered your embarrassment because you were sure that your eyes were wide enough to show off how flustered you were. You took another long sip, lemonade and bubbles coating your tongue and you watched Steve stare at the way you licked the vodka from your lips.

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” you murmured, barely heard over the thud of the music.

The boy beamed, ecstatic. “You wouldn’t?”

“Not unless you were planning something drastic, you know, like swimming.”

A laugh burst from Steve’s chest, his eyes shining with an amusement you were proud of producing. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, spreading his feet wide enough that you were able to stand between them. Not too close, not too suggestive, just close enough to each other that girls glared at you and no one tried to interrupt.

“Swimming? In a pool?” Steve cocked his head to the side, one hand nursing his beer, the other reaching out to poke at your side. You squirmed, amazed at how such a friendly touch seemed just as intimate as his hands on your bare back, keeping you afloat. He frowned at you, all faux confusion that made him look unbearably cute. “Who the fuck would think of that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to stop smiling. Come to think of it, your cheeks ached a little, your grin permanently etched onto your lips since you saw Steve, whether it was from being flustered or amused. Your cheeks felt hot, your chest light and you barely noticed anyone else in the room.

It’s why you jumped when two hands caught your shoulders, a diabolical cackle in your ear as you recognised the scent of smoke and old spice a little too late. Eddie smelled like childhood and home but now, standing in a strangers kitchen with Steve Harrington, you couldn’t have been less impressed with your friend’s appearance.

“Hey, there’s a good chance I can shift the last of this green if I hit up this party on Maple Street,” Eddie half yelled over the music, his arm draped over your shoulder in a too familiar way. You wanted to elbow him. “You comin’ with or—?”

He was glancing at Steve over your head, brows raised, suggestive and waiting on an answer from him rather than you. You swallowed hard, noticing how Steve had seemed just as disappointed as you at Eddie’s arrival but he shrugged, nonchalant. “I could walk you home later,” the beer in his hand glinted in the low light, his fingers tightening around it. He smiled, eyes soft, “I don’t mind.”

You wanted to say yes. Fuck, you wanted to say yes so bad and the word was costing your tongue, buzzing and excited, a fizzy candy explosion. But you took too long to look at the boy, tanned skin and messy hair, scruff on his jaw that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, the freckles on his cheeks and neck that made you want to touch them.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed a boy, never mind one you really liked. And perhaps that wasn’t even on the cards, maybe Steve didn’t like you in that way at all - but the idea of being alone in the darkened room with strangers, people you didn’t know and people who wouldn’t care if you fell into each other - it suddenly seemed a little too much for one night.

“Um, it’s— it’s okay,” you told him regretfully. You hated the way his eyes seemed to lose a little warmth, his lips turning down before he righted himself. “I should probably just go with Eddie.”

“Pussy,” Eddie coughed, barely concealed and Steve stared at the ground, cheeks pink.

You really did elbow your friend then, the sharp point of your arm finding his rims and he kicked at the back of your heel, childlike in the way he scuffled to get you back in a way that really wasn’t subtle.

“Thank you, though,” you smiled at Steve, hopeful that he’d return the gesture. He did, although not as warm as before, not as confident as he’d been as he’d guided you to the kitchen with a wide hand on your back. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, right?”

Steve sank the last of his drink, licking it from his lips before nodding. He was already back out of the kitchen and you tried not to look defeated. “Yeah, ‘course,” he told you. “See you in the morning.”

“Well,” Eddie watched Steve retreat, his hand slapping down on your slumped shoulder. “You fucked that, didn’t you?”

Steve was already in the pool when you arrived the next morning, still sleep mussed and frazzled from the way your alarm had blared too loud. Despite three weeks of early mornings, it was still a struggle to pull yourself from bed. But the promise of a warm day, pink-blue skies and Steve Harrington made it so much easier than you ever thought.

You paused at the loungers for longer than you needed, your toes curling at the thought of stripping off your shorts and shirt because the swimsuit underneath was newer and skimpier and cherry red. Steve was underwater, swimming effortlessly beneath the surface from the shallows to the depths you weren’t brave to venture to yet.

So you took the opportunity to pull off your t-shirt, a ratty old thing that used to be Eddie's and you cursed picking it up from your floor, hoping Steve wouldn’t get the wrong idea despite how many times you’d told him that Eddie was just your friend.

You let it fall to the sun warmed tiles just as Steve broke the surface, pushing his hair back with one hand as he grasped the edge of the pool with the other. He grinned when he saw you, a familiar and friendly thing that made your heart jump but his gaze darted to your chest, just for a second, just for a tiny moment, and you remembered to feel shy.

“New suit?” Steve asked, sounding casual, his brows raised as if it didn’t really matter what the answer was.

You wondered what he’d say if you told him you’d bought it with him in mind, what he’d say if he knew you’d stared at your half naked frame in your bedroom mirror for far too long, inspecting each curve, each bruise, all the old silver scars and stretch marks, stripes along your thighs that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. This suit dipped low in the back, as modest as it still was in the chest. Would he think your boobs were too small? Too big? Too flat? Uneven? Could he tell?

Would it matter?

It was a vibrant colour against your skin, the same red as the cherries you’d scooped in your smoothie before you’d left, a shade off of Steve’s lifeguard shorts. It seemed too bright now, too silly, but you nodded regardless and tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Steve leant on the pool edge, chin resting on his tanned forearms, water dripping from his wet hair, clinging to his too long lashes. He tilted his head, appraising, gaze gentle, never staring. “S’nice. Colour looks good on you.”

His words made it a lot easier for you to unbutton your shorts and slip the denim over your hips. Chin ducked, you couldn’t hold eye contact, not bold enough quite yet. But you let the shorts drop from your thighs, hitting the tiles and you kicked them under the sun lounger as you flicked off your sliders at the same time. The sun was already blazing, rising higher in the sky, turning the tangerine edges into a warm blue and the heat of it slipped over your skin like a blanket.

Feeling a little less naked than before, you walked to the shallows, Steve swimming the length of the pool to meet you. You stopped just shy of the stairs, lips pressed together and brow furrowed, contemplating. Steve stopped too, watchful as you considered your next move the boy positively beamed when you dropped down to sit at the edge of the water.

The surface lapped at Steve waist when he stood, not too deep but certainly not the gentle entrance you’d become accustomed to. You cringed as you slipped both feet into the cool water, hands curling around the edge of the pool until your knuckles burned.

“Yeah?” Steve coaxed, sounding impressed. Proud. “You’ve got it. You can just slide right in, you’ll touch the bottom.”

You knew you would. The logic was in front of you, just like the bottom of the pool was very much visible. Looking down, you could see Steve’s feet on the tiles, rippling into funny shapes and sizes, his bare legs, just as tanned as the rest of him and dusted with coarse hair. He was planted there firmly, no current or waves to knock him over, steady as ever.

He lay his hands on the top of the water, palms up. His gaze met your own, his smile warmer than the morning. “I’m right here.”

It was comforting, his words, his closeness, even if you didn’t take his hands, he kept them there, waiting. It was enough for you to lean forward, bum slipping off of the warm tiled edge and into the cool water. You gasped as always from the shock of the temperature difference, the water rippling around the tops of your ribs and it was enough to make your nipples pebble, glaringly obvious under the new, thinner material of your suit.

If Steve noticed, he didn’t dare look down.

He did take a step forward though, enough for his toes to touch yours and you could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose, could see the chlorine water that still made his lashes cling together in spikes. It was intimate enough to make you wonder if something like this would’ve happened the night before if you’d stayed. If you had let Eddie and the boy shaped comfort blanket that he was go, if you’d hung back with Steve and shared secrets and drinks under the multicoloured lights, if you’d let him walk you home under the glow of street lamps.

If he would’ve kissed you at your front door.

But then the gate clanked noisily against the chain link fence and there was a splash big enough to soak your chest and the side of your face - Steve’s too - both screwed up in shock.

Eddie appeared from the water - the deeper, indigo coloured end - shaking his sopping curls like a wet, disobedient dog, his tattooed chest bare and much paler than Steve’s. He grinned through his curls, oblivious to whatever he’d just interrupted, his arms spread wide.

“What’s up, fuckers?”

[marlsswrites]

June 25th <3

Horoscope - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1400

“Where are you two off to?” Barty spoke as he ran up behind Regulus and Pandora in the tall, stone walls of Hogwarts.

“Divination.” Pandora replies distractedly, much more interested in braiding a small piece of blonde hair in front of her forehead, causing her to go slightly cross eyed.

“We have charms don’t we?” Barty looked around the halls, confused, before looking at Regulus for an answer.

Regulus ran a hand through his hair and looked towards Barty. “Me and Dora got moved up, we’re in seventh year Divination.”

“Oh! Okay.” Barty replied, instantly zoning out of the conversation when he saw a rather grumpy looking Evan walking past. “Nerds.” He snorted and tan towards Evan. “Evie!”

“Are we sure they aren’t dating?” Regulus huffed out with a smirk. “I called Evan ‘Evie’ once as a joke and he fucking hexed me.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Pandora matched his smirk with a grin. “Enough of them, let’s go embarrass some dumb seventh years with my seer privileges.” She winked.

Regulus rolled his eyes and brushed a loose curl away from his face. “Are we actually nerds, though?”

“You are, I’m just good at divination and shit at everything else.” She tapped her head to prove a point as they walked into the classroom, surprisingly, being some of the last ones there.

Regulus felt multiple pairs of eyes attach to him as he walked into the room, trying to avoid eye contact, he quickly stepped past the teacher to get to a table in the back.

“Not so fast!” The professor spoke as she stepped in front of a rather embarrassed looking Regulus, and an excited looking Pandora. “Everyone, these are some of our new sixth year students, the smartest of their year!”

He quite literally wanted to smash his head into a wall. “Thank you.” He muttered as he sat down at an empty table, Pandora next to him as she tied her platinum blonde hair in a bun with a multicoloured scrunchie, Regulus is pretty sure she sewed that one herself.

A few moments later, just as the professor started to speak, a flustered James Potter ran into the classroom. He apologised swiftly to the scowling professor and made a beeline for Regulus’ table as soon as he spotted him.

“Hi Reggie.” He whispered, Regulus would correct him like he does most people, but he quite likes it to be honest, especially when it’s James whispering in his ear.

“Potter.” How he managed to get that out with a smooth voice was a mystery.

“What did I miss?” James asked in a hushed tone.

Pandora turns to them, eyeing them suspiciously before shrugging and leaning over, propping her head on her hand. “Professor Wells told us that her horoscope predicts that Regulus has a secret.” She spoke in a hushed, overdramatic voice.

“Old nutter.” The Slytherin boy muttered.

“Do you now Reggie?” James asked with a dramatic gasp.

“Shut up and listen.” Regulus hissed.

Regulus saw a suspicious grin start to appear on the Potter boys lips as he spoke. “Ma-“ He stomped on James’ foot, receiving a yelp as James decided to finally pay attention to the class.

His brother and Lupin weren’t even at class today, not sure why, the Lupin kid seems to always be in the hospital wing for one thing or another and Regulus knew for a fact the he and Sirius were attached at the hip. Regulus wasn’t sure about Pettigrew, probably doesn’t take the class.

-

“What is that?” Regulus held the cup close to his face, trying to decipher what shapes the tea leaves made up. He held it to the side, hoping Pandora could tell.

Pandora hummed, a puzzled look appearing on her face. She grabbed her book, flicking through until she could find the recognisable shapes.

“That one…” She pointed at the first shape in the cup. “It’s a stag I think?” She flicked the page and looked at the next shape. “This book is not helpful at all!” She groaned and slammed the book on the table.

Now, James peered over his shoulder to take a look at the cup. “It is a stag!” He beamed and looked at Regulus, who rolled his eyes, yet again, and looked back at the cup. “That one there looks like a heart.” The brunette pointed his finger to the cup.

And he was right, anyone could tell that it was a love heart. But would Regulus admit that? No way.

“No it doesn’t.” He scoffed.

“Yes it does.” Pandora and James chimed in at the same time.

Regulus pointed at James, ignoring it when the Gryffindor licked his lips and grinned that stupid, gorgeous smile of his. “This- this is none of your business.” He turned to point at Pandora. “And no it does not.

“Yes is does!” She sang, in a slightly too loud voice, causing multiple people in the classroom to turn and look at them

“No it-“ He sighed. “I’m not winning this am I?”

Pandora’s grin widened. “Nope.”

-

Regulus left the class before Pandora as she spoke with the Professor about crystals, he didn’t even pretend to understand that nonsense, it’s a mystery how he ended up in higher Divination.

He turned to corner into an empty looking hallway, their class had finished early so not many students crowded the halls yet, which was nice.

Sitting down in a small alcove, he folded in on himself, tucking his legs to his chest and letting his head fall back onto the wall with a soft thud.

He heard footsteps nearby, but he passed it off as a student or teacher passing by. His gaze was glued on the roof, he traced the patterns in the stone with his eyes.

Only moments later, he felt a hand ruffle his hair, a hand he would recognise the feel of from anywhere.

“James.” He sighed with a laugh, the corner of his mouth tipping up into a smile.

Watching carefully, he saw James sit on the other side of the alcove. The older boy lifted Regulus’ legs up ever so softly, go place them on top of his own.

Regulus felt a soft flutter in his stomach as those honey brown eyes locked with his stormy grey ones. James’ tan, golden skin shone in the sunlight. It was perfect the way the sun hit him, just like a spotlight, like he deserved to be in.

But no, Regulus didn’t want to share James’ beauty with the rest of the world, that was his. His to keep, to touch, to cherish, to love.

“There’s no one here right?” James said in a low voice as he leant over to Regulus, their noses practically touching.

“No, but Pandora is very suspicious, you couldn’t be worse at hiding this.”

“It’s not my fault, I need you.” James sulked.

Shaking his head fondly, Regulus leant in to connect their lips, probably too eagerly, but he couldn’t care any less right now when James was smiling again his lips.

“Regulussss.” He sang in a sweet voice, pulling away but only slightly. “A heart and a stag? I’m flattered.” He spoke as he brushed a loose dark hair away from Regulus’ flushed face.

“Those things are fake.” He grumbled under his breath.

“Are they now?” He fake pouted, Regulus hoped it was fake anyway, he hated upsetting James. “So you don’t love me.”

Regulus looked James in the eye, his big wide doe eyes shone with pure adoration and love.

“Fuck off.” He said through a smile, there was no hiding the amount of feelings he had for this boy, he was just wonderful, so loving, so kind, so gorgeous. Regulus was sure James was crafted just for him, so they could love each other so much it hurt.

“You love me.” The Gryffindor teased.

“Sadly I do love you, what was I thinking?”

“That I’m super hot and a good kisser?” James asked with an eyebrow wiggle.

Regulus nodded slowly and pulled James in again, the kiss was deeper, slightly rougher, yet still it was perfect. More than perfect.

James traced Regulus’ bottom lip with his tongue, sending shivers down his spine and having his heartbeat speed up shockingly fast. No matter how many times James does that, Regulus thinks his reaction will always be the same.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Regulus mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips.

[tinietaehyun]

Bliss of Time

[WhiteRabbit!Soobin x Lost!Reader] [Wondrous Tales] [One-shot Series]

Pairing: WhiteRabbit!Soobin x Lost!Reader

Genres: fantasy, angst, romance, fluff, dark fantasy, alice in wonderland inspired.

Contains: profanity, mentions of beheading, punishment, implications of death, angsty themes, panic attacks, hallucinations, anxiety.

Links: Masterlist | Wondrous Tales Masterlist

Summary: With your abrupt arrival into this whimsical space, you wander around aimlessly. How odd, every turn you took, you ended up in the same spot.

Though as they say, third time’s the charm, when you encounter a blonde haired man, with a top hat and formal attire - goodness, were you going insane already?

The man gives you a gentle smile, walking towards you with his hand outstretched, “Goodness it’s been awhile since we’ve had any guests,” he observes you, “A pretty one no less.” That‘s it, you were definitely going insane.

He brings your hand to his lips with a soft gaze, “You must be so frazzled, guests always are. Well it’s my pleasure to be your guide. Now, come on, chop, chop, time’s ticking.” With a swift tug, you’re getting pulled along by this strangely tall man. What had you gotten yourself into?

Horrendous neon petals, purple stems and red bushes, multicoloured trees. Where on earth were you? Grotesque purple vines everywhere and a cobbled path that you had fallen upon, probably bruising the hell out of your knees.

Brushing yourself off, you stand up taking in your whimsical and wacky surroundings. The air smelled sweet and everything was disgustingly bright here. You yelp seeing a duck and her orange spotted ducklings waddle behind her.

This had to be some sort of dream, right? You picked up an invitation, opened up the envelope and poof! You were here. Yeah, this definitely had to be a dream. You pinch your arm and hiss in pain, no, no, you could feel pain. Perhaps this was just a really realistic dream?

Panic sets into your mind and you peer around lost. Where did you even come from? The sky? You remember falling, but there’s no portal, door or well, anything in the sky from where you supposedly fell. Your gaze drifts to a pitifully old, broken sign with faded letters: ‘Welcome to Wonderland.’

Great, just great. How lovely. You scramble around in your pockets to attempt to get your phone but to no avail. What the fuck? Where did your phone, keys, and whatever else you had on you go? No, no, no. You were well and truly trapped here with not even a way to call for help!

You groan dragging a hand down your stressed face, “Oh I’m fucked,” you shakily murmur, “This is bad, so, so bad.”

Building up some semblance of resilience and determination you begin following the path. Standing around wallowing in distress would get you nowhere, that’s for sure! Thus, you begin trekking down the bumpy path taking in your wild surroundings and hoping for the best.

After what seems like a few minutes, you spot the same neon yellow flower. Your brows furrow, maybe it was just another one of the same species. Yeah. No, wait- that tree with the broken branch, you swore you had passed that before. You look around and see the same broken sign.

“The fuck…?” You question wide-eyed, bamboozled by your circumstances. Did you just walk in one big circle? But the path seemed relatively straight? You didn’t take any turns? Huh? Confusion laces your features and you shake your head to get some bearings.

You walk down the path again, this time making note of key features, making sure you didn’t walk off the path at any point. Your jaw drops ajar seeing the same welcome sign. You were back to the beginning.

Your head pounds and your legs begin to ache. No, no, how long would you have to walk like this? Why was there no sense of direction? Was this your incapability or did this space have mischievous properties preventing you from leaving this spot? Dread fills your soul. A shaky breath escapes you, this was awful.

Would you rot here unable to escape this perpetually horrendous loop?

Shaking your head, you walk down the path. One more time. Maybe you just have to keep trying! Maybe there would be something different at least once, right? So, once again, you march down the path-

Only to be met with the same spot again. A frustrated scream escapes you, “No, no, no!”

Panic, disorientation and fatigue begin to plague your senses. This was the third time. How many more times would you have to walk this god forsaken path? Or were you just destined to never break free? Was this hell? Did you die? You’d go insane here!

The crunch of leaf litter alerts you and you peer around with your heart racing. What was that? Your body tenses and your breath hitches as tall, pale man with blonde locks and an absurdly tall top hat with two white ears embroidered on it as he pushes through the foliage.

You observe the male cautiously, gazing at his formal attire consisting of a baby blue satin shirt and various buckles, a waistcoat and sleek trousers and boots. His face however…was the picture of beauty in this wacky wasteland. So much so it almost causes you whiplash.

Maybe you did die, and this was an angel? His pouty lips, sharp, narrow nose and pale grey eyes. He looked beautiful. Oh, most definitely you must be going insane. Look at you, already hallucinating a stunning man!

The man gives you a gentle smile, walking towards you with his gloved hand outstretched. “Goodness it’s been awhile since we’ve had any guests,” he observes you taking in your face and form, “And a pretty one, no less.” You almost keel over on the spot.

Was this some perverse fantasy your brain thought of? Did you get drugged perhaps?

He clicks his tongue with a humourous hum, “Ah, ah, I see your brain gears turning, no need to overthink,” he pouts cooing, “You must be so confused right now,” he peers at his pocket watch, “I did run late after all! I do sincerely apologise, you can’t get out of the loop without my guidance after all!”

Your expression becomes deadpan. Of course you fucking can’t because that just makes sense, doesn’t it? He rambles softly, “Oh, I’ve been having such a busy day, running around here and there, you couldn’t imagine it! The King’s meeting overran as well because he couldn’t choose what to wear, goodness me-“

You cut in frankly, “Uhm, hey, Mr…?” You drawl awkwardly. “Call me Soobin, also known more commonly as the White Rabbit, the timekeeper. I do apologise, it’s utterly rude to not introduce myself. And you are?”

“Right…” you murmur, “Y/n. My name’s Y/n.” Soobin hums taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips, “Wonderful name. We’ve never ever had a Y/n visit Wonderland before. You must be so frazzled, guests always are. Well, it’s my pleasure to be your guide. Now, come on, chop, chop, time’s ticking.”

With a swift tug, you’re getting pulled along by this strange man. What had you gotten yourself into?

“I already walked this path,” you stammer trying to keep up with his long legs making quick strides. He seemed to be in a hurry. Soobin peers over his shoulder with a smile, “Oh, I’m well aware, lovely.” You quirk confused, “So…why are we walking down this route again?”

He chuckles, “Ah, well for those who don’t live here, the illusions here can be quite difficult to surpass.”

You sigh. You know what, if you want your sanity intact, you decide it’s best not to question it any further. “Right, makes sense,” you mutter. Soobin muses, “It does now, does it? It’s not supposed to, or are you used to walking in never ending loops?”

Rolling your eyes, you hum, “Not particularly, no. It seems you are, though.” He is delighted by your sarcastic remark, “You’ve got a little spunk, I like that. You’ll need some wit and resilience to make it here, after all. Wonderland isn’t for the weak minded.”

You grimace, “Good to know…” You glance down at his hand wrapped around yours. “Uh, Soobin, where exactly are you taking me?” You question unsurely.

“Well, there’s only one destination according to the King of Hearts rules! That’s his palace! All guests must be brought to the palace.” He hums. “King of Hearts? Is he the ruler of Wonderland?” You inquire. Soobin nods, “Indeed he is, it’s rather unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? Why?” You question. Soobin grimaces, “Well, he’s…rather impulsive. Cruel, even. Often most people don’t make it out of her grasp, he’ll execute them if he grows bored.” You rip your hand out of his grasp with a bewildered expression, “Then why on earth would you take me there?”

Soobin gives you almost a pitiful smile, “It’s my duty to escort all guests to the King. It’s been years since our last guest, I believe you’ll be paraded rather highly.”

You shake your head and exclaim, “No, no, this King of Hearts seems terrible! Do you work for him? How many people have you led to their demise?”

Soobin’s eyes flicker with an unknown emotion, “Come now, lovely. Don’t make this difficult, I’m on a schedule here. Time’s ticking.”

You snap, “What schedule; as if anything in this shitshow of a world has a schedule!” Soobin flinches at your tone and he sighs in frustration, “It’s inevitable I suppose, you are right. I am destined to be late.”

You regard him with a blank expression. What does that even mean? Soobin chuckles at your lost expression, “No matter how much I follow my pocket watch, I’m always late. I have to thank the Hatter for that.”

“You’re throwing a lot of nonsensical words at me, Soobin,” you quip with confusion. Soobin’s fingers trail the rim of his hat, “I do apologise, it must be a lot. You’re the most stable guest I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, if that makes you feel any better.”

He’s apologising again? You almost feel an ounce of guilt for snapping at him. His eyes glimmer, peering into yours and you can’t help but feel a little bad. Perhaps, he was forced to play this twisted game of leading all those who appear here to what appears to be at most certain doom at the hands of the King of Hearts.

You dryly murmur, “Not really, but I appreciate the effort.” Soobin smiles, “So should we get moving?”

You deadpan, “Towards my death? Absolutely not. I’m awfully boring, you know.” Soobin folds his arms, peering at you, “You seem pretty entertaining now, lovely.” He was so damn pretty you might have almost believed him.

Snorting, you respond, “No, no. I doubt I’d take the King’s interest more than two minutes and oops! Off I go! Getting shot or hanged! Or whatever deranged punishment this world has.”

Soobin corrects you, “He prefers the guillotine, something about how satisfying a clean chop is.” You feel nauseous, “How? How is that meant to make me follow you?” Soobin mumbles, “I do suppose that is rather grotesque.”

You yell, “It’s more than grotesque! It’s fucking absurd! Slaughtering the pitiful souls like myself who have the unfortunate plight of stumbling into this place only to be executed because what? Because your ruler was fucking bored?”

A silence resounds loudly between the two of you as he gazes at you with mixed emotions painting his face. “We should really get going.” Your shoulders droop into a slouch, “Even after all that, you’re more concerned with your fucking schedule?”

A bitter laugh your lips, as you place a hand on your forehead, “God, I’m doomed here. With a guide who has no empathy.”

“I-I do, it’s just- the rules,” Soobin mumbles. You yelp, “Break them! Don’t you feel guilty at all, leading so many souls to their demise?” Your voice holds conviction and an impassioned tone that seems to stir something within Soobin.

“How can you be so complicit?” Your brows furrow, “Don’t you feel even an ounce of guilt? Of remorse, knowing what you’re leading them too? Do you even tell them where you’re taking them? That’s even more morbid!”

Soobin stands there hands behind his back, clasped together. His thoughts in a whirlwind mess; perhaps he shouldn’t have rambled. He never really did know how to contain his thoughts.

“You never know? You could be different? The King may come to like you?” He attempts to soothe your panicked rage. “If I’m not? How many people have you said that line to?” You shakily breathe out.

Silence is what you receive and you peer away wrapping your arms around yourself. Typical. Not one good justification.

Sweat drips down Soobin’s brow. He’d be late. He’d be late. His foot taps against the cobblestone and his heart races, fingers twitching and palms clammy. He’d be late. He had a schedule. His eyes almost seem manic. Guests weren’t usually this aware, this obstinate or stubborn.

Why did your silly words make so much sense in this nonsensical world? He was just doing his job right? He had to. That was his role. Ever since time was killed, he had struggled to keep up any time at all! It was so stressful and now that you were here, it would add to his insurmountable stress of getting you to the King on time before anyone else caught wind of your presence.

You observe Soobin, he seemed panicky. Nervous, anxious and overwhelmed. His pupils had shrunk and a manic expression on his face making you feel uneasy. “Soobin?”

“W-We really should keep m-moving?” He almost asks, as though it’s a question instead of a statement. You glare, “It’s like talking to a wall.” He stammers, “Lovely, I-I- I understand. I- I do.”

“You don’t. Don’t you want to break this cycle? I can see it. You don’t enjoy this. You don’t enjoy this pressure of whatever it is you do,” you plead. A sudden laugh escapes his lips, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just nervous. I laugh when I’m nervous.” Another chortle escapes his lips.

“You don’t need to apologise for everything.” You murmur awkwardly; perhaps he wasn’t as sane as he appears. He lets out another giggle, “L-Lets move, I don’t like standing around. Standing around means doing nothing. Doing n-nothing means no productivity. How c-can anything get done?”

An awful sense of dread fills you and you peer behind you, everything looks the same. You knew without Soobin, navigating Wonderland would be perilous and frankly for naught. Perhaps, you needed to take your chances with the King. Or…you could find a perfect chance to escape as you journey further. Yes, yes, just be patient and pretend to go along with it.

Sighing, you murmur, “Keep walking then, I guess.” A defeated expression coats your face and you see a glimmer of sadness in his eyes and he takes your hand with a subtle pout, “Please don’t be sad, it pain me so to see your pretty face stained by sadness.” You mumble, “Pretty hard to look on the bright side with no way home.”

You both begin walking and he mumbles, “Lovely I, I know.” You say nothing and after awhile, the scenery morphs and you sigh seeing the dancing flowers with their waving leaves. He looks at you expectantly as if he wanted to see you be awed or amused only to be met with your lacklustre reaction. How odd, most guests he guided loved this part!

Soobin stops facing you and tilts your head up by the chin, “Lovely, are these flowers not to your liking? Look at them dancing! Their smiles!” You frown, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He questions. He laughs, a short manic laugh. “You don’t know. That’s okay. It’s okay not to know,” he reassures with an unsure expression. He tugs you along.

You almost feel bad for the guy. A ticking time bomb you could almost see. He must be under enormous pressure, especially with a ruler like…the King of Hearts. You could sense it, he had an ounce of goodness in there, a little sense of remorse, of guilt.

“Don’t you…don’t you want to spend some time for yourself? Are you ever free?” You ask. The question makes him freeze and he bursts out laughing startling you.

“Time…for myself? Time for myself? For me? How amusing! My lovely, is that what you asked?” You blink at him blankly, “Uh…yes? Doesn’t everyone deserve time off?”

A shattered expression appears on his face and he smiles almost brokenly, “Ah, perhaps in your world but the time keeper never sleeps. Never…dilly dallies.”

Your heart aches; you wonder what this man goes through on a daily basis to behave like this. Then again, being in this place would make anyone go insane.

He releases another frantic laugh, and abruptly cover his mouth, “I- sorr- I mean. You’re not like the other guests. It’s rather strange, how funny! I thought nothing could surprise me anymore in Wonderland. Yet, here you are.”

You raise a brow, “Uh…you mean showing basic empathy?” A manic smile appears on his visage, “Not one of my guests ever cared like you have. They usually just run off and get lost and died in some grave manner or they follow along and become the King’s, I don’t ever,” he giggles quietly, “don’t ever really hear from them again.”

You frown, “Oh Soobin.” He murmurs, “C-Can we move? We should move.” You hum, “Oh right, you don’t like standing around.”

His eyes glimmer as you both walk again, “You’re so…nice. You haven’t run away despite hearing all of this. Have you been here before? Or, or, have you already succumbed to the madness here?”

You sink into your own mind, why haven’t you run off? Maybe because you knew your own rationale and logic wouldn’t do shit here. Glancing back at Soobin, the way his large hand envelopes yours, your heart flutters and aches, you…kinda felt bad. You didn’t want to leave him alone. He gives you a soft, wavering smile, his eyes guilt-ridden.

“Soobin, I-“ your voice cracks. The air between you two becoming heavy. He shakes his head, “That’s preposterous…” he frowns, “That’s impossible. Then…why are you still with me?”

Truthfully, you answer, “I don’t know, Soobin. I just feel inclined to stay, I guess. Not like I could ever navigate this place alone anyway.” Your eyes lock for a moment, a torrent of emotions wash over Soobin and he abruptly peers away. In silence, you both walk along the path. An aura of panic and regret emanates off Soobin.

After a few minutes, you spot a large meadow full of pearlescent flowers, utterly gorgeous, glistening under the sun. In awe, you point at the meadow, “Those are so stunning, Soobin. I-“

Soobin murmurs, “Moon Lillies, beautiful aren’t they?” He peers at your wide-eyed excitement. His heart aches, you were different from the others who has the misfortune to arrive here in Wonderland.

Seeds of doubt had been implanted into his mind from your impassioned speech and thoughts. Did he really have to lead you down this path to your doom? Into Yeonjun’s grasp? Could…could this time be different?

Timidly, Soobin asks, “Why don’t we go take a look?” The very notion of taking a minor detour had his hands clamming up and heart palpitating fast. Time, time, time. He had work to do. He couldn’t dilly dally.

You squeal grasping his hand in gratitude, “Oh thank you! Yes, yes!” But how could he deny your endearing expression of exhilaration and joy? Maybe just a little detour wouldn’t be an issue, then the both of you would go right back onto the path. Yes, precisely.

Momentarily, your eyes widen in surprise as he in turn envelopes his large gloved hand over yours leading you towards the thousands of flowers. You can’t help but admire the way he walks, his strong, secure hold on your hand. His angelic features, the ever so subtle crease between his brows as though he was always deep in thought.

You had a feeling this wasn’t exactly part of the plan and would only delay the inevitable. Though, you were unsure why someone as obsessed with schedules and time would take this detour merely because you fawned over these flowers.

Did your words get to him? You feel his grasp on your hand tighten and you finally reach the sea of flowers. Oh, how ethereal this place was, a stark contrast to the wacky surroundings, this place also had its moments of beauty apparently?

“Soobin, these are beautiful, I can’t believe these exist.” You fawn in excitement releasing his hand as you run through the flowers, feeling free and almost magical in a sense. Soobin observes you as you wade and spin carefree through the flowers with a soft smile trying his best to ignore his twitching fingers and shaky hands.

“Only in Wonderland,” he muses, watching you prance around with an almost childlike innocence. Something stirs within him, the urge, no, the need to protect you from the horrors deeper located in this place. From the Red King of Hearts, the Cheshire Cat, and god forbid the Hatter. No. No he couldn’t let another soul become destroyed here.

You were right. Time for himself, to indulge in such a luxury…such as now. Felt revitalising, thrilling. Soobin peers at his shaking hands. Time. Time. Would he make it on time? No, why, why did he have to make it on time? Time was killed. But, why? Why did he have to follow this terrible cycle? Because he was afraid?

A short strangled laugh escapes his lips before morphing into a manic cackle startling you. “S-Soobin?” His bizarre gaze meets yours, “Yes, yes lovely, you’re right. Time for myself. I have a choice. I…I don’t have to go through with this. Not when…not with you, lovely.”

You murmur, “Are…you okay?” He lets out a laugh, “Yes, yes, I’m just not-” a giggle slips out to which he covers his mouth, “Yes, just not used to so much free time…such indulgence.” You frown peering down at his viciously shaking hands. What had this place done to this poor man? He seemed so panicky and anxious?

You tentatively approach him and take his hands in yours, peering up at him with an awkward but comforting smile, “Breathe. Breathe with me, Soobin. Look around you, how could you not stop to ever take in the sights?” You had learnt some breathing exercises when you were younger whenever you felt overwhelmed. It should help right?

“Sights…never had time,” he murmurs deliriously peering around at the flowers surrounding you two. The glistening pollen coating your skin in a pearlescent sheen. Soobin gazes down at you with a shaky breath; your big eyes peering up through your lashes, your lips moving, telling him to breathe with such a soft voice. Your hands, petite in comparison to his. How he wished to feel your velvet skin against his, ungloved.

Another strangled laugh, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just a little panicked is all.” You’re a bit taken aback as he grips your hands back tightly. Okay, perhaps he wasn’t entirely sane, but certainly quirky. His pupils were blown out and shaky breaths tumble from his luscious lips.

“Relax, Soobin. It’s okay. Nothing will happen. Uh…you don’t even need to worry, something about time getting killed right? It’s all in your head,” you reassure. Soobin gives you a smile (perhaps a little too wide, but he was cute regardless).

“Yes…yes. Time is…dead. No matter how much I hurry, I am bound to be late. No doubt about that now that we are here in this meadow,” he shakily hums. “Yes, yes, yes,” he deliriously hums, almost delighted by the bizarre revelation you’ve provided him.

Oh, how kind you were, knocking some sense into him! He was going to be late anyway, why not spend some time with you…his new favourite guest? His….lovely. Why did the King have to always ruin things? Why couldn’t the White Rabbit indulge in himself for a while? Yes, yes, he could, couldn’t he? It’s not so absurd of thought is it?

Soobin gazes at you as you wait expectantly. Oh how adorable you were! You yelp as he suddenly draws you into a tight hug. His large frame envelopes yours; the body heat of his seeping onto your frame; you murmur awkwardly returning the hug, “Ah, thank…you? May I ask why-“

Soobin releases you with a glimmer in his eyes, “You’re too good for this world. I’d hate to see anything happen to you. I…I feel as though you do not deserve your tragic fate. You have touched me unlike any other guest I’ve led.” He leans down and your breath hitches as he gives you a sweet smile, “The others, they cannot know of you. They’ll only know if I bring you to the palace right?” A wavering laugh escapes him once more.

You gulp, he was getting rather attached rather quickly. Huh, maybe this really was your ticket out of here. Your peer up at him again, he was…rather cute. He had this now hyper quality to him, which you attributed to breaking through his usual exterior and facade. Soobin murmurs, "Look over there.” He spins you with your shoulders and points over to the distance and you spot shimmering reflections and upon closer inspection, jewels hanging off the trees? No…not quite.

His breath brushes against your neck as he murmurs, “Diamond apples.” You splutter, “What, apples?”

“Diamond, they’re even prettier close up, I’ve heard. Though I’ve not see them,” another giggle, “But now, now let’s go. We’ll run out of time otherwise.” You stammer, “Didn’t you just say there wasn’t enough-“

He tugs you behind him as he strides quickly towards the diamond apple orchard using what seems to be a large glistening lake as a placeholder for direction. “Hey- let’s not get hasty-“ you breathlessly pant trying to make your legs keep up with him.

Soobin cackles peering back at you, “Come on, lovely,” his eyes wide and smile large, “Come on, don’t you want to have fun?” The sentence almost gives you whiplash, was this the same dude you had initially stumbled upon? Were you the one going insane? Surely not. No, he was. You weren’t.

Oddly enough, it settled your heart at ease to see him finally being carefree (albeit at your expense), well, not like you had anything to do. You chuckle as he trips over his own foot and he smiles bashfully. Oh damn him…and his charm!

Now that you mention it, his golden hair that bounced with the breeze underneath his hat, looked so utterly soft. You wonder how it would feel if you… No, keep it together y/n! He takes your other hand and spins you around and you squeal, feeling the wind whip through your hair and you let out a laugh. “Now who’s the serious one?”

“Hypocrite,” you murmur panting. He grins, a small pinkish hue coating his cheeks, “Oh lovely, I know…but I cannot explain how enlightened you’ve made me feel. You must care so much for me.”

You give him a bashful smile. You suppose you could say that…more so basic empathy but you weren’t one to ruin people’s delusions. This was probably his first break that he’s ever had. Huh, how odd…

You lock eyes as he looks at you, a gaze holding such adoration. Perhaps a little too much to be comfortable. He murmurs, snapping himself out of it, “C-Come on, we’re almost there.” Another tug and you yelp, laughing as he pulls you along, “Hold on-!”

The breeze wafts through your locks as you both run through the meadow and you can’t help but grin like an idiot. Both of your clothes stained with the pearlescent pollen giving your skin a shimmering hue akin to the reflection of the moon on open water. The sweet smell becoming ever so slightly disorienting.

Soon enough, you see the sparkling water of the massive lake, glittering under the comically large sun. Beside the lake is indeed an orchard and beautifully hung diamond apples. They really did look like diamonds carved into the shape of apples with their jagged and sculpted edges. Stunning, truly.

In amazement, you walk up to one of the trees, your hands trailing over the rough bark and peering up at the apples glimmering and glittering under the sun, “They’re gorgeous, wow…” “Aren’t they just?” He fawns.

Reaching up, he picks one handing it to you. It feels a little cold to the touch but you admire it as you ask, “Does it just grow like this? Is it edible? I don’t even know how this possible.”

Soobin takes in the cute expression you make as your curiosity overwhelms you, “Yes, it does grow this way naturally, and no, it’s not edible, well,” he lets out a chuckle, “Unless you want to lose your teeth that is.”

You raise a brow, “Uh, speaking from experience or…?” He gives you a wide grin, pointing at his pearly intact teeth, “No not me, lovely. I saw another do the same foolishly, all his teeth broke.” You grimace, “Right, of course.”

He peers at you, “Anything can grow here in Wonderland. Nothing’s impossible here, well, apart from eating this.” You snort, shaking your head, “I suppose so.”

You peer back up at into the foliage and canopy of the apple tree and a particularly large one catches your eye, on a slightly higher branch. It has little crystal blossoms too, oh, how incredibly pretty!

Soobin’s gaze seems to align with yours and he hums, “Do you want it, lovely? I can pick it for you?” Your brows furrow, “You may be rather ridiculously tall, but I damn well know that’s even high for you.” He peers down at you for a moment, the gears in his head turning. He lets out a laugh and his arms outstretch, “Then, we’ll join our heights. I’ll help you up.”

Stammering you halt his hands, “It’s alright-“ He tilts his head in confusion at your hesitance and you almost melt at the instinctual pout forming on his lips. Does he even realise how cute he looks at the moment? Ah…shit. Fine.

Mumbling, you reply, “Okay, uh, alright then. Pick me up- sorry if I’m too hea-“ You squeal as his hands grip your waist hoisting you up and a chaotic giggle escapes your lips as your hands steady yourself on a branch. You hear him snickering, “I believe my arms will get sore soon, lovely. I’d hate to drop such a pretty thing due to my own incapacity.”

A warmth bursts through your cheeks at his words. Clearing your throat, you stretch your arm up, twisting the apple and plucking it with the blossoms attached to its stem. Wow, it’s even prettier close up. “You can put me down,” you suggest. You yelp as you slip in his arms and your find your back pressed against his chest and arms securely wrapped around you. The smooth timbre of his voice resounds in your ear, “My apologies, my gloves do make it hard to hold onto you for very along. Are you hurt?”

Flustered, you turn around, “N-No.” Well, maybe your heart was in tatters at this point, but other than that, no. He peers at you, your gazes locking once more. He murmurs quietly, “Oh, you get cuter by the minute.”

You scoff setting some distance between the two of you, “I- oh hush.” Soobin smiles, “It’s true? Why must you be so reluctant to accept a compliment?” You huff, “Well, you’re handsome, saying that to me is just- of course I’ll be flustered!”

You observe a familiar tinge of pink dusting his cheeks and you smirk, “Ha! There! You know how I feel now.” Clearing his throat, “L-Lets get a move on,” he grasps your hand tugging you along.

“S-Soobin where are we going?” You yelp stumbling behind him. Damn him and his long legs. “I-I don’t know. But we’ve stayed here too long.” A hint of anxiety permeates his gaze and his fingers tighten around your hand.

You look up at the sky and notice the sun hasn’t changed position. Huh, time was truly dead here. You wonder how much time has passed back in your world. Seconds? Minutes? Days? Years? You shudder not wanting to give yourself an existential crisis.

You halt your feet seeing the shore of the lake, “Soobin, let’s sit by the lake.” He freezes looking at you over his shoulder, “Is…Is that okay?” Now he truly was as timid as a rabbit, goodness he was super hyper awhile back? “Uh…why wouldn’t it be?” You question confused.

“I just…nothing bad will happen right?” He shakily murmurs, “I-I have never done this. Gone off the…the path like this,” another panicked laugh escapes him, “It’s- It’s oddly thrilling, but I’m terrified at the same time. What…what if the King finds out?”

Soobin’s eyes shake as you both walk, “My…My head…” His voice wavers and you frown, “He can only know if you bring me to him right?”

He mutters, “Yes, yes. Right? It works that way right? There’s no way he can know. I always bring the guests to him. That’s just the way it is.” He peers back at you with uneasy smile, “As long as you remain with me, he…he’ll never know.”

The words strike a chord within you, making you feel ever so slightly anxious and at unease. The King seemed to be a terrifying person. You shiver, there was no way you could go to him! Soobin was your best bet for now!

You murmur reassuringly, squeezing his hand, “Hey, hey,” you smile softly, “Breathe.” The poor blonde haired man looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. He smiles shakily, “Yes…yes, breathe, thank you, lovely.”

With a swift tug, you’re both walking towards the shore of the lake. The water laps against the sediment and you have the urge to dip your feet into the refreshing water. Hurriedly, you remove your shoes and settle down by the shore dipping your toes into the immensely cooling water.

“Ah…” you sigh, it felt good after all that walking and running. You look up at him with your hand outstretched, “Come on Soobin, lighten up. Have you tried this before?”

He observes you almost as if you were the insane one here. How ironic! Tentatively, he sits down beside you and grimaces at the feeling of the dirt against his fine fabric. For you, he thinks, he’s willing to try. His heart races with anticipation. He likes this. With you, he felt as though time itself had stopped for you both (well, it already had but that’s besides the point.)

You look over to meet his gaze and you’re once again struck by his beautiful features. He removes his top hat putting is aside and your eyes widen ever so slightly at his fluffy blonde hair. Oh…to run your fingers through it.

Embarrassed at such a thought, you redirect your gaze back to the lapping waters and glistening surface of the lake. You feel his gaze on you, you find your hands fidgeting awkwardly. In an odd and twisted sense…this almost felt like a date.

You almost might have keeled over if this happened in real life, well, this was real life but…also not. You peer back over at Soobin, you’d never met someone like him before. Well, he was clingy you suppose in his own endearing way, and clearly had some issues to resolve, but doesn’t everyone?

“You’re…” he begins before looking away, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “I’m…?” You answer. “No, it’s just…” he mumbles, “…you’re so different. So…pure-hearted. Most just go against with the antics here and I…I have no choice but to lead them to the King of Hearts. But-but you…” With a bashful hum, you shrug, “No, no, you’re making me sound as though I changed your entire life. I just…I believe you needed some time off.”

In hesitation, you bite your lower lip, “I also… truthfully, I didn’t want you to take me to the King. So…I thought I could persuade you, you know? To not do that? By…taking a detour?” You wanted to be transparent, perhaps that would be a mistake, maybe he would tug you right back up and back onto the cobblestone path.

Soobin lets out a laugh, “Oh lovely, I’m aware. But who am I to stop you when we’re this far off? In fact you have enlightened me so, to the idea of going off the path, both figuratively and literally.” You let a breathy laugh, “You’re…not going to take me back to the path then?”

He muses slightly shakily, “No one has come for us, so far. This peace, I have never felt before. It’s…It’s addicting.”

His gaze pierces through you, “You’re addicting, lovely. You make me feel at ease. As though I am not slacking off, but spending meaningful time.” Okay, perhaps, he was very clingy, but you’d let it fly only because the way he looked at you made your heart perform a gymnastics routine within your ribcage and leaves you oddly breathless.

The cool water laps at your feet and you close your eyes feeling the soft breeze. A comfortable silence overlooks the two of you, sat side by side. Soobin peers at your hand on the ground and inches his fingers forward ever so slightly. You don’t let this go unnoticed as you try to keep from smiling like an idiot.

All this time, he had no problem grabbing your hand and pulling you along, but now, he was hesitating? You inch your fingers closer to his and his hand halts in surprise before you give him a small, shy smile. Your fingers intertwine over each other, enjoying the solace together. How odd, that a place as bizarre as Wonderland could be so…tranquil?

“For once I am glad that time is no longer a thing, for once, I am glad that I am destined to be late, so that I could have fortuitous opportunity to meet you,” he speaks. Your heart flutters and you murmur, “You certainly have a way with words.”

“I speak the truth, lovely, do I not?” He questions. A moment of quiet passes and he flushes as you scoot closer to him. The curve of his ears turning a subtle hue of red. “It’s…nice like this, to relax. Not have anything to worry about.”

It was a stark contrast to your busy life. Most of it spent working and socialising (much to your disinclination), it was draining. But here, you felt so…free. Unbound. Lightweight even, as though a speck of dust flowing in a beam of sunlight.

“…Do you also work…hard? What is the world you come from like? Your world must have time, it has been years since we have followed a clock. I’m the only one who does,” he brings out a golden pocket watch. It ticks and the gears churn but the hour and minute hand seem to move back and forth. How on earth does he even use that thing?

“Ah, well, yes, I do have a job. It…takes up majority of my time, unfortunately. It’s,” you breathe shakily, “It’s rough, but gotta get paid, you know?”

“Paid? You get money?” He questions and you gawk absurdly, “You…don’t?” He murmurs, “…No? It is merely my duty, as the White Rabbit, the Timekeeper,” he answers nonchalantly.

Well, you do suppose, living in this world, you’d be so insane, that money would the last of your worries. Nothing made sense here. You snort, “Right, of course. Normal rules don’t apply here, I forgot.”

Soobin inquires softly; his eyes glistening with curiosity, “Could…you tell me about your world? Your life? What’s it like?” He was so interested in you, it made your heart feel so utterly warm.

His fingers tighten their grasp atop yours, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Soobin regards you expectantly and you begin to describe your terribly mundane life. As you do so, he pays you much attention, you don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your lips and back up to meet your gaze.

You don’t miss the way he shifts ever so slightly closer. How enamoured he seems to be with you, and oddly, how you relish in this attention, something you’ve never experienced before. “Your voice…I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off you.

You hum, “I could say the same, your voice is nice to hear too.” It had a husk to it, but soft edge at the same time. “You, like my voice, lovely?” He quirks up at your words, eyes flickering with delight. His lips twitch in excitement.

Lovely. Oh goodness…the way he called you that, since you arrived. It just scratched your brain in all the right places. Fuck, were you becoming just as delusional? At this rate you were going to fall in love with a man you had just met!

You look back at Soobin who observes you as you have a mental debate with yourself. You can’t help but let your eyes flicker down to his utterly kissable lips. Oh, how unfair was life.

“Yes, I do…” you finally breathe out. He murmurs, a slight rasp to his voice; the tension in the air palpable, almost sweet to the taste, “Is there anything else you like?”

You hum, “About you?”

“About me,” he confirms. Since when did you get this close to him? Or did he get close to you? Your shoulders were touching, so were your thighs. Oh fuck, what was happening?

Shakily, you respond, “About…you, your hair. Your eyes…” He nods slowly his gaze travelling down from your hair, to your eyes down your face to your lips. Breathless, you resume, “Your…lips.”

Your faces were so close now, inches apart. Breaths mingling, noses brushing against each other. Oh how tempting, was this some sort of test? An illusion? You didn’t know, but something about this moment alone, made him ever so utterly irresistible.

“My…lips?” He breathes, and you nod. “I like yours too,” he breathlessly murmurs. With that, your hand cups his cheek and you lean forward pressing your lips to his. Ah well, fuck it, you’re in this deep and you doubt you could find your own way out, might as well do what you’d never normally do in the normal world, right?

Never knew, you had the capability to ensnare the White Rabbit of Wonderland. Choi Soobin. How odd indeed! Oh but the sweetness of his lips against yours was just too good, too sweet, too addictive.

Soobin’s other hand slides around your waist tugging you closer, his back hunches leaning over and tilting his head slightly giving you better access as your lips move against each other, tongues ever so slightly brushing against each other but not quite enough.

He speaks against your lips, “You’re irresistible.” You smile against his lips, “I could,” he kisses back fervently, “say, the same, ah” you breathe out pleasurably. His lips felt so soft.

Soobin felt as though he was indeed in heaven, kissing you felt more like a dream. An escape from his unshackled yet bound duties. An escape from his never ending time. Oh…how could he possibly let you go? He didn’t want you to leave, if you did…he-he’d have to wait for another guest (who would be nowhere near as perfect as you!) or in the meanwhile resume his duties for the King!

When he got this sweet taste of temptation, how could he ever go back to the way things were? Oh, no, no, no…

You release a muffled yelp of surprise as he leans forward caging your frame between his arm on the ground, his fingers still intertwined with yours and the other around your waist, as he kisses more passionately, desperately even. A groan escapes his lips; he was kissing you like a starved man, a man who was desperate. It had you feeling all sorts of ways, made your body buzz with anticipation and nervous excitement.

He breathes out, “Mm, I could spend all my time doing this,” and you let out a chuckle, “Ah, that’s quite the…suggestion there. I thought you didn’t like waiting around.” He pecks your lips, trailing the bridge of his nose along your jaw to your neck, “I don’t… but for some reason…now I don’t care, lovely.”

Both of you part, his forehead rests upon yours. This moment felt as though you were apart of a fairytale. You didn’t want it to end. He cups your face, “I find myself rather fond of you,” he smiles a little too widely, “Really fond of you.”

You shakily murmur, “I…I can tell.” Soobin murmurs, “How I wish, you could stay in Wonderland with me, there are so many more places to see. To show you. So much more we can do,” he murmurs. He parts from you keeping a hand cupped around your cheek. “Must you really return back home?” His brows furrow, “Must you really try to find the exit?”

Woah now, oh right! You were trying to get back home. That completely slipped your mind. Huh. You mumble, “Oh…right. Yeah, I- I probably should.”

Soobin pleads, “Oh lovely, but you bring me such solace and peace. Can’t you stay? We can hide away here, away from the rest? Didn’t you say you liked it here with no responsibilities and no burdens?” Oh dear, he is awfully persistent. You give him a small smile, “Soobin…you know I can’t.”

“Even…even after we kissed? Won’t you miss me?” His hands tremble and the familiar expression of panic coats his features, “H-H-How will I return back to my duties? W-What if I go insane like the Hatter? Once you leave…there’s no way you c-can even visit-“

“Hold on now, Soobin- lets calm down-“ you stammer awkwardly. You really needed him to guide you to the exit, he clearly knows where it is, if he’s speaking like this. However the trembling waver in his voice and pleading gaze twist and churn your heart in a painful manner. For some reason you felt almost a touch of guilt.

Perhaps it was the momentary euphoria, the blissful nature of everything that caused you two to bond so well, to become so…intimate, romantic even.

Did he fall for you already? Surely not, perhaps he’s just clinging onto the ideals you imparted, the way you make him feel at ease, not you, yourself. Right? Oh, but the way he’s looking at you tells you the very opposite. He wishes for your very being. You shift awkwardly peering away, “Soobin…I-“

He lets out a frantic laugh before covering his mouth, “It’s fine,” another manic laugh. “Really, I-I- understand. I…what was I thinking? That you’d wanted to stay. Wonderland is…a horrid place under this…this… whimsical facade.” He seems to be desperately muttering to himself trying his best to organise his chaotic thoughts.

“No, no, no, I can’t let the others lay their hands on you, you do not deserve such cruelty. If…If I can’t have you…then they certainly cannot.” Your heart drops to your stomach, well, that was certainly ominous. Surely, he wouldn’t be this possessive, right?

With more delirious murmuring, he abruptly stands placing his top hat back on and outstretches his hand to help you up. You peer at his cautiously, “W-Where are we going, Soobin?”

A pained look crosses his eyes, “The exit. You…you do not wish to…be here. And I do not wish to take you to the king. We are already off schedule, the path. I don’t want their f-filthy hands on you.”

You carefully take his hands and he pulls you into a hug. Your heart races; he was acting rather strange. “Come, come, chop, chop, let’s go. Time’s ticking.” Your eyes widen in as he tugs you along once more with determination. “Uh- are you sure, I mean- are you really just letting me go? I don’t know about this- Soobin- Soobin? Are you listening?” You call out.

An aura of paranoia surrounds him. Did the King already know? There’s no way. Well…there’s no way to tell if he did already know. If he did, then there would already be troops out on the hunt. He was the only one in Wonderland who knew when guests arrived. Right?

As much as it hurt him to do so, he knew he could only hide you for so long before suspicions would arise with the others. You wouldn’t last a day with the others. No, no, no. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to let you go.

Perhaps, perhaps he could find a way to visit your world instead. He’s always had been a little different from the rest of the mad bunch. He wasn’t insane, right? No, he was the normal one. He was always the normal one. That’s why you got along so well with him, well, that’s what he thinks anyway. There he was preoccupied with his thoughts again.

Yes, yes, he could attempt to visit your world. You must have had that invite with you, he could work with that. Somehow. Then you could be his safe little secret. Maybe…he could escape this hellhole for good? He would never have to serve the Hatter or King of Hearts ever again? A delusional laugh escapes Soobin’s lips as he strides along. Yes, yes, yes!

You observe him with a concerned expression, whatever internal battle he was having with himself didn’t seem to bode well for you. You wonder what he’s thinking of as he grins to himself.

As you walk along some foliage, a sudden checkered path appears and there’s a large hole in the ground, quite literally like a rabbit burrow. He stammers, “This…this is a short cut to the other side of Wonderland. It’s a bit dark but how I often move around.” You peer at the embroidered white rabbit ears on his hat. You deadpan, “…how fitting.”

“You’re not claustrophobic are you?” He asks shakily. “Uh…” you hesitate peering down into the dark hole, “Depends how narrow it can get.” “It’s okay, I’m with you,” he reassures. You grimace, “Wouldn’t that make it even more cramped?” His eyes widen, “But, but, I need to get you to the exit! I need to!”

You peer at him surprised, “Weren’t you opposed to all that before-“ Soobin clasps both your hand with a pleading gaze, “Come on, lovely, trust me. Trust me. I want you to be safe. I’m not insane like the others, I want to protect you from them.”

From who? The king? The others? Protect? Your head spins, fucking hell, there’s too much happening.

All of a sudden, the both of you are startled with a trumpet blowing and the heavy sound of armoured footsteps. You yelp clinging onto Soobin’s arm, “What the fuck is that?!” There’s no response, you look up to see how pale he’s become, “S-Soobin? Soobin? Hello? Hey!”

His lips twitch into a shaky smile, “Oh. Ah, they’ve found us. How…convenient. I thought no one else knew about you.” What the fuck was going on? Who? Your eyes widen as you tug his arm towards the hole, “Come on! Ah, I’m not claustrophobic all of a sudden! Let’s get moving!”

“It’s too late,” he sighs. You snap pulling at his arm, “The fuck you mean it’s too late?! Come on, move your feet!” He seems to be glued to his spot with fear in his eyes.

You panic as you see several armoured guards. A few holding a banners with ominous red hearts and tassles. Many hold heart shaped spears and stand in formation. A few aim heart shaped arrows at the two of you. You freeze, you were well and truly fucked. No wonder he wasn’t moving.

“Is..Is this the-“ you begin with trepidation. “The Red King of Heart’s troops, yes. Yes they are, lovely,” he answers weakly. One of the knights steps out and bellows, “The White Rabbit has been charged with treason and the dearest guest of Wonderland has been charged as an accomplice!”

You gawk enraged, accomplice? Treason! You snap, “What? We did nothing! You mean having fun is against the rules here?”

The knight ignores your protests and continues, “I hereby come on orders of the King to escort our guest as per usual ordinance since you have failed to do so White Rabbit.”

You look at Soobin who seems to remain silent gripping your hand like a vice. The knight’s eyes snap to yours, “Dearest guest, upon your arrival to the palace, you will be greeted hospitably by our ruler and also face minor punishment for your hand in deviating our timekeeper.”

You snarl, “You were watching!?” The troops flinch at your words and Soobin sighs, “It’s over, lovely. I knew I shouldn’t have deviated. I…I knew this was too good to be true. To indulge myself or to keep you safe. The moment you set foot here, there is only one path to take. After all, time is stuck here.”

You blink at him, anger rolling through you in waves, “Stop all this nonsense! Soobin! This-“ You splutter helplessly; you didn’t even know what to say to that!

“Please come with us with no retaliation or we will be forced to take more harsh measures. That pertains more to you, our dear guest.” They begin marching towards the two of you. Fuck, if you ran into the burrow, they’d shoot all the arrows.

“C-Can we not negotiate?” You stammer however your pleas ring on deaf ears. You scream as they encroach closer and Soobin’s hand never leaves yours; a defeated expression on his face, “I’m sorry, lovely. For my foolishness has gotten us here. It appears that our time, is up.”

Your eyes begin watering, “No, Soobin, no-“ The knights lunge at Soobin and pry him away and you scream piercingly grabbing his arms attempting some semblance of defiance. No, no, they couldn’t take him away from you! Fuck! You couldn’t go to the King!

You cry out, “Give him back! Please, we’ll both go! He’ll take m-me to the palace, in- in- fact, you can escort us b-both there! Promise!” Soobin peers at you as he gets ruthlessly tugged away and finally your grip slips with a final tug, your fingers lose touch and you gasp out painfully, “Soobin!”

The knights haul him away and you spot tears running down his face and his lips form a smile, “It’s okay…cooperate with them. Please. Just cooperate with them, l-lovely.” He hisses as they pin his arms back behind him and he grunts as he writhes against their grasp. He knew what his fate would be.

Tears drip down his cheeks and you see him begin to laugh, making your heart jump to your throat in nausea. It was different laugh from what you previously heard, it was…worse. Maddening. Soobin cackles as tears run down his face, “Lovely, don’t be sad, don’t be sad, please, please, please.”

More and more maniacal laughter emits from him. You peer around at the knights who seem utterly unfazed by his insane outburst. You tremble frozen to your spot as you feel the knights grip your arms pulling them behind you. Soobin is dragged away laughing and crying simultaneously; it caused your heart to ache.

Your throat feels dry and your fingertips cold as ice, fear envelopes you. You were alone once more, in this…new version of hell. You shakily ask the knights who grip and shove you forward, “W-What’s going to happen to Soobin?”

“The White Rabbit has been charged with treason for going against the order of the King. Thus, his punishment will naturally be an execution through beheading,” the knight says nonchalantly. “He’s the timekeeper, you can’t just-“ you stammer shakily. He interrupts with a cruel laugh, “Dearest guest, anything can be replaced. Even you. There’s been many guests though you have been the most different. Now you too, will end up on the same path.”

You feel sick. No…this had to be a bluff. You hear the other knights release a twisted chuckle. “Our majesty has been rather eager to see you.”

Another knight hums amused, “I wonder if they’ll make it longer than the last one.” They all resounding laugh as your blood runs cold.

In a resounding cheer, they haul you along like a lifeless puppet, “In the name of the King of Hearts, march forward!”

Taglist: @naoristerling @staaaarykids @tremendousphantommiracle @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @baekberrie @syraphyina @fullbodyblankets @soohashits @f4iryfever @themochiverse @atiny-chocolate-chip @nothingwithoutgyu @ethystclove @hancafe @nap-of-a-starr @isa942572 @evn-09 @ninitorih @m3chigo @tenleeluvr

[cloudbug08]

Angel

Logan (James) Howlett and fem!agere!Reader

A/N: All of my oneshots will be/are written with a fem reader in mind because I write my works self indulgently, however, if it’s requested I have no qualms writing the reader GN

Unless I’m writing a romantic work, there is so age in mind for the reader, however, romantic works will be written with an over 18 reader in mind （╹◡╹）

Logan glances at the creaky wooden staircase as you come bounding down.

Your feet padded with socks and your arms full, your foot nearly slips on a step and he’s up and out of his armchair in seconds, catching you, he sighs deeply before setting you down

“What’d I tell you about being careful on the stairs?”

You cock your head, bashful

“Sorry.”

He hums, picking you up by the armpits

“It’s alright, we’ll look at getting you some of those non slip socks hmm?”

You nod, wrapping your spare arm around his neck, he carries you over to his armchair, sitting down with a groan, propping you up in his lap

“What was all that fuss about, what’s all this stuff?”

He looks down at the pink zip up makeup bags in your hand

“Makeup, n’ nail polish!”

“I can’t do your makeup honey, I don’t know how”

He looks at you, apologetic

You tilt your head, making a show of batting your eyelashes, and tearing your eyes up, he squints, groaning , he should have never let you know how much your puppy dog eyes affect him

“Can I do your makeup?”

He tongues over his teeth, mulling over the question, he rolls his eyes at your wet lashes

“Fine”

You clap, grinning up at him before digging into your bag of kiddie make up, he leans back and closes his eyes when you start to work underpigmented glittery blue eyeshadow into his eyelids, suckling on a pacifier he offered you shortly after you sat down.

He hums an old Bon Jovi song when you swipe lip gloss over his lips, you press a messy kiss to his cheek, he rubs a large hand over your shoulder, clearly pleased by your sweet gesture

“Done!”

You chirp before shoving a small Barbie mirror into his hands, he lifts it, turning his head to admire your handiwork, clearly marred by you childlike state, he grins up at you

“Thank you sweetheart”

He pulls you into a hug

“You made me all pretty”

You hum, shy

“was’ already pretty”

He blinks at you, before he presses a loud, lipgloss-y kiss to your forehead

“Ain’t you cute.”

He leans back in his chair, pulling you with him, bouncing his knee to lull you into a more relaxed state, he clicks a few buttons on the remote, until The Care Bears pops up, both of you sit, content to watch the multicoloured bears trot across the screen.

Logan clears his throat when the episode ends, checking the time

“It’s just about dinner time pumpkin.”

“Dinnr’ da?”

He hums

“It’s also time to clean up Da’s face, don’t you think?”

You nod, rubbing at your eyes

“Do you have any makeup wipes honeybee?”

You shake your head, he groans

“Guess we’re going cvs, you want McDonald’s?”

You grin, nodding, excited at the prospect of a happy meal.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed, comments, requests and reblogs are very appreciated! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[mekanikaltrifle]

'Vamily Spotlight': WoD Brand Team is Taking Art Without Permission

Recently, I was informed by a friend that some work of mine had shown up in the World of Darkness’ official ‘Vamily Spotlight’ section of their latest video. In this they talk about the gameplay reveal of Bloodlines 2 and generally drum up hype for it, which is largely what you expect from company channels when they’ve a new product out. 

There’s a problem with this: I was never informed, or asked. No consent was given to use that work, or any others.

Through some excellent efforts by friends I also found that my work was in two other videos, with the earliest being well over a year ago-- totalling three, and they were up on both Twitch and YouTube.

Now, you’ll note that I’m a professional artist with two separate art degrees and well over a decade and a half of training. I’ve also a basic understanding of copyright and fair use. 

The Vamily Spotlights are little to do with the review and news section of the video and therefore do not really have bearing on the main point of the video. To this end, I’d assume they’re there as a draw to viewers, maybe to see if their or their friends’ work has turned up in these official videos. And nominally that’s a valid tactic for engagement, if you have permission to use these pieces of work.

They do not however have permission, and certainly not from me. 

As of writing, (5th of February 2024) I’ve issued a DMCA request for all three of the videos my work shows up in on both Twitch and YouTube, and takedowns are pending but I would urge people in the WoD tag here on Tumblr to check the available videos for themselves, if they are as concerned as I am. The screenshots of art in the videos they use to spotlight seem to come from Tumblr, as well as whole TikTok videos and other social media posts. If this makes the rounds elsewhere, do check your stuff wherever you are, WoD fans. 

As the videos are also present on the Twitch VOD platform, this means they are actively charging money using our work without permission. I am unsure if their YouTube channel is monetised.

If they use your work for their spotlights, they are making advertisements and revenue off of your work without any reimbursement or prior consent. 

I don’t know if other artists were asked, but I definitely wasn’t, and by now we all know the issues with ‘exposure’ and how that does not keep artists fed or housed. 

And Paradox Interactive, having artists, they should know that you do not take for free from any of us-- at any level of influence or professionalism. The WoD community is not a free for all for companies to pick and choose free art to use like a bowl of cute little multicoloured sweets, it’s a bunch of creative, inspired and crafty people who come together across any edition of the many worlds in the setting to create as is our fair right to do so. Without being taken for granted, and without being cynically harvested for ‘content’. How vampiric. 

Additionally I would like to note that all of my World of Darkness fanworks are based on legacy books; Vampire 20th Anniversary Edition, Mage the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition and Hunter: the Reckoning First Edition most often, though there are appearances from others. You’ll note that not one of these books is the territory of Paradox Interactive or their World of Darkness brand management team-- looks to me like they’ve simply trawled the tag without reading what they’re looking at, which means they certainly didn’t take the time to ask permission to use these works. Not only were these actions tantamount to theft, it was also not even their fanart to begin with. And once again, they’d have known this had they contacted me at all, which they did not. It’s a failure on their part on several levels and not only do I want the videos taken down, I think the community is sorely owed an apology for this frivolous theft of art under the banner of ‘community content’. I didn’t opt in to having my work taken, and it should not have been assumed that it was okay to take my work just because it’s using a tag they also use!

I want everyone to know I have had zero benefit from their use of my work-- no money, no notes and no dialogue. This does not help artists. This does not help the community.

I’m willing to talk about this should anyone want to ask, but this is a gross abuse of artists and creatives’ rights for the sole purpose of gain by the World of Darkness brand team, and I expected better. I know I personally deserve an apology for this at the very least, as well as the WoD team to commit to actually contacting artists and sourcing permission in future-- and to set up an opt-in or out system for whether people want to be featured. I know I don’t, and I never asked to be. My work’s lovely, and they’re right to have said so. But it’s not for Paradox, and it’s not for Outstar or any of the other Brand team.  

It’s for me, and people here on Tumblr who like it. 

I’m disappointed, in PDX and in the WoD Brand team, because they should know far better than this. 

[onceuponastory]

closer - tattooartist!bucky barnes x female!reader

Plot: Y/N's feelings towards her tattoo artist intensify the closer he gets to her. Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of needles - specifically tattoo needles - and the sensation and pain of getting tattooed (specifically when it goes over a bone). If that sort of thing gives you the squick, I wouldn't read. Notes: Welcome to... whatever this is. I just missed tattoo!artist Bucky and I hc him as a flirt and a slight pain in the ass so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Alright.” Bucky grins, loading up his tattoo needle with ink. “You ready to start?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassures. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going to be any different from the other ones I’ve done for you.” He chuckles.

He’s right, of course. This is not her first tattoo by Bucky Barnes. In fact, by this point, Bucky’s done most of Y/N’s growing collection of tattoos, and claims to be the very reason she was ‘bit by the tattoo bug’. And he’s right. Since she got her first tattoo from him, Y/N’s been itching to get more. She doesn’t see skin on her arms anymore, she sees empty space, a canvas for Bucky to fill with his art. And if she could, she’d have him cover her entire body with it.

Of course, the fact that her favourite tattoo artist (his words, not hers... although she agrees with him) is the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen is also why she keeps rushing back whenever she can. And he's also a massive flirt. Yet although it’ll never amount to anything, it never does… that doesn’t mean she can’t spend their sessions hoping for it. That one day he’ll notice her, really notice her, and tell her he’s just as much in love with her as she is with him.

As Bucky gets to work, Y/N turns her head, watching him. Of course, a lot of her sessions are also spent oogling her tattoo artist. Multicoloured tattoos of various designs and sizes cover Bucky's arms, piquing her curiosity. She's always wanted to ask him about them, to tell her the stories behind them, what was going on in his life back then to make him choose that design.

The familiar warm feeling of love begins to pool in her gut again, and Y/N sighs.

There's a lot of things she wants to know about Bucky.

"I can see you staring, you know."

"Just checking you're doing a good job." She lies. Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Oh, please." He looks down at her, trademark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You use that excuse all the time. You just can't resist me."

Asshole.

Thankfully, Bucky soon drops it, going back to working on her tattoo. Today, he’s doing a piece that snakes up her arm and onto her shoulder, meaning he’s frequently getting up close and personal, more so than she’s used to. However, she doesn’t mind that at all. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Bucky works, Y/N occasionally glances over at him, still watching him curiously. Both because she actually enjoys seeing Bucky at work, and because again, he’s gorgeous. Thankfully, Bucky doesn't seem to have noticed this time. Or if he does, he doesn't call her out on it.

Some of Bucky’s brunette strands escape his man bun, framing his face. Y/N has to stop herself from reaching up and tucking it behind his ear. Despite how close she and Bucky are, that gesture is too intimate, too close for them… even as he moves further up her arm and onto her shoulders.

At one point, she glances over again, not realising he’s a lot closer than expected. So much so that her skin almost brushes against Bucky’s hair. For a split second, a flash of pink crosses Bucky's cheeks, and she frowns. Was he...blushing? Because of her?

“Oh, sorry.” She murmurs, her cheeks burning. How does he even look hotter up close? “Just tell me to move back if you want… or just move me out of the way.” She jokes awkwardly, only adding to her embarrassment. Hopefully, this session will be over before she makes even more of a fool of herself in front of Bucky.

“It’s okay.” Bucky smirks, running a hand through his few strands of hair, a sight that makes Y/N glad she’s laying down to witness. “You’re perfect, actually.” He chuckles. “Don’t tell the others I said this… but you’re my favourite client.” He winks.

She swears this man will be the death of her some day.

As Bucky continues the tattoo, he suddenly goes over a tender area, and she winces in pain. “You okay? You’re doing great, but let me know if you wanna stop, alright?” Bucky says. Gritting her teeth, Y/N nods.

“I’m good.” She gasps. "I just forgot how much that hurts."

It’ll all be worth it. It always is.

At least, getting to see Bucky makes it worth it, anyway.

“Good girl." Bucky smirks. 

Fucker.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The remainder of the session passes in silence, and Y/N’s head swirls. If she told him the truth, laid her heart out on the line… would it be so bad? 

She braces herself, opening her mouth to speak. But Bucky gets there first.

“You know Y/N, we’ve known each other for long enough that I feel like we’re friends. So the trust between us is solid enough.” He chuckles, refilling his ink. 

In actuality, she and Bucky have known each other for almost three years. Not that she’s been counting or anything. And despite Bucky doing most of her tattoos, she’s been at the shop infrequently enough that she wouldn’t consider themselves ‘friends’. But the thought that Bucky considers them friends makes her heart do that funny thing it always does whenever she sees Bucky - when it somehow beats too fast and almost stops. 

God, she wants him so badly.

“Yeah, that’s true. And besides, you’ve been up close and personal with me a lot.” She chuckles, another batch of heat spreading across her cheeks. Bucky laughs brightly, and Y/N grins just as wide.

“You’re right, I have.” He nods. “To be honest, by this point I’m convinced I could say or do anything, and you’d say ‘yeah!’, tattoos or otherwise.”

“Yeah!” she giggles.

“Okay.” Bucky muses, looking up at her with a smirk. “Go on a date with me then.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Party - Part 1

Sarah attends her little cousin’s birthday party, but after she makes the girl cry, the hypnotist hired for the event decides she needs a little attitude adjustment. Sarah missed the hypnotist’s performance earlier, but that’s okay, because he’s happy to give her a one-on-one session to help her enjoy herself just as much as the birthday girl.

***

Sarah parked her car in her Auntie’s driveway and rolled her eyes at the sight of the decorations adorning the front of the house. Multicoloured streamers were draped over the hedges, and a large pink banner hung over the doorway – the words Happy Birthday Penny, written in sparkly silver letters, were flanked by a pair of cartoon unicorns. It was so embarrassingly girly that Sarah couldn’t help but cringe. She wasn’t a tomboy exactly, but she’d long since abandoned anything quite so pink and cutesy.

She got out of the car and huffed. She was twenty-one years old for God’s sake! She had better things to do than spend a whole afternoon at some stupid baby’s birthday party, but her mother had been insistent. Sure, Penny was her cousin, but Sarah hardly even knew her. She’d been away at university when Penny had been born, and Sarah had only seen her a handful of times. She didn’t like babies. Most of her friends thought they were adorable, but Sarah couldn’t get the thought of dirty diapers out of her head. Babies were so disgusting!

Sarah opened the front door and heard the loud laughter and shrieking of a little girl’s birthday party happening inside. How old was Penny anyway? Sarah looked up and noticed several pink balloons bobbing about on the hallway ceiling, emblazoned with the large number “3”. Surely she’d be out of nappies by now at least. If Sarah was asked to go anywhere near a used diaper, she was going to storm out straight away.

She walked down the hall, following the noise, and entered a spacious kitchen that was adjoined to the living room. The place was covered in streamers and balloons and confetti, and there was an enormous chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table. Her little cousin was wearing a bright pink dress and a plastic tiara, running around the living room playing a game of musical chairs with her friends.

“There you are, Sarah!” came a voice, and Sarah looked around to see her Auntie marching towards her, smiling. “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

“Oh, yeah…” Sarah said vaguely. “There was a lot of traffic.”

Her Auntie’s smile became rather fixed, but she didn’t contest the lie. “Why don’t you have some cake?” she asked sweetly.

“No thanks,” Sarah said, glancing at the chocolate cake with distaste. Just imagine how many calories were in that! Her Auntie wasn’t exactly fat, but she was a lot plumper than Sarah’s own model-thin physique. She might be happy to risk her figure, but Sarah certainly wasn’t.

At that moment, the game of musical chairs ended, and Penny was left jumping up and down, squealing excitedly at her victory. Her mother went over to congratulate her, leaving Sarah to help herself to a drink.

She looked around hopefully for a sign of something alcoholic, but there was nothing. Already wishing she’d made up some excuse not to come, never mind how furious her mother and Auntie might have been with her, she poured herself a plastic cup of lemonade and lounged against the kitchen counter, examining the other guests. There was no-one else even close to her age. Everyone was either a brat or a parent.

Then a man strolled over and leant against the counter next to her. He was dressed very peculiarly in a tailed coat and bowtie, like a stage magician.

“Hello,” said Sarah, uncertainly.

“Nice to meet you, sweetie!” the man said cheerfully. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Sarah was about to lie and say that she was, but there was something about his overly bright tone that annoyed her. “No,” she said bluntly, sounding much more like a pouty child than she’d intended. She felt her face going red.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the man said kindly. “It’s a shame you weren’t here earlier. I’m a hypnotist, you see. I’m very good with suggestions. I go around deciding what all the boys and girls should become, then I tell them how to act accordingly. There’s always at least one person who’s not enjoying themselves, but after a session with me, they’ll be running around and giggling as happily as anyone else.”

He smiled at her, and Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. The man was quite handsome, even if he was almost twice her age, but there was something a little unsettling about his expression. He was probably hoping to get into her pants, Sarah thought. But no… that wasn’t it. His expression wasn’t predatory. Not exactly. It was more amused, or condescending. He was looking at her in the same way all the parents were looking at their shrieking three-year-olds, and Sarah didn’t like it at all.

“Well anyway,” she said, thinking hard for an excuse to get away, but at that moment her Auntie reappeared, holding Penny’s hand. The girl was fidgeting with the hem of her pink dress and staring shyly at her shoes.

“Sarah,” said her Auntie in a whisper, “could I have your help? I’m afraid Penny’s had a little accident, and I could do with someone to help me clean her up.”

“She had a…” Sarah began, looking down at Penny’s waist. No pee-stained socks. No puddle on the floor. “An accident?” she asked. Surely this couldn’t be happening. Surely she wasn’t really being asked to do this.

“In her pull-ups,” her Auntie clarified.

Sarah looked at her in disgust. “She’s pissed herself and you want me to help change her fucking nappy?” she demanded, disbelieving.

“Sarah!” her Auntie exclaimed in a shocked voice.

“No way,” Sarah said firmly, “I’m not doing that.”

Penny started to cry.

“Now look what you’ve done!” her Auntie snapped. She turned to her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh come on,” Sarah sneered. “Can she really not use a toilet at three years old?” She felt a little guilty about making her cousin cry, but she was too angry to care. Her Auntie was acting like she was the one who’d done something wrong! Just because she didn’t want to change a disgusting, pissy diaper! “Maybe I should have brought some nappies for her as a birthday present.”

Her Auntie glared at her furiously. She’d just opened her mouth to say something when the hypnotist cut in. “I’ll take care of Sarah,” he said mildly. He exchanged a meaningful look with her Auntie, and Sarah was shocked to see a smile flash across the woman’s face. She nodded and led her crying daughter away by the hand, throwing Sarah one last furious look over her shoulder.

Sarah rounded on the ridiculous man. “What do you mean you’ll take care of me?” she demanded, raising her eyebrow in a superior way. “I’m not a… not a… What are you… doing…?”

Her voice faltered. The hypnotist had taken out a shining silver pocket watch, and was swinging it in front of her face. Sarah wanted to laugh, but something stopped her. Her thoughts felt slow and sluggish. The hypnotist was saying something, but she wasn’t sure what. The watch was glittering brightly. So, so brightly…

The hypnotist took her by the hand and started leading her further into the house. She tried to stop, but it was as if her body was out of her control. Her feet wouldn’t obey her! She felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. What was going on?!

The man smiled at her over his shoulder. “Like I told you before, I’m very good with suggestions. I always have been! I know you’re scared, Sarah, but there’s nothing to be frightened about. I’m just going to help you have a lovely time at Penny’s party, and after that…” He paused, smirking. “Well, after that I suppose it will be up to your Auntie.”

Sarah tried to say something, anything, but no words would come out. Before she knew it, she was sitting in a comfy chair in the spare bedroom, the noise of the party echoing distantly. The hypnotist was sat directly across from her, his shiny silver pocket watch back in his hand.

He swung it gently before her eyes, and Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away. So shiny, she thought. So pretty. Pretty pocket watch…

“That’s it, Sarah,” the hypnotist cooed. “That’s a good girl. Now, we’re going to have a little talk, that’s all, and see if we can make your behaviour match your attitude.”

[hazbinshusk]

Heya! If your requests are open, could I get a Husk x fem!reader one shot? They have feelings for each other but Husk is being stubborn and won't make a move until he sees her being hit on when the group is out somewhere?

combined with a kiss prompt because they worked so well together.

prompt #5: a firm kiss

“Anyone else want another drink?” Charlie asks helpfully, breathless and bouncing on her heels out of the excitement of having a night out with friends. Husk raises his glass – still half-full – pointedly, and she nods before skipping off towards the bar.

“Do you ever have to pay for your own drinks?” you ask jokingly from beside him, and Husk’s ear flicks towards you the moment before he turns to face you, a small smirk on his lips. He takes a sip as though to prove a point, and you giggle.

“Not if I can help it.”

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I…” you take the glass out of his hand, holding his gaze teasingly as you take a sip. He doesn’t look offended; his smile widens, the multicolour lights of the club casting his golden eyes aglow. It makes something flutter inside you, and the sensation doubles when his claws brush against your fingers as you hand it back. “…Thanks. That tastes like window cleaner by the way.”

Husk snickers, pointedly finishing the drink.

A familiar baseline starts over the club’s heavy speakers and you grin, standing and slipping out of the booth. Holding out your hand invitingly, you fix the bar cat with an inviting, hopeful smile. “I love this song. Dance?”

Husk still looks amused, but he shakes his head. He blinks unevenly; he’s had more to drink than you’d thought. “I ain’t exactly one for dancin’, doll.”

You make a show of pouting, but your next words as put on hold when you feel a familiar tall, slim body drape itself against your back. Angel Dust wraps an arm around your shoulders, reaching past you to grab the glass he’d left under your care. He’d been on the dancefloor for most of the night, and you were a little surprised he’d noticed you standing so quickly.

“Ya gotta know the pussycat ain’t gonna be able to keep up with us, baby-cakes,” he says playfully, taking your hand, straightening and spinning you under his arm. You laugh, interlacing your fingers with his as you come to a stop again. Angel gives the demon in question a wink, and Husk rolls his eyes in response. Angel tosses back the rest of his drink and drops the glass back on the table. “C’mon. Let’s show kitty how it’s done.”

You laugh as he drags you out into the throng of moving bodies, spurred into happy, drunken dancing when the spider grinds against you in a half-suggestive, half-joking manner. Husk watches the two of you go, his tail twitching against the booth’s cushioned seat as he watches you roll your hips back into Angel in a way that the bartender swears he isn’t going to be thinking about for the rest of the night.

“You know, you should just ask her out, already.”

Husk’s attention is drawn away from you by Vaggie’s dry tone, his ears folding back slightly against his head. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

Vaggie raises a brow, unimpressed. Unlike the rest of you, she’s been nursing her drink, and she takes a sip now before answering. “Neither of you are exactly subtle.”

A soft rumble plays in the back of Husk’s throat as an uncomfortable feeling settles inside him. “I got no idea what you’re on about.”

Vaggie fixes him with a pointed look before turning her eye towards you. Husk’s gaze follows hers, and his wings tuck closer to his shoulders as he watches you laugh as Angel dips you as though the two of you are ballroom dancing. “She likes you too, y’know.”

Husk feels his heart thrum against his ribs, and he picks up his glass, remembers it’s empty, and sets it down again irritably. “It ain’t your business, Vaggie.”

“It is when I’ve gotta watch the two of you pining after each other,” she shoots back, finishing her drink. Husk watches her put the glass down and wonders desperately where Charlie is with his refill. Any other royal demon would be demanding to be served first – knowing the Princess, she’d be insisting everyone else place their orders before her. He growls under his breath.

“She ain’t ‘pinin’’ over me,” he replies begrudgingly. Even drunk… or maybe because he’s so drunk, he can’t help the bitterness in his voice when he continues, “She ain’t that stupid.”

“Maybe she’s into assholes,” Vaggie shrugs, her expression softening as she glances towards the bar. Towards Charlie. “It happens.”

Husk swallows, folding his arms across his chest. His tail curls over his leg, the feathered end twitching moodily between his ankles. Still, he can’t help but mutter, “Not to me.”

“No?” she asks, leaning back in her seat and mirroring his position, wrapping her arms across her chest. A smirk plays across her features, self-satisfied. “Well, then, I’m sure you won’t mind that she’s getting hit on right now.”

Husk’s ears shoot upward, his attention flying back to the dancefloor despite himself. “What?”

Vaggie’s smirk widens behind him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The broad, firm body of the demon behind you presses against you, their claws digging into your hips. Angel grins, one hand still clutched in yours, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. You feel your cheeks warm in a different way than the flush brought on by exertion. It feels good – the way they touch you, the line of their body against yours. They’re cute enough to have some casual fun with, and you can’t lie, it feels nice to be desired.

You feel another, larger hand close around your other wrist just as you feel the demon’s mouth graze the side of your throat. You open your eyes in surprise as you’re jerked away from them and against the soft fur of Husk’s chest. You meet his gaze with wide eyes, shudder when you feel his other paw alight on your waist. The way he’s pulled you into him traps your hand between your chests, the back of his hand warm against your breast. You feel your body tingling wherever it’s touched by his, and your breath shudders as you try to catch it.

“H-Husk?” you find your voice after a moment. He seems almost as surprised by what he’s done as you are, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. “What are you—”

Husk swallows back his nerves like the burn of whiskey and he kisses you.

His lips are soft and warm and firm against yours, and his hand leaves your wrist to slide over your cheek and into your hair. Your hand turns to slip through the soft, soft fur of his chest. Husk tastes of booze and smoke and something that makes your insides tighten with excitement; as does the way he tugs you against him insistently. Possessively.

And fuck, it feels good.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø