#my friend is reading and she reminded me of these glorious bits

[lafcadiosadventures]

Can we take a moment to appreciate Balzac’s teenage Romantic and Hugolâtre protagonist Modeste Mignon? (Based on Balzac’s correspondance with Hanska and Goethe’s and Bettina Brentano’s, she’s an aspiring writer and a lover of the darker romantics -a bit like the heroine of Northanger Abbey perhaps-) this is how her very sensible and bourgeois chaperone introduces her ward, it’s a long quote but it’s fun:

“Modeste,” she said, “is a young girl of very exalted ideas; she works herself into enthusiasm for the poetry of one writer or the prose of another. You have only to judge by the impression made upon her by that scaffold symphony, ‘The Last Hours of a Convict’” (the saying was Butscha’s, who supplied wit to his benefactress with a lavish hand); “she seemed to me all but crazy with admiration for that Monsieur Hugo. I’m sure I don’t know where such people” (Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Byron being such people to the Madame Latournelles of the bourgeoisie) “get their ideas. Modeste kept talking to me of Childe Harold, and as I did not wish to get the worst of the argument I was silly enough to try to read the thing. Perhaps it was the fault of the translator, but it actually turned my stomach; I was dazed; I couldn’t possibly finish it. Why, the man talks about comparisons that howl, rocks that faint, and waves of war! However, he is only a travelling Englishman, and we must expect absurdities,—though his are really inexcusable. He takes you to Spain, and sets you in the clouds above the Alps, and makes the torrents talk, and the stars; and he says there are too many virgins! Did you ever hear the like? Then, after Napoleon’s campaigns, the lines are full of sonorous brass and flaming cannon-balls, rolling along from page to page. Modeste tells me that all that bathos is put in by the translator, and that I ought to read the book in English. But I certainly sha’n’t learn English to read Lord Byron when I didn’t learn it to teach Exupere. I much prefer the novels of Ducray-Dumenil to all these English romances. I’m too good a Norman to fall in love with foreign things,—above all when they come from England.”

Balzac goes on about her tastes a bit more here, and it’s Romantically Inclined Teen 101-excuse Balzac’s remarks about “girlish” heads and souls-:

“(…)Modeste fed her soul on the modern masterpieces of three literatures, English, French, and German. Lord Byron, Goethe, Schiller, Walter Scott, Hugo, Lamartine, Crabbe, Moore, the great works of the 17th and 18th centuries, history, drama, and fiction, from Astraea to Manon Lescaut, from Montaigne’s Essays to Diderot, from the Fabliaux to the Nouvelle Heloise,—in short, the thought of three lands crowded with confused images that girlish head, august in its cold guilelessness, its native chastity, but from which there sprang full-armed, brilliant, sincere, and strong, an overwhelming admiration for genius. To Modeste a new book was an event; a masterpiece that would have horrified Madame Latournelle made her happy,—equally unhappy if the great work did not play havoc with her heart. A lyric instinct bubbled in that girlish soul, so full of the beautiful illusions of its youth. But of this radiant existence not a gleam reached the surface of daily life; it escaped the ken of Dumay and his wife and the Latournelles; the ears of the blind mother alone caught the crackling of its flame.”

Finally, here’s Canalis’ portrait, he’s a bit of a poser, faux Romantic author, who has fashioned his looks after many of Modeste’s idols (i had read Canalis was based on Hugo, but given that Hugo exists in this universe, I am not that sure about that :p)

“In this instance Canalis, sketched in a Byronic pose, was offering to public admiration his dark locks floating in the breeze, a bare throat, and the unfathomable brow which every bard ought to possess. Victor Hugo’s forehead will make more persons shave their heads than the number of incipient marshals ever killed by the glory of Napoleon. This portrait of Canalis (poetic through mercantile necessity) caught Modeste’s eye. The day on which it caught her eye one of Arthez’s best books happened to be published. We are compelled to admit, though it may be to Modeste’s injury, that she hesitated long between the illustrious poet and the illustrious prose-writer. Which of these celebrated men was free?—that was the question.”

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 9

Hey... Sorry it took me a minute. I've decided this is definitely not the only club scene for them because there's a lot I want t explore with them. Part of me wants to apologize for adding so much in but I hope you guys love them as much as I do!!! They are one of my all time favorite pairings to write.

Also don't worry Im working on getting rid of Danny lol

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WC- 10.2k

Warnings- dom/sub dynamic, BD/SM, Exhibitionism, voyeurism, degrading, choking, sir/daddy kink, pet/puppy nicknames, name calling, slight Mean Dom H mixed with soft Dom tbh, tiny bit of humiliation kink, aftercare is in the next part I promiseeeee

Y/N was buzzing in her own skin. 

So much was happening in her brain that it felt borderline overwhelming. She stood in Harry’s bathroom looking into the mirror with her hands on her face, just to confirm that she was, in fact, a real person. 

The night prior had been intense. A lot, but in a good way. Something had shifted between them, as she suspected, but neither of them were truly ready to talk about it. Harry was instead, a lot more affectionate which… to be honest, she hadn’t expected. It was a glorious change, feeling his hands or eyes on her whenever she was in a room with him. He’d had her sit on his lap while he proof read something on his laptop, his hand stroking over her stomach and underneath one of his shirts that he’d put on her after their bath the night before. There was no urgency to talk, Y/N leaning her head on his shoulder and relaxing into the warm, fresh smell of the man she was so connected to whilst scrolling on her phone. He’d made them breakfast and ordered them lunch, but she had noticed a distinct lack of kissing. 

It made her wonder if she pushed a bit last night, asking for one. Somehow she doubted it considering he had been the one giving her kisses the last few weekends together, but there was a weird seed of dread in her stomach that reminded her that at some point the weekend would be over and the warm place she had in the pool of Harry’s warmth would dry up and she’d need to come back up for air. To go through the week without seeing him, except maybe for a lunch, when she had grown so needy for his mere presence. He was attentive even when they weren’t physically around, more than the man she had called her boyfriend, but it still didn’t feel like enough. As weird and freaky as it sounded, she wanted to crawl under his skin somehow. Get as close as possible. 

Tonight they’d be going to the sex club. Something she was both excited and nervous about, the weird feeling in her chest making her wonder which one outweighed the other. Harry had communicated very clearly that this first visit was going to be rather tame- or, as tame as a sex club visit could be. They’d watch a scene he had pre chosen, a voyer couple in a room open to exhibitionists. Before that, they’d mingle and he would introduce her to some of his friends he had there. 

One thing she wasn’t too sure about though, was getting too close to anyone he had played with before. Y/N, while not historically jealous, found her skin crawling with ants at the idea of having to be around someone else who knew how he tasted, how he looked when he came. Sure, he wasn’t officially hers, but it felt like it more than she cared to admit. That had added on to her anxiety but it wasn’t something she wanted to openly admit to him yet, so she kept it under wraps for the time being.

He’d done something nice for her and got her a dress. A cute little thing, lacy and white. A sweetheart neckline and strapless, she was hoping the strapless bra was going to do its job- but then again, she kind of hoped maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he had chosen the dress for ease of access. The idea of him slipping down the top and playing with her in front of other people had her wet the moment she thought about it. 

Her panties, though, were noticeably missing in the ensemble. When she asked about them, his smirk had rose on his lips. “Who said you were getting any?”

So all in all, she was a complete and utter wreck of hormones and anxiety. 

Freshly showered, she had fixed her hair and sat staring at herself with her makeup half done. Another of the dominant’s shirts hung off her shoulders. He had a vanity that was cleared of anything but her stuff, which was nice, but another flare of jealousy had worked its way through her. Who else had used this vanity for this exact thing? Who else had been getting ready for him to take them to the club to play with them in the way that was so uniquely Harry? 

It was no right of hers to be jealous or possessive when she was still in a relationship, though it was one she was having her doubts about. Her phone remained empty of any texts from him. The longer he put it off, the less she cared about what he had to say. Anger wasn’t really there considering Harry had been giving her plenty of attention, but still. Her brain was craving the quiet only the Dominant had managed to give her. 

“Alright?” His sudden appearance made her squeal, jumping in her chair. Clutching her ever beating heart, she looked at him wide eyed in the reflection. Where the fuck had he come from and how long had he been there? 

“Fucks sake, H.” She wheezed. “You need some sort of bell or something. How long have you been standing there?” Where she expected a laugh, she got none. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed, he turned the chair towards him and lifted a hand to tilt her head up. “For a minute or two. I was waiting for you to notice but…” Eyes scrutinized her face. “You’re nervous.” 

There wasn’t much she could hide from him. To be fair, she hadn’t planned on it, but it was still annoying, borderline unsettling on how he could read her like an open book. “A little. It’s not a big deal though.” 

“We don’t have to go yet, if you aren’t ready. We don’t have to go at all.” His voice was soft as he kept his face placid, clearly trying not to sway her either way. It was yet another confirmation to her that he actually did give a fuck about her well being. 

The idea of not going at all, though, made her shake her head rapidly. Wouldn’t that mean they would cut off their arrangement? As selfish as it was, she couldn’t give him up yet. She couldn’t give up the orgasms and the kisses and the praise, just as much as she didn’t want to give up the daily texts and jokes and pictures of Buttons when she was back at her own place. “No! It’s just, it’s a little intimidating. That’s all.” She sighed, leaning into his hand. That seemed to soften him a bit, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip as he tried to gage her. 

“What about it has got you intimidated?” 

It felt oddly good having him standing over her, petting at her. His gaze soft, looking down at her as he tried to make her feel comfortable but undeniably in control of the situation. Of her. 

“You know people there, mostly. But the whole thing. I know we’ve gone over what we’re doing but it feels bigger the closer we get there. Y’know?” She puckered her lips over the pad of his thumb, watching as his smile tipped the corner of his lips. These tiny acts of intimacy were going to be the ones that ruined her. “I’m very excited. It’s what I’ve wanted, you know? And I kinda think that makes me put more pressure on the expectation.” 

Harry hummed in his throat, nodding along to her observations. It made logical sense and she knew it, but seeing him agree made her feel a little better. Maybe she wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“It is intimidating. It's taboo, in a way. Something that’s going to shock your system. You don’t go many places with people being so open sexually around you. It isn’t so blatant until the shows start, but even then. It’s the sort of stuff you're used to fantasizing about, and to see it right in front of you can be a lot to take in. Seeing people on leashes, or full body spandex, masks, all of that. It’s new to you, so I expect it to be intimidating to you. But may I offer you a few pieces of advice?” 

Y/N would lick his shoes if he asked in the right tone of voice, so she nodded. She wondered if she would get away with it, and his eyes did narrow, but he chose to let it go. 

“The only person I’m going to be focusing on when we go is you. I have some friends, yes, and I’d like you to meet them and their submissives, but I’m not expecting you to make best friends at the first meeting.” He started, ever so slowly pushing his thumb into her mouth. Testing the waters. Like second nature, she began to suck lightly on the tip of it as he continued talking, the tip of her tongue brushing the pad of his finger. “But the real advice I have is to let go. Let me control the night. I’ve got you, I’ve got everything you need to do up in my head. All you’ve got to do is follow directions. If I tell you to say hello? Say hello. If I don’t, you don’t. If I tell you to sit on my lap, you sit there. Tell you to get on your knees, you do it. If I tell you to suck my cock, you do it. Because everyone else there is doing the same thing, if not, they’re there to watch it happen. There’s nothing you need to worry that pretty little head about.” His eyes darkened slightly as she took his thumb a little further into her mouth, blinking up at him. “Okay? Daddy’s got you.” 

Somehow it worked. Some of that anxiety melted away, realizing he was fully serious. All she needed to do was listen to him. That was the backbone of all of this. 

“You’re in control. You’ve got the power to color out, you’ve got the boundaries and I’m just there to make sure you’re tended to properly. Remember what I said, hm? Me being in control is only because you allow me to be.” 

That had been something she learned more and more as the time passed by with him. As incredible as it felt to have him be in charge, she had the ultimate say so. She could color out at any moment. There was no reason not to trust him because he had never given her a reason not to. 

“Your safe word isn’t just for sex, either. Anything you want to stop tonight, you tell me. I know you’ll be good and remember that, but I just need to remind you before you hand yourself over to me. I will never be disappointed or angry because you need a break, or you don’t want to do something. I care about you a lot more than I care about nutting off or showing off to people.” 

In truth, Harry would never forgive himself if something happened and she ever felt unsafe with him. It was a team effort, yeah, but he did think he was good enough at reading her that he would be extremely upset if he didn’t predict something like that. Y/N did run a bit anxious sometimes. He’d been able to get her to a point where she completely let go for him, and he wanted to repeat that pattern over and over until the weight that she felt on her shoulders lessened. As strong as the woman was, he wanted to help take some of it on his own back. 

His thumb pulled from her mouth with a soft ‘pop’, the dominant ignoring the whimper and smearing the sweetness of her saliva over her chin. It was the world’s highest honor to see her eyes round out for him, to watch her track his every moment like the eager pet she had proven to be for him. Knowing she wanted to please him made him feel more powerful, more fulfilled, than he had been in a very long time. Showing her off was something he had been more than looking forward to doing, but there wouldn’t have been any use in doing it if she wouldn’t feel equal enjoyment. “Are we okay, Sweets?” 

“Yeah.” She sighed, the sigh exhaling against his damp finger. “I gotta finish getting ready though. You have my outfit picked out on the bed?” 

“I do.” He nodded, lightly fingering a loose tendril of hair that brushed her cheek. “And you’ll be wearing that black peacoat over it. Should keep you nice and warm.” Tilting her chin up, he placed one of the first kisses of the evening on her pouty lips before smoothing his thumb back over her mouth. “You’ve got time, darling. Don’t worry.” 

—--

Y/N felt marginally better as she held on to his hand, clinging for dear life on his wrist with the other as they waited at the front entrance. 

There had been quite a lot she expected from a club dedicated to kink. Karma was as sensual and mysterious as ever, but the front of a closed hair salon letting them in had been a shock to the system. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought Harry had lost his mind until he opened the back room door and exposed an entirely different aesthetic. A black and gold elevator, black marble floor and red curtained walls. That had to be a bitch to dust. 

With a key card, he placed it on the gold plated button pad and it opened for them to step inside. Now that she was in the elevator she could hear some music, some people, but nothing she could have ever expected from the street view. Privacy was very important to them, as she could tell. “They’re going to put our phones and my keys into the locker and we’ll get them on the way out. It’s for everyone’s privacy, but there are staff in there to ensure you have an out if you need it.” Unwinding their fingers, his grip changed to her jaw to tilt it up to look at him. The casual dominance had her knees weak. How did he manage to do it so seamlessly? “We’re gonna check out coats, and then we’ll go in. You are safe with me, Pet.” His tone was gentle, reminding her again how he had been the best thing to wander into her life. There was no saying shit just to say it. The man wanted to assure her, drill it into her brain, that he was completely here for her and everything they did was because she wanted to do it. 

As intimidating as it was, she swallowed the lump around her throat and gave him a nod before allowing him to take her coat off.  Standing in front of a hostess and the man who worked the coat check in her little outfit had made her a little stiff at first, but the moment she heard the quiet curse under his breath, their opinions didn’t matter. 

He had chosen a maroon babydoll for her to wear tonight. Satin cups clung over her breasts while it transferred to a tight knit mesh-like material that flowed over her body and hit her upper thighs. The panties had been a bit of a different choice, rather simple silk ones with lace trim. She’d expected lace, a g string, something else but they were really nice. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it made her feel sexy as she had tugged them up her thighs and settled the waistband on her hips. The outfit had surprised her a little considering she had thought maybe he’d want her to wear something completely form fitting or restrictive, like spandex or leather, but instead he’d gone with something more flowy and light. Maybe he was starting them soft for the first time, but it was the sexiest she had felt so far in her life. 

“You look incredible.” He mumbled, placing the coat numbers on the counter with their phones and his keys. “Fuck me.” Lithe fingers traced over the straps, the feather light touch stopping at the necklace he’d chosen for her tonight. A simple gold chain with a heart. At first she had thought he would give her one of those collars, but she wasn’t sure how that worked. 

“I was going to give you the one with my first initial, but I was saving that.” The admission made her eyebrows raise. Why hadn’t he done that? “I wanted to ease you into it, and for some reason you’ve been turnin’ me into a possessive son of a bitch. Wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep composure if it was on there like that… But I don’t think that matters too much now, anyway.” 

Harry had always known he was attracted to Y/N in otherworldly, almost inappropriately intense ways. While he could be a jealous man, he hadn’t felt it to this degree. Irritated that she didn’t have his name on her neck or a traditional sign of ownership. He was a weak man when it came to her, but he didn’t mind when he could see her preen slightly over his words. The one thing that was soothing his inner caveman was the fact that she had marks from him on her body. Love bites blooming from the swell of her left breast and one he’d sucked on the right side of her neck, a few little bruises from his fingers digging into her hips… They were little badges of honor. 

He’d caught her this morning, admiring them in the foggy mirror. He’d come to bring a fresh towel before she got into the shower and watched quietly as she ran her fingers over the marked skin, the tiniest little smile on her lips that made his cock twitch. If they hadn’t had plans to come here tonight he would have bent her over the counter and gave her more. That silent appreciation at the tiniest hints of ownership meant more than she would ever know. 

“I can wear it next time.” She peeped, meeting his eyes. “I like this one too, but… I like the other idea.” 

The silence was loud for a moment as he observed her, the admission making her look a little flustered. Every day it seemed they were slipping into something far more serious than they’d set out to, but the unspoken words lingered under their tongues. It wasn’t the right time to discuss. “Noted.” Thumbing over her chin, he nodded at her before tucking the tickets from the coat check into the pocket of his pants. “Come on then, Pet. Let’s have a look.” 

—-

Y/N’s eyes were wide as they took in the vast room around her. 

Holy fuck. Harry hadn’t been kidding about it shocking her system. 

His hand held the back of her neck as she was guided towards the bar, where she was warned didn’t sell any actual alcohol for safety reasons. It matched and exceeded her expectations upon first glance. 

The stage was set up with some sort of bench, but it was obvious they’d come before the show had begun. People milled about, laughing and talking as if nothing abnormal was happening- like the woman in her all spandex dress chatting to the bartender, drink in one hand and chain in the other. Connected to the other end of the chain was a man on his knees for her, leather mask covering everything but his eyes and mouth. Not far from her in a booth across the way, a man had a woman on his lap with his hand down her top, playing with her tits and keeping a conversation. 

It wasn’t extreme, no, but it had her a bit spooked. Even more so when she looked to the side and saw a girl on her knees and her face buried under another woman’s dress. So he hadn’t been kidding- it really did happen anywhere. 

Heat flushed over her chest as she averted her gaze, blinking rapidly as she tried to calm her heart. It wasn’t a bad thing, she didn’t think, because she could feel herself becoming excited. Just a walk through and she was warm in her tummy, feeling that anticipation climbing all the way up her throat. She had to wonder what Harry was going to surprise her with tonight. 

“Alright?” He mumbled, turning to face her as they approached the bar. The promise of a sweet, sugary mocktail had been enticing but now her curiosity was wanting to take over. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

“No, Sir.” She shook her head, meeting his eyes. The hand on the back of her neck gave a subtle squeeze, pulling her a little closer. “It’s… I’m curious to see what else goes on, but I think it’s interesting.”

“A lot of things are happening in the rooms. The main stage show isn’t anything too extreme, but the rooms are different theaters on this level, and playrooms on the top level.” The split level was apparent to her now, reminding her a bit of a hotel lobby she’d stayed at once on holiday. Rooms surrounding the top with a walkway that looked down while the bottom was an open concept until it split into four hallways. The place was truly beautiful, albeit a bit intimidating. “What did you want to drink?” 

Y/N looked over the menu with curious eyes, smiling lightly when she saw someone had made a plethora of fruity and sweet concoctions modeled after bubblegum, blue raspberry, cherry, all sorts of stuff. There were more tame things, pina colada and mint julep, but considering she was experimenting tonight she chose something she normally wouldn’t. “Can I have the cotton candy one, Sir?” 

“You may, yes.” The subtle correction had her face flushing for a moment, but she could see he was teasing a little from the dimple threatening to break on his face. God, he was so gorgeous.

It was always apparent that Harry was handsome, but seeing him like this was a whole different experience. His shoulders were bigger, back straighter, a more controlled and poised version of him was at the helm. Was this his best self? Being a dominant, taking and guiding her? He’d said multiple times he liked taking care of people, liked being in charge, so it must feel really good to have her eyes on him at all times. 

When she’d brought up that she’d read a lot about people in her books had dominants that preferred them to avert their eyes, but he’d scoffed at it. In opposition, he’d told her to keep her eyes on him at most times. Joked about it soothing a bit of his ego, but she wasn’t sure how much of it was really a joke at this point. Either way, there would be no complaints about that when the man looked as good as him. Sharp jaw and nose, dark lips, eyelashes that pissed her off because they were so pretty… The man had a way about him that reminded her of classical art. 

When the bartender came over he was greeted with a smile, which he reciprocated with a small one of his own before ordering her the drink she wanted and himself some sort of iced tea thing. She had no clue, considering she was a little busy zoning out. His hand had started to subtly massage the back of her neck and her eyes had glazed over a bit, being pressed into his side making the scent of him increasingly soothing. Perhaps he was doing it for that exact reason, but that was why he was in charge. He knew what to do to calm her nerves. 

As soon as the bartender walked away, he turned back towards her. “And how are you feeling?” Eyes dipping over her body, Y/N swallowed as she knew exactly what he was talking about- and why he looked so damn smug. 

He’d helped her put a plug in before they left. The smallest one, but it had still worked her up a significant amount. There had been something weirdly erotic knowing that he would know why she was shifting around. Trying anal for the first time the night prior had been a mind meltingly good experience, making her even more eager to try new things. It had always been a fantasy of hers, but she hadn’t realized just how good it would feel. How full and connected she would be with it- but again, that was possibly just a Harry thing. He had made the simplest thing far more pleasurable. 

“Good.” She nodded, watching his eyes linger on her breasts. He’d spent time after their sex last night kissing on them in appreciation, letting his lips hover over the marks before he lotioned over her body. Physical touch had to be his top love language, she had deduced. “I, um… It feels weird when I walk. But not bad, Sir.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re walking a bit differently, but you’ll grow used to it. Even more so, I think you’re going to learn to love it.” Adjusting the strap that seemed to be slipping down her shoulder continuously, he let his touch linger. “You’re going to be my good girl and let everyone see how perfect you are, aren’t you?” The tone of his voice dropped into a deeper one, her body reacting to it as she leaned into his touch. “I can’t decide if I want you perched on my lap all night, or if I want you on your knees in front of me.” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Decisions, decisions.”

“Whatever you’d like me to do, Sir.” She replied, though there was no true preference. Y/N was aiming to please tonight, subconsciously feeling the pressure to prove she could be a good submissive for him. 

“Oh, I know, pet. You don’t have a choice in that.” He laughed under his breath. “Precious girl. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll tell you to sit and speak like my good Pup, alright? You just stick to me.” 

Y/N a few months ago would probably try to fight his words and the condescending tone because that was what was expected of her. Y/N a few months ago would ignore her body when it reacted to those words. Y/N now, though, let her eyes widen and simply agreed, because deep down that’s what she’s been wanting to do. 

When the drinks arrived, her eyes widened at how pretty it was. A soft pink with some sort of glittery shimmer in the drink, the movement of the liquid catching the light. It was by far the most beautiful drink she’d ever seen in her life, and she didn’t want to waste a drop. Holding it in her hand, she let Harry wrap up with the bartender before turning back to her with a new look on his face. “C’mon, it’s time t’say hi to some people. Best behavior.” With a slight pinch to her chin, he led her off.

Harry’s familiarity was evident in how easily he navigated the club. Winding through people with polite nods and greetings, he radiated the now familiar air of power. It was a little different here, though. While he always held the power in the bedroom, there was something that had snapped on his face when they walked in the room that had her ever curious about his past experiences here. Experiences she wouldn’t ask about for her own sake of delicate feelings, but things that he must have done, said, experienced in this secret cove of underground pleasures. 

Yes, it was a bit whips and chains-y, but there was a classy layer to it that she liked here. The weird feeling of belonging settled in her gut as his hand squeezed the back of her neck, keeping her close as they approached a slightly elevated section. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, taking in every bare tit, every collar, every hand wrapped in hair and laugh in the room as he led her up towards their destination that she had almost missed it completely.

Thankfully she caught herself as Harry gently urged them to a stop right in front of a booth full of people. Semi circular, the tabletop was a bit far from the booth itself- but it was clear why as she looked down at the people. 

There were two people on their knees of their perspective dominants. A brunette with her cheek resting on a blonde woman’s knee, fingers brushing through her dark hair and sparkling nails catching the light as she did so had particularly caught her eye. Instead of a tight outfit like the domme at the bar, she had on a powersuit. Her eyes didn’t look down towards her submissive though giving her physical attention, sharp hazel eyes looking over Y/N like a examination. 

“Isn’t she delicious, Styles?” She purred, cat like grin painting her red lips. “Who is she? I know you’ve been gone for a bit… is she why?” The woman seemed pleased at the prospect of Harry having a new submissive, even if she looked at her like she could eat her for lunch. Her face felt hot as she looked up at Harry, the ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“She is.” The confirmation had the people at the table grinning which caught her a bit off guard. They didn’t know she was temporary and he seemed in no rush to tell them- and neither was she. Maybe they could play pretend here, like she was really his and he wanted to keep her for good. The first of many times they’d come together for as long as they felt so inclined. “This is Y/N. She’s been a wonderful little pet for me. My favorite.” A hand fondly ran over her hair, a little smile on his lips now as he was happy to show her off. “She’s a little new to this, but very eager to learn. So tread lightly, yeah?” 

For some reason the information being told didn’t offend her. Maybe if someone else here seemed like it was funny to them, if they’d scoffed, did anything but look understanding she would feel that shame, but they didn’t. They simply nodded, letting Harry slip into the end of the booth. “On my lap for now, Pet.” He patted his thigh, holding his ringed hand out for her to take.

Y/N could feel eyes on her as she nodded, a quiet ‘yes sir’ leaving her lips as she was adjusted over his lap, legs over his thighs as he wound his arm around her waist to keep her body steady. “Say hello.” The words weren’t disguised as a request. It was clearly an order. Why did she find it so hot? 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you all.” She peeped, leaning into Harry’s touch as he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. It was pretty clear on who was a dominant at the table, versus the submissive. Two were on their knees, two sitting under their dominant’s arms, and one in a similar position to Y/N. 

“Is it your first time here?” A man asked this time. His voice was softer spoken but there was an edge to him that screamed that he was in charge. It was a little similar to Harry in which he looked kind, but anyone with sense would know not to question their particular brand of authority. 

“It is, yes. H-Sir was helping me adjust before I came here. He is the best teacher.” Throwing in a bit of praise for the dominant had the desired affect, lips brushing her cheek in a chaste kiss. 

“What are your thoughts? It’s intimidating, isn’t it?” The woman from before asked curiously, though the hungry spark didn’t leave her eye until Harry spoke to her. 

“I’m not sharing her, Cara.” He said lowly, his hold tightening on her. “She’s not on the menu. Look but don’t touch.” There was a slight edge to his voice though it wasn’t hostile quite yet. Secretly, Y/N let herself preen over the possessive nature being shone through. Knowing he had no desire to let anyone else have a taste of her was beyond comforting- which, she knew was entirely ironic considering the context in which they met.

“Oh, boo.” She sighed. “You’re very beautiful. Harry’s not fond of sharing his chips either so I should have known, but there’s no harm in trying.” The demeanor shifted slightly to something lighter. “My girl likes to have playmates sometimes, but we’re a little picky.” 

Y/N could only imagine. If Harry expressed desire to add someone in for a scene she wouldn’t be too fond of letting just anyone in… but then again, she didn’t want to share in at all in the first place. It wasn’t a closed minded thing, more so the idea of someone else taking his attention away from her making her stomach ache. 

“It’s good to be picky.” Harry nodded. “But my girl isn’t up for shared scenes. I don’t think I’ll ever want to share her.” Fingers brushed over her cheek, still cool from his drink. “I don’t think anyone can blame me for being selfish with a beauty like this.” 

Heat flooded her body, a shy smile on her lips as she looked at him and watched his eyes darken. His pupils dilate. There was no question in her mind that there was truth to his words in this way she had just witnessed them, but it still felt unreal. “You wouldn’t want to share me either, would you?” The words had been softened just for her consumption, the moment being looked over by the others who began talking amongst themselves. For them, though, they were in their own little bubble. 

“No, sir.” The whisper matched his own volume, but the answer made him pleased. She could tell by the look on his face, lightening her own mood just by that alone. Y/N never knew how much she would truly enjoy this sort of thing, never understood how much Harry would change her life, but she was here now and it felt far more intense than one could imagine. 

“Then we’re settled, yeah? They can watch us, but m’not gonna let them touch you. Nor me.” The addition made her giggle, though it was cut off when he caught her lips in a soft kiss. Gentle pressings over her mouth, she counted three before he pulled back and rubbed over her chin. A wistful look followed, his eyes full of contemplation as he looked her over. Back and forth, his thumb swiped the remnants of the kiss before he let himself out of the mindset, leaning back into the booth. “Since you’ve had your greetings, I want you on your knees for me.” Reaching behind him he got a little cushion, dropping it on the floor. Spreading his legs out, he motioned for her to get between them. At least he was thoughtful with her poor knees. 

Y/N was weirdly excited for it. Slowly sinking down and settling with her heels touching her bum, she looked up at him expectantly as he watched her get settled in her new position. It felt… right, being here. Like this. Looking up at him as he spread his legs and looked down at her with a practiced patience on his face. “Sit quietly like a good girl. We’re going to go watch that show in a room in 20 minutes. If you can behave here, I’ll make sure you cum tonight.” 

Y/N knew what he meant. Not to provoke him and get him hard. As much as she wanted to do that, wanted to mouth at his cock and be a brat so he’d force it in her mouth,’or her over his lap to redden her ass, she wasn’t quite that brave yet. Tonight was to prove she could be a good girl for him, the best she could be. Maybe if she was good enough, he’d tell her that he was keeping her. 

Listening to his order, she rested her cheek on his thigh and closed her eyes as she found herself in the situation the other woman had been when they’d arrived at the table. His fingers sprawled through her hair as he talked quietly amongst friends, twirling tendrils between his digits as he got to the ends of it. Every so often the submissive could feel his eyes look down at her, which had her opening her eyes and smiling up at him. The pleased expression he had each and every time had her wondering if he knew what went through her mind. 

If he told her to break up with Danny? She probably would. If he confessed that he had feelings for her, that he wanted her as his real partner, submissive or not, she would release herself from the other relationship she was having major doubts about anyways and go to him. Belong to him seriously.

Even being on her goddamn knees in front of him at a kink club, she felt more appreciated than she ever had. Even when he called her a dirty bitch, a nasty whore, a cockslut, she felt more worshiped and heard and ultimately cared for than she ever had. Harry listened to her. There was never a singular time since they’d started this arrangement that he hadn’t thought about her wants or safety in great detail. He hand fed her fruit he sliced by hand after scenes, brought up juice to her mouth and whispered to her to have sips after he was finished ruining her body. He broke her apart, yeah, but he built her back up again. Even better than he had first found her, if she was being honest. 

Never in her life has she felt as heard, scene, and adored as she did when Harry gave her aftercare. When he texted her through the week to make sure she had a good day. When he asked her her favorite color the first day they met and made sure she had light pink straws in her drinks each and every time. Harry paid attention to her. Not just in scenes, where he seemed to pick apart her every reaction and know just how much she could handle, but last night too. He could feel her upset, did what he could to fix it. Proved yet again that he was the better option of the two.

What was stopping her? 

Fear. Not of Harry, not of Danny, but fear of losing this feeling. She’d end up alone again, wistful for this exact scenario where she knew she couldn’t get it again. No one else would be able to make her feel the way Harry felt in her body and her mind and that was fucking terrifying. Admitting that only to potentially be rejected was worse than staying in a bad relationship. Maybe she was a coward- she knew she was- but she needed his promise. His words. Too many times in her life she had been let down, let her heart hurt and chip and bruise. A rejection from him would shatter her heart and all the work she had put into mending it and the wall she had tried to build up to make her softness toughen up a bit would be inconceivably damaged. 

Times like tonight, meeting his eye and watching him tuck her hair behind her ear as she rubbed her face against his knee, she swore she could see the golden flecks of longing in his eyes too. When they were in bed after their scenes and his arms wrapped around her so he could haul her back into his body, she could feel inklings of something more under her skin. Even when he’d greeted her last night with a kiss in his driveway, a kiss she knew would lead to nothing sexual and just a genuine token of affection, she had felt that something was more with him. And yet she was frozen with fear every time she went to ask him how he felt about her. Terrified that he would reject her and their entire dynamic would be screwed. 

Little did she know, he had the same dilemma.

Watching her nuzzled into him, sitting so fucking perfect and pretty and meeting his eye with those gorgeous fucking smiles, she looked so content with him. Like she was made to be in this exact scenario. He’d never felt more proud of having someone on his arm, and yet she wasn’t actually his. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without spilling those feelings towards her.

His holdback was the fact that she was the one in a relationship. She’d tried to mend things with Danny, but part of his confusion was knowing if she did it because she wanted to or if he had stupidly pushed that by trying to do the right thing about it when she expressed her resentment towards him. All he wanted to do was make the girl happy. It was only a few months of knowing her. He shouldn’t feel this much, so soon. 

Realistically he knew that it was likely because they shared such intimate parts of themselves with one another. This dynamic, lived in even if only on the weekends, was intense and serious and Y/N leaned into every bit of it with an eagerness only matching her nicknames sake. A puppy. So fucking sweet, she’d roll over and show belly if he asked her to right now, but instead she was content with her face on his leg and his hand in her hair. 

His mind wandered to what it could be like if she left the other man. If she walked away and went into his arms, let him show her how he could treat her so much better. What she didn’t know as well was he was still holding back a bit. Emotionally, more so.  

His heart felt like it was in his throat when he grazed his fingers past her cheek, watching her lashes lift off her cheek so she could give him her eyes. “You’re bein’ perfect for me, Pet.” He murmured, watching as she preened. His words always seemed to have a significant effect on her but the girl was slipping into a more submissive state with him here. It was his job to take care of her, to show her the things she’d been missing out on and desperate to experience. “Are you ready to go and watch?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She lifted her cheek from his knee and angled her head back, allowing him to tap his fingers over her chin and get a smile from her. Everything felt more loaded than they could talk about right now, but she was doing exactly what she needed to do. Falling into line so perfectly that Harry really didn’t have much he needed to correct. Pride filled his chest as he let himself smile back at her, nudging her to stand up. 

“Lets go then. Stay with me.”

—-

Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected in this scenario, but she knew there was nothing that would be realistic in her mind that could have prepared her for this night. Walking into the room where the scene had already begun, Harry held the back of her neck and led her towards a loveseat in the back. The throple on stage weren't paying anyone much mind, the room half full as the sounds of a masculine groan filled the air. The stage was lit with two doms and a sub, all beautiful in their own right. 

She stayed quiet as she waited for directions from Harry, eyes on him as he settled himself on the seat. He didn’t speak, instead grabbing her waist and turning her around to sit on his lap. Back against his chest, he spread his legs and hooked one each of her thighs over his own to sprawl her out. The position left her rather exposed too, but the thrill of it caught in her chest as she felt the thick of his cock against her ass and his arm wrapping around her waist. 

“Look at them.” He mumbled, keeping his tone quiet. “Watch.” With his chin against her shoulder, he slid his fingers over her thighs. Up and down, the touch slightly distracted her from the performance going on up the stage. It was becoming very apparent that her devotion to the Dominant was deeper rooted than she’d thought. All this time she’d been anticipating this, but all she could do was think about him and his hands on her. 

“How does it make you feel?” His lips grazed the shell of her ear as he looked towards the show himself. “They make a nice little show, don’t they? Is that something you’ve thought of?” In front of the girl on her knees stood the Domme and other Dominant. The Domme’s hands held a leather leash connected to the collar of the girl, wrapped around her fist as the other hand gripped the submissive’s ponytail to bob her head on the man’s cock. Y/N did her best to pay attention to the performance in front of her, the wet heat between her thighs getting more intense as his fingertips brushed up and down the exposed, vulnerable flesh of her inner thigh. Images of it being them flooded her brain, the barriers breaking as his lips nestled right underneath her ear, puckering just so. 

In her vision, there would be no Domme. The scene would include just him and her, his hand wrapped around the leash tight as a show of ownership. Her collar would be prettier, something more suited to her personally. Maybe a pink leather or more of a chain with a heart charm like she’d seen on one of the other subs at the table, but it would be one he picked out special for her. His fist would have her locks wrapped around it like a secondary leash, using her mouth and showing off just how much she could take. Ideally, it would be after she trained a bit more to take him deeper. She loved the idea of people being able to watch her, to see her take him down her throat. Being able to see how well Harry handled her, how she listened to him, the dynamic between them. Maybe at some point she’d be able to be a bit more bratty and get punished for it- having him fuck her throat as a punishment, or use his hand against her ass. 

“Hm? I asked you a question. Answer me.” He muttered, nipping the delicate skin of her neck. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head. Can almost hear it from here.” 

Y/N swallowed, leaning further back into him as she tried to unfurl her tongue to tell him. “I-I like it. I’m thinking about us up there, Sir.” Keeping her voice quiet to be respectful to the throuple, she tried to be loud enough for him to hear. It was hard with how shaky her voice felt, his fingers trailing over the edge of her humid panties. It was hard to think straight with him touching her, his scent all over and his mouth on her neck and the sound of the praises from the Domme, the submissive choking slightly on the Dominant’s cock. 

“You are?” He sounded intrigued. “Hm. I think you’d look pretty up there. What part of it is making your poor cunt wet like this?” Fingers tapped against the damp gusset of her panties, teasing with the light touch. It wasn’t enough to make her feel much relief, but the knowledge his hand was there was enough to make her swallow back a whimper. “I know you love my attention, but I’m starting to think you’re a bit more of an attention whore than I thought.” 

The light degrading made her dizzy, the arm around her waist lifting to grip her throat lightly. “Keep talking, Puppy. Quietly.” 

It was hard to keep talking but she tried her best. It was a little unnerving to realize just how much mental power he had over her, but she knew she was safe. Maybe she felt a little pathetic that such light touches had her in a tizzy, but this whole night had been edging, hadn’t it? This was the main event, watching people indulge in the taboo pleasures like it was a theater show while her own Dominant teased her over her panties. “I-I like that she has the collar n’stuff, and people are watching her choke on it.” She whispered out, breathing getting a little harder as he nudged her clit lightly with his thumb. Rhythmic back and forth, just a tiny hint of his touch but it was enough to make her want to buck into it. Harry was making her feel insane, but the entire thing was playing into it. 

Watching them on the stage, knowing other people were around that could see her being spread open and touched like this, the way Harry was hard under her ass, it all had her tummy hot and head fuzzy. “And I like that they’re bein’ a little mean to her. Makin’ fun of her, Sir.” Her tongue felt a bit too big for her mouth as she admitted to those things. The condescending teasing of the Domme to the Submissive each time she failed to take the full length down her throat had sent a zing to her cunt, imagining Harry calling her those names and giving the mean encouragement to get her to do her very best in front of all the other people. 

“Christ, you’re a whore.” Harry laughed incredulously into her neck. “You want to be degraded like that in front of other people? Because… I know for a fact you can’t take all of my dick into that throat. S’a bit too big and as cockhungry as you are, I think you’d be a little embarrassed about not being able to do what you should be able to.” The twinge of shame melted into arousal, his thumb nudging her clit a little harder. Was it a reward?  She didn’t know, but she didn’t want it to stop.“As for the collar…” Fingers uncurled from her waist , moving up to collar her throat. “I think a better one would be better suited for such a slutty puppy. Jus’ didn’t realize you needed to be leashed too.” 

His smallest finger went underneath the necklace that served as a collar for the night, tugging lightly at it. “You’d need to belong t’me properly for that. I don’t collar up just anyone, baby. Is that something you really want?” It was probably not the correct time to dip his toes into the question of a more serious arrangement, but he wanted to hear her answer. 

“Uh-huh. I want it so bad, Daddy. I can be so good for it, I’d love it.” Her whine was a little too loud, a coo leaving his lips as he lightly applied pressure at the sides of her throat to shut her up. The answer, the fucking eagerness of it had his cock twitching against her ass and his heart pumping a bit harder. Maybe it was just a heat of the moment thing, but the vulnerability of the moment had him doubting it was some sort of illusion. 

“Mm. We can discuss that when you’re not so worked up and soaking the pretty panties I got you. You need to keep your voice down, be respectful.” The warning was twofold. He had to table that conversion or he’d get his hopes up far too soon. The slip up of honorifics, though, had been intriguing. “I’m Daddy right now, hm?” 

“Mhm.” She attempted to nod as his fingers lightened their pressure. “Touch me, please. I’m achy.” Squirming slightly in his arms, another squeeze to her throat had her freezing in place before his other hand decided to ease down the waistband of her panties. 

“I don’t know how I feel about you making demands, Pet, but you’re making quite a fucking mess.” His voice dropped, feeling her pulse in his fingertips. “God, you’re gonna cum so fuckin’ quickly. I can feel it.” Y/N was drenched, his thumb finding her slippery clit to rub in light circles. “It’s a little too much for your filthy whore mind, isn’t it? Sitting at my knees, acting like the perfect little submissive for me… Seeing all those pretty people playing, dressed up so nice. And now Daddy’s brought you to a nice little show. You paying attention?” He urged her attention towards the show. “He’s gonna cum on her face, just like I’ve been dying t’do. Or are you more aroused at the knowledge that anyone can look over and see your pussy being pet like a desperate slut?”

Yes, yes, yes. All of the above, check all the boxes. Y/N would beg more if she could find it in her brain to talk, but it felt so good. The light grip at her throat making it slightly harder to breathe, how he was talking hushed into her ear and the vibrations made her feel even more squirmy, his fingers on her cunt, she just felt like she was dreaming. Like this was some sort of high before the ultimate one, looking to the side and catching a few eyes on her. She’d made a tiny bit of noise before, surely making people aware that she wasn’t behaving, but it felt all too real now. 

“And now you’ve gone dumb for me. I need an answer from you, Angel. Need a color before I make you cum.” He nudged her face to the side, lips resting against the corner of her own. “Color?” 

“Green. I’m so good, I-I…” She panted, eyes glazed but looking into his own. They were hooded, dark, and it was obvious in all ways that he was aroused too. He showed more restraint than she did, but he wasn’t unaffected by it all. “Sir…” With little thought to consequences, her own hand came up to the back of his head and pulled him closer so she could press his lips against his. 

Harry didn’t usually kiss in the club. He didn’t like them being seen in that way most of the time, feeling that those were supposed to be shared for more private and intimate moments- but Y/N had a way of making him throw a lot of his prior rules and regulations out the window. Didn’t she? He groaned quietly, licking into her mouth, trying to ignore the hot spark of arousal in his cock her hands tugging his hair closer to her had given him. For a moment, he gave in and enjoyed the taste of her tongue and the uncoordinated mess that was their kiss. He took the moment to slip two fingers into her cunt, curling them into her slick hole to get her to gasp. Hot and tight, he held back another moan at the feeling of her cunt fluttering around the intrusion. It was one of his favorite feelings, her breathing picking up against his mouth. 

The broad hand around her throat tightened again, making her eyes peel open again. Wet mouth illuminated by the red lights around the room, he panted against her open lips. “Remember your fucking place. You want a kiss? You ask. You aren’t in charge. I am.” He growled, trying to keep his voice down as he fucked his fingers into her. “I’m the one in charge. Not you. I choose if you cum or not, I choose if you get kissed or fuck. Your body is mine to play with. You’d do well to remember that, or you’ll be the next one on that stage.” He grinned maliciously. “And I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I won’t be as nice as I’ve been before.” 

Letting up on the grip, he swallowed her gasp with another kiss. 

It was moments like this that Y/N could see it. She could see this being her life, this being her night out with him. Instead of dingy bars with sports games she didn’t give a singular fuck about, she could be here watching shows and learning, she could have Harry’s fingers deep inside of her, his cock inside of her, whatever he chose, giving her pleasure that was immeasurable to what she’d ever known before. A literal wet dream came true. 

Y/N couldn’t respond, nodding lazily as the slick sound of her cunt being fucked with his fingers slicked up by her arousal became slightly audible. The throuple on stage was the loudest sound in the room, but underneath it all she could hear exactly what he was doing to her. It was humiliating to be this wet, to be this close to orgasm from a few minutes of his fingers thrusting in and out of her, a bit of choking, his whispers against her ear, a few people peering over at them and she loved it. His hand around her throat, keeping her tight to his body, and she felt the most free she’d ever been. 

There was an attempt to warn him, his fingers prodding right at her spot and her legs beginning to tremble as she squirmed slightly on his lap, but he could tell she wouldn’t be able to be quiet. He’d have to force her to be. “Let go. Make a mess on my fingers and be fucking quiet.” The dominant let her take another deep inhale before he returned his fingers to the sides of her neck, applying pressure exactly where she needed it to steal the rest of her breath. 

Y/N could see spots in her vision as she came. If he wasn’t stopping it, she probably would have sobbed out as she shook in his arms. Cumming hard and fast, hips bucking into his hand, his words cooed softly against her ear and brought up chills against her skin as the vibrations added to the sensations that tossed her over the edge. 

“There you go, stay nice and quiet. Cum all over my fingers, you perfect fuckin’ girl.” He coaxed, pressing them against that spot over and over again whilst his thumb rubbed her throbbing clit. She could feel the contractions of her walls around him, a deep breath being taken as he eased up on her throat to make sure she recovered, but he didn’t stop his prodding. “Work through it. People just saw that, yeah? Saw how good you are, amazing and how quiet you can be. Saw how beautiful you are when you cum for me. Such a precious angel.” Little kisses were pressed to her sticky skin, her mind pleasantly fuzzy and a little empty as his words soothed the orgasm that rocked through her body. “There we go, sweet girl. Y’did perfectly. Took your reward so well, yeah? You were made for this.” His praise added another layer of warm, fluffy comfort to the pleasant feeling that coated her body, the words echoing in her brain. All she could think about was how good she had been, how good it had felt. Good, good, good. She was a good girl and Harry was proud of her. “Gonna take you home in a few, baby. Just let you get a good cuddle in first, clean you up and sneak out of here. We’ll come back and you can see our new friends again.” 

This whole thing had pleasured her. Not just the orgasm, but the entire place. Her head had felt calm since she’d settled at Harry’s feet, quickly getting over nerves and settling into that feeling of correctness. Ease. It felt like she belonged here, even with the underlying anxiety. With anyone else but Harry she wasn’t sure if she would have felt that, but it had just been another experience he had made positive for her. Of course he did. He was perfect. 

He’d walked her through it, held her hand, helped her know what to expect but- She’d known she would like this sort of thing. Y/n had always thought about it, but actually experiencing it was a whole other beast. One she wanted to experience again, and again, and again- If Harry would let her.

[emeryhall]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Also, thank you to @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for asking me this question too! ❤️ Here goes...

Only Creatures (88K, E)

The fic I just completed. I think this is my best plot with the possible exception of, well, see below. In the middle, I felt like I had so many balls in the air, I was afraid I wouldn't catch them all, or at least not gracefully, but I think I managed it. I've been working on my plots hinging on character choices. They walk through a door, the door shuts behind them, they cannot re-open it, and they change. I feel like I finally got it with this fic. And then there was the morning I woke up to find that @artsyunderstudy had drawn art for chapter 5 and my heart exploded. Except she kept drawing art and every time, I got to see my words come to life in the most beautiful way imaginable. Oh, oh! And then @monbons sewed me a little wings & tail Simon doll and Baz in his PJs, and I adore them ❤️❤️

Blood Sugar Sex Moony (63K, E)

The other contender for best plot. I think this is possibly my most creative fic. Sirius and Remus are both canon-compliant guerrilla soldiers from 1981 AND a goth-boy and star quarterback at a SoCal high school in the mid-90s. I wrote it for the 2023 @rsbigbang, which finally narrowed the wolfstar community down to a small enough group that I could make friends! It's also how I met @euripidestrousers who shaped this fic into what it became. And I was lucky enough to get the amazing artist @spikesteaseasalt as its illustrator.

A Little Bit Deadly (49K, E)

Derek Jeter. Need I say more? This fic was my introduction to the Carry On fandom, and that is reason alone for it to be one of my favorites. Y'all are a beautiful community of people who have been so kind and enthusiastic and welcoming. I'm delighted to be a part of you. ❤️ This fic was another one where I woke up from having posted the last chapter and found that @letraspal had made art - ART! And then she kept making art, including the glorious Mr. June. Derek Jeter was modeled on my amazing orange chonk who died, and every time I see Annie's drawings of him, it makes me cry a little. I feel like he gets to live on in this fic and Annie's art.

The Space Between (34K, M)

This is the first fic I wrote, having read absolutely zero fanfic. It was tagged entirely wrong, had a terrible summary, and only three kudos for, like, ages. But I had one enthusiastic reader who left me the kindest comments about my writing, and since then, it's gained its handful of fans who don't mind a little sadness. I still think it contains some of my prettiest writing, and I love the "behind the veil" space I created, which came out of my studies of Symbolist playwrights for my doctorate.

night after night, I let you eat me alive (8K, E)

Aka, my cannibalism fic. This one took me by surprise. I wrote this ridiculous short story because I needed a break from my Big Bang fic, then wondered if I should post it at all because I thought it was too out there. Happily, some of the RS/BB crew encouraged me because people love it. I love writing comedy, and I think this is the funniest thing I've written. But also, a sweet little fluffy love story - with a twist!

[qpjianghu]

shaking crying screaming throwing up re: Desire Catcher (2019)

(Show CW: there is sexual violence involved in the core case. Please take care!)

I need to just ramble incoherently for a hot sec because oooooo boy the vibes are impeccable??

The TLDR is:

The two male leads have a relationship that's like Wangxian spiced with Pingxie. I know. I KNOW. The pining is off the charts, my friends. Truly unparalleled.

There is absolutely no romance whatsoever! (Except for the case where there are two men who adopt an abandoned baby together?? I mean?? ^_^) Huge win for the aros!!

If that's all you need, read no further, I shall not spoil. Come back and scream with me when you're done.

More detail below:

There are lots of surface-level similarities to Under the Skin: Frenemies-to-bromance male leads, one is a cop with a chip on his shoulder and impeccable dark/leather jackets, the other is a floppy-haired, khaki-wearing consultant with a peppy demeanor that hides deep personal trauma... but, honestly, I think Desire Catcher is what Under the Skin WISHES it was. (No shade if you loved Under the Skin -- I just personally wanted a bit more from it.)

The male leads, my goodness. Zheng Yecheng plays Lu Fengping, and Xin Yunlai plays Luo Fei. They are both so FREAKIN' good. Their characters at first just seem like typical archetypes of the stoic one and the bubbly one (WHICH I LOVE ANYWAY) but they take everything to the next level with their microexpressions that both reveal and conceal their haunted pasts, and extreme pining. Which leads me to...

The Wangxian of it all... *delighted sigh*... The person who wrote like the one fic on Ao3 in this fandom pointed out (much more eloquently than I'm about to) that Luo Fengping spends most of the show trying (and not knowing how) to save Lu Fengping the same way that Lan Wangji spends so much time trying (and not knowing how) to save Wei Wuxian. I won't spoil anything about their successes vs. failures in this post, but I have been turning around this brilliant point in my head for a week now and I am still vibrating at a totally normal frequency about them.

Which brings me to the devastating trope of how do you save someone who doesn't want to be saved? Yes yes yes OF COURSE this is a Mysterious Lotus Casebook reference. Come chew glass with meeeeeeee

And there's also: The Girl Cop!! (lol) Liang Yin!!!!! I ended up loving her. I need to watch the show again just so I can love her more, because the whole time I was worried she would become a love interest to one of the guys she shared a past with. But they all find solace and redemption WITHOUT romance!! What a concept!

Which brings me to another show this one reminded me of: the k-drama The Guest. That show also has a glorious polycule who are all connected through a shared trauma and need each other to heal. HOOK IT TO MY VEINS.

The case of the week stuff was pretty good. And by pretty good I mean completely devastating.

The big final plot resolution was a little werd ngl but you just gotta squint through some of the copaganda, shhh, it's fine

(The ENDING though.... literally just heart eyes all over the place, motherfuckers)

Look I know I said there wasn't any romance, but Luo Fei and Lu Fengping spend at least five minutes every episode pining at each other / into each other's eyes RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD while a dramatic ballad plays in the background, so, like. That's a thing. <3

Did I literally pay for the more expensive Viki subscription service so I could gif their pining in better HD?? Who's to say???

[melting-houses-of-gold]

Hello! I have been following you for a bit, mostly for ACOTAR content, but I did read your newest Rexsoka work and I really enjoyed it! I am extremely new to the Rexsoka/Clone Wars fandom but would like to dabble in it and see if anything catches my fancy. Do you have any recommendations or places to start? I know there’s a lot out there but their dynamic and tension reminds me a bit of a few ACOTAR ships so I’m curious! Thanks so much 😊

Hi anon! I'm twirling my hair that my little fic got you interested--it's a ship that's VERY near and dear to my heart! We have some great fic writers, so I would LOVE to recommend some of my favorites.

I don't know if you've watched any Clone Wars, so I'm going to list some here where you don't need to have any significant pre-knowledge of canon. If you have watched any, I can totally rec some of the more canon-compliant/divergent ones that I've enjoyed. So these are all AUs, which I adore anyways.

In no particular order, here are some faves, and honestly ANY of the works by these authors are ones I'd recommend!

I lied when I said I didn't need you by @jewelofmandalore: A GFFA college AU that has exquisite dynamics. She's also kicking off a great series that's very loosely inspired by House of the Dragon's Rhaenyra and Harwin, but no knowledge of either Star Wars or HOTD is needed to enjoy this one!

sharp & glorious thorn by @chocmarss: Medieval vibes, enemies to lovers, and some simply gorgeous writing. I re-read this one probably once a month -- it's just so delicious.

they didn't prepare him for this on kamino by @darthgoosegoose: this is a WIP but so juicy! When ACOTAR folks start dipping a toe in rexsoka this is the one I recommend because it has such impeccable sithy, enemies to lovers, quarantine couple vibes. I love it so much.

one day by @amukmuk: Modern AU, friends to lovers, and so beautifully written. this one is for sure slow-burn vibes and I cried when it was done, because the ending had such a good payoff.

shameless plug for something I wrote with friends: The Valley of the Mythosaur, which is loosely (LOOSELY) inspired by The Mummy.

Feel free to slide into my DMs if you need any more recs. There's so much incredible fic in the clone wars fandom for so many excellent ships, so if you're ever looking for anything beyond rexsoka, happy to help and share the brain rot.

[sweetmonsooncos]

The First Cosplay I Ever Made...

Last year, I took a dive into a very dangerous rabbit hole of sewing. It came about for two reasons:

Number One - My Mum would make amendments to my clothes for them to fit me better like shortening trouser legs and such - it always seemed so simple so I wanted to learn how to do it as well.

Number Two - Because of my body type, there were certain cosplays I just couldn't buy pre-made due to Asian sizing not catering to me.

So I wanted to share the process of me making my first ever cosplay from scratch and how I managed to achieve it.

And the cosplay is...Mikan Tsumiki from Danganronpa!

Mikan has always been a very polarising character within the DR fandom I've noticed, but me personally I really like her! She was one of the very first characters I cosplayed and she's gone under alot of alterations since I first got into her. So let's dive in to how I made Mikan!!!!!

So first thing I did was buy my fabric. I went to my local fabric shop and picked up some white, pink and blue cotton. Ultimately I didn't end up going with the blue pictured here because I made a mistake and had to buy more fabric. I went with a lighter one because I was a tit and didn't think to colour match but the lighter skirt worked out better in the end so I'm going to pretend I did it on purpose 🙈

First thing I tackled was her apron, which I figured would be the easiest thing to begin with! So, I measured out the white fabric and cut it out, then used a basic running stitch to put it altogether. I also cut a longer strip, neatened it up on the sides and then attached this to the top to make a tie for her apron. Using some red ribbon, I hot glued that down on the sides to make that piece appear. I wasn't sure whether to sew on the ribbon, but I'm actually really glad I didn't because if any of you read my Jolyne cosplay post, sewing with ribbons is a BITCH 😭

Then I went in and did the bottom of the apron, adding some very square pockets and neatening up as best I could!

I also binge watched Staged on my iPad (you can see the glorious David Tennant in the corner) while I sewed this all up and that show is just another reminder how well David Tennant and Michael Sheen work together on stuff

When it was ready, I attached the full apron together and it was done! I went in later on with a fabric pen and drew the blue symbol towards the bottom of the apron which you'll see in the finished photos.

Next was her skirt! I had a vague idea of how the skirt making would go; the first photo was the material cut to size and the second one was my first attempt at making it pleated...it wasn't great 😂 You can see from the side that it looks HORRENDOUS - I showed it to my friend and he said it looked like a parachute so clearly it wasn't giving the desired effect 🙈

After my second attempt, I was a bit put off trying to sew in pleats again, so I just ironed them down and it came out a lot better! I neatened up the top and bottom and the skirt was completed. I do want to add since I took these photos, I actually recently went and added a zip to the back of the skirt so I can get it on easier! I also made it fit me a little better too.

Next was her blouse! For this, I read up about using pre-exsiting clothes to make patterns for sewing, so I got a blouse that I use for my Kaede Akamatsu cosplay and made a pattern out of it. I then went and cut the fabric out and basically sewed it altogether.

And it was during this process, I came face to face with a new enemy...SLEEVES.

Oh my god, I absolutely CANNOT STAND SLEEVES. I tried SO hard to understand how to put them on, but I could not for the life of me work it out. To this day, I still struggle with adding sleeves to my projects and I absoliutely hate having to sew them. I made a little test sleeve out of some spare fabric to see how it would sit on my arm, but I really struggled with the fit on the shoulder so I went for a different style instead which was easier to work with (but only slightly).

So after the sleeve debacle was sorted, I went and added some elastic on the ends of the sleeves as trim, which I hoped would make it bunch up like it does in her original outfit, but it didn't really work out that well. I'm probably going to revisit this at some point in the future to make it a bit more bunched, but that's for another time! I also made a collar and gave the blouse some buttons.

This was the first try on of the complete outfit and you can tell how pleased I am with it! I was so proud of making this entire thing by myself and although it is far from perfect, I did learn a lot through the process and it felt so nice to be able to wear a cosplay I had completely made from scratch.

And here is the cosplay in full with makeup and hair!!!

For my first ever cosplay from scratch, I am extremely proud of it and am happy to say it has held up well almost an entire year later!

[princesscolumbia]

Return to Recipient, Ch. 5 - Akane One Note

I just can't seem to stop writing for this story...

Summary:

Akane has been noticing things seem...different. She's not sure what's going on, but Ranma seems to be at the center of it. He's doing...schoolwork and making friends and... ...okay that's not exactly 'nefarious,' but after the frustrating 'training' on Sunday, she wants nothing better than to have a bitch-sesh with her friends... ...why do they seem so serious?

Notes:

No, nothing to do with Death Note (and don't expect a Death Note inspired chapter, either. DN's concept is boring to me and while it has it's fans nothing they've said or shown me has convinced me the show is at all within my sphere of interests). It's a reference to an old saying; "Johny One Note," meaning someone with only one predominant quality that defines their entire being. Quick note of thanks to jaaaaaasmin for spotting some misgendering of my own damn OC I did in Ch. 4. Which does remind me, I'm posting this straight form the AO3 'new chapter' box with no editor or pre-reader, so if you spot an obvious error like that, please let me know in the comments. 😊

Preview (as usual) below the cut:

The intervening classes between the rather unusual start of the day and lunch were all a blur of similar incidents. Ranma raising a hand to answer questions in class. Ranma getting a better grade than expected. Ranma taking serious notes and actually opening her textbooks.

His. Opening his textbooks.

Ukyo seemed to take the change in Ranma in stride, clearly just as in the dark about it as Akane but apparently more willing to simply roll with it. The aquatransexual and the okonomiyaki chef even got into an impromptu debate over some point in history about the Sengoku Period about whether Nobunaga would have succeeded in unifying Japan if he hadn't been betrayed by Mitsuhide, and it got heated enough the normally lenient history teacher even reigned them in a bit.

During the break between classes, Akane commented on it, "I didn't know you had that much of an interest in history, Ranma."

The redhead shrugged, "It's Warring States Period stuff. Lotta martial arts came out of that time period."

Hiroshi and Daisuke wandered over to socialize, "Man," complained Hiroshi, "Now I wish I'd paid more attention to the plot in Battle Girls: Time Paradox."

"Wouldn't've helped," smirked Daisuke, "The main character changes the course of events and Mitsuhide is convinced to not turn on Nobunaga. Lot of plot happens after that, which means you can't use it as an alternative to reading your textbook."

They laughed as Hiroshi groaned expressively.

"What's Battle Girls: Time Paradox?" asked Yuka, her and Sayuri leaning in from the row on the other side of Ukyo to join in.

Ranma snickered, "It's actually a really cool anime! Dai pointed out it's not exactly historically accurate, but a girl from modern times gets transported to an alternate timeline where it's only women, so all the historical figures are now really hot girls."

Daisuke and Hiroshi said in almost reverent, breathless unison, "Nobunaga..." Daisuke clarified why they were so in awe of the historical name as he held out his hands as though cupping a frankly gargantuan pair of breasts.

Ranma rolled her eyes, something Ukyo noticed. "Not a fan of girl-Nobunaga, Ranchan?" she asked.

"No, I am. She's a kick-ass martial artist that's destined to rule Japan in that timeline. I just don't care as much about how big her chest is 'cause if you made me as tall as her my rack'd be just as big. Aint that I don't appreciate the view," she shrugged, "But I know just how much of a challenge bein' a fighter is with a pair of meat sacks stuck to your chest is."

Hiroshi got on his knees in a pleading posture next to Ranma's desk, "Ranma-chan, I beg of you, please don't ruin the mystique of a glorious pair of breasts for me!"

Ranma rolled her eyes as Ukyo, Yuka, and Sayuri cackled and Daisuke just shook his head at his friend's antics. Before Akane could figure out what she was feeling about all this, the next teacher came in and everyone returned to their desks.

~~~

Read the rest on AO3

[lil228]

Red White and Royal Blue Notes Day 1

WARNING: Spoilers for both the Red White and Royal Blue movie and the book up to chapter 5

I think it’s funny that Alex’s love story is referred to as Shakespearean considering what’s to come. 

“It’s funny how you think everything is about you” (page 14). Lol- especially bc he’s the literal main character of this story.  

“Systematically drunk” (15) LOL

“Mutual antagonists” (17) 

“Sorry I’m not obsessed with you like everyone else” (18). Oh buddy that’ll change soon. (Alex about Henry)

OMG that whole conversation is so good!

Cakegate is really funny for some reason.

“As the president all I want is to have the CIA fake your death, and ride the dead kid sympathy into a second term.” (23) I see where Alex gets it from. 

The foreshadowing! Like Zarah telling Alex to gush about Henry like he’s his prom date.  

“I’ll do it but I won’t have any fun” (Alex) “God, I hope not.” (Zarah 27) HAH! Alex is going to have fun, maybe too much fun.

Look I know Alex thinks it’s nerdy but if someone told me Great Expectations was their favorite book I would like them even more. 

Ugh! the foreshadowing in this is just so good like when Nora speculate on why Alex has to sign an NDA and one of the reason she give is that he’s (the prince) is Gay. Lol (page 39)

Lol Alex being unable to decide if he Texan or Mexican side is more upset about English Breakfast (page 41)

Foreshadowing- Alex says Henry is “annoyingly attractive (43)

  I don’t know if being an English major broke me or if I’m a mega nerd, but I want to write a literary analysis paper on this so badly.  

Alex’s reasoning for wanting to get into politics is so wholesome (43)

Henry’s interaction with the caner patient is so cute (45)!

“You’re not the prince of me” (47). It’s just so good. Has this author written anything else? Please tell me they have. OMG they have! I will be needing all of their books now thank you very much.

“Are you trying to psycho analyzed me?” (49) lol, I feel like I say a variation of the this all the time when I’m with my psych major friend.

“I’m sensing an ellipsis (Henry) “It’s just…” (Alex) 51. This book sort of dose that thing that White Teeth did where it’s aware that it’s a novel, but it doesn't do it the same way. It’s more subtle and uses more irony.

 Okay Alex and Henry bonding over Star Wars is sweet and kind of nerdy. I like it. 

“But isn’t there something to be valued in a happy ending as well?” (52)

Alex taking a class called The Press and The Presidency is absolutely hilarious to me. 

That one commenter ships it (55)

“B*tch McConnell- I’m dying homygod 

Like Senator Luna, I to can be easily bribed with candy

More foreshadowing on 57. Also I don’t know why but I’m not getting good vibes from Senator Luna

Old money Sith powers also has me dying

The president of united states comparing her children to possums is so funny. 

Also her reminding her children to not discuss their murder plots in front of her

Ugh this book is so good! 

“Leeme romance the hell out of some focus groups” (66) This book is gold 

  The text exchange on 68-9 is amazing

I can only hope to write something this amazing one day.

Nora asking Alex if he’s reading fanfiction about himself made me laugh out loud- at work, granted it’s deader than Marley in this place today

The whole bit with the Turkey is just glorious! Ya did it to yourself Alex.

The way Henry talks to his dog is so cute, and so it the fact that he watches The Great British Bake Off 

Amy’s great!

Page 90- Yes Alex go off!

I love Bea, she’s great, peak sister energy

June is also peak sister energy. 

95- more foreshadowing when June talks about it being like a rom com

“You know I love chaos” (Nora)- 96

I think its really sweet that Henry wants to be a writer 

107- the first kiss! (Squeals)

[bardic-tales]

Alone in the Dark

Novel: Fall of Darth Jadus

Pairing: m!SI (Darth Jadus / Darth Notkis) x f!IA (Cipher Nine / Cynthia Prescost)

Fandom: Star Wars, The Old Republic

Word Count: 606

Warnings: implied child abuse, implied rape, au:canon divergent

Rating: Mature

Premise: Cynthia Prescost, an Imperial Agent who goes by the moniker Cipher Nine, confronts her lover, Darth Jadus. A secret is spilled out.

Source: Angst Prompt Generator

Tag List: @arrthurpendragon @perasperaadastrawriting @starryeyes2000

If you would like to to be on my tag list for notifications on my fan fiction, please let me know. If you wish to be taken off this taglist, feel free to tell me!

ALONE IN THE DARK

1.

“I was alone!” she howled at the Sith before her. “When I truly needed you, you disappeared! So, you don’t know what I have been through! You. Don’t. Know!”

“Cynthia, I know — ”

“You don’t know! How could you know what happened to me?!” She cut Darth Jadus off as she dug her fingernails into her palm. This trick worked to distract her when her parents locked her in her childhood bedroom when she was younger. Presently, it did nothing.

As he bent down, Jadus set a holopad on the table next to them. She was too irate to see that he was carefully examining holo-news or read the breaking headlines about an attack on the distant planet of Bespin. Authorities said none survived.

She trembled, the shaking barely discernible to the naked eye, but Jadus knew all her idiosyncrasies. He immediately knew something was wrong. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“I knew they would hurt me,” she cried out, sobbing as those memories took hold of her as they often did now, “but I never thought that they would do that. How could anyone predict they would do that?”

“No one could,” Jadus murmured, his voice no higher than a melodic purr. He wiped one of her tears away with his hand, the moisture leaving a spot behind on the ebony-colored clawed glove. “You have experienced one of the worst things that a person could endure. You don’t need my permission to mourn.

“And you need not fear a punishment for this outburst either, Cyn. You’re not the reason that happened, but you need to do whatever you can to heal from it. Even if that means you must leave me and be by yourself for a bit. I have no use for someone who’s broken.”

Although his words were harsh, there was a gentleness to them. Cynthia couldn’t fault his reasoning. In her current state, they were no closer to realizing his glorious empire than they were after fate reunited them.

I can’t even look at him without remembering what happened. This was not Jadus’ fault. If she were honest with herself, every man reminded her of those who captured her, those who took torture too far. He was only a stand in for the ones who took part in her abuse.

She breathed in and out. Her breaths fell rapidly on each other, and each stopped with a choked sob. As time passed, her anxiety rose until it reached its tipping point.

I can’t breathe, Cynthia panicked. Again, her air was cut off with a choked sob.

“Be at ease,” he tried to soothe her as he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. No amount of comfort would make it okay. “All who participated in such a plan will perish by my hand. I give you my word that they will not escape me.”

Although Imperial Intelligence was no more and Sith Intelligence rose to take its place, Jadus would hunt down all who were responsible for what happened over the skies of Corellia.

The Sith always reveled in the hunt. This time would be no different, and all of those she considered her friends were in danger from his never-ending rage.

I can’t allow him to figure out who was responsible. Shara was the one in most danger should he look into the plan that they all agreed to. He would murder the former Watcher Two and Keeper, but most importantly to Cynthia, one of her few friends.

[eelifnazfirat]

The Mist

Do you know that quiet girl who always reads in classes? Yes, I am her. But the quality that differentiates me from a huge part of the population is the way my imagination processes the things I read. My favorite genre is fantasy because I feel like it opens thousands of different portals with each novel. The problem starts here, a normal person goes on with their life after finishing a great book right? Well, I can’t. Most of the time I find myself spacing out, feeling the world slipping through my fingers. I wake up to a new reality, and even worse, I don’t know what to expect. Sometimes I find myself having a cup of tea with Percy Jackson, walking through the glorious halls of Hogwarts with Hermione Granger, trying to live a generous life with Peeta Mellark after being a victor in the Hunger Games, pulling off an impossible heist with the Crows, accompanying Cress Darnel in her endless exilation around the Luna…  It sounds nice, but it isn’t when you are trying to focus on something important. I mostly feel like I am not my body, my mind or my thoughts. Before you go, “Oh, you don’t have to be like everyone else.” I would like to remind you how humans react when they see something different. This is probably how racism, ableism, sexism, and tons of discriminative states of mind were created and I don’t expect people to understand me. These aren’t the only problems with me, I have an imaginary friend. Her name is Melinoe and she is the constant voice in my head. I named her. Melinoe is the Greek goddess of spirits and ghosts so I think it fits. (Did I mention my obsession with Greek Mythology?) The problem is, even when I want her to disappear she is always in the back of my mind and she is so unstable. She is my best friend but she can also destroy my self-confidence in seconds by whispering negative thoughts in my ear. I keep hearing and seeing things that aren’t real. I hear people whispering mean things about me every single time I walk through halls, order at restaurants or even when I am just trying to cross the road! I know those people aren’t talking about me, it’s a part of my visions but it succeeds to hurt me every time. I think all my imaginations are a coping mechanism. I used to deal with a lot of problems. (Mostly parents arguing and not being able to resolve anything without involving me in their issues, my mom kicking my dad out whenever she feels like it, my mothers monthly states of depression in which she refuses to cook and clean…) As you can guess my relationship with both of them is destroyed. I don’t have friends so my only activity is sitting in my room and opening the same magic portals over and over again while my lack of human communication keeps decreasing my ability to love myself, to get out of this state of mind that I can’t feel like I belong in my body. The worst part is, I have repeated this unhealthy pattern so many times that it became comforting. Do I feel like I hate myself? No problem! I will just blame it on Melinoe instead of seeking help because she's the one that whispers mean things in my ear anyways! I know this is wrong and quite pathetic but I never learned to deal with it healthily. Also, I can’t help but realize that I am the one holding myself back. Time and spirits whisper in my ear that I have to let them go but as always, I choose to ignore it, trying to save time before even they abandon me, leave me to suffer in this agonizing pain that keeps growing every time I realize how little time I have left with my comfort zone. Whatever I do, I can’t help but realize the mortality of time. I force myself to make my thoughts flow to text so I can amplify the emotions I am feeling. I am forcing myself on something that isn’t a pattern. I am preparing myself for the inevitable end. Only mortal time will tell what the ending will bring. Will I destroy myself before it gets to me or will it catch me unarmed and shatter me to the littlest bits?   

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Michael Shelley x Gn!Reader

Read as a statement. Italics are Jon, and regular is You! Gender Neutral, congrats you are married, have graduated uni, and live in England. Statement given around mag 140. I’m going with the descriptions given on Fandom Wiki for Michael, and the classic interpretation of Helen (since she has no canon description).

Warnings! Intense language, traumatic experiences, major character loss, some almost sexual themes but no smut. Pretty much just PG-13 except for language and some monsterfucking elements. READER HAS SEMI BISEXUAL TENDENCIES (you get both distortions for the price of one!) Also, what's a timeline, never heard of her? So just general timeline fucking up for the sake of some fluff and angst. Mentions of religion and praying (kinda worshiping the spiral a la Manuela)! Drug mentions. Also, violence against Elias, but who cares! Some artistic liberties taken when it comes to a lot of things. I’ve never been to the UK so some stuff might be wrong. Technically unintentional spousal abuse, (gaslight gatekeep girlboss) plus technically kidnapping? Plus the reader is a bit mean to Jon. Also my friend proofread this and said it reminded her of twilight a bit so I hate that but I wanna post it anyway. I hate that I took unintentional inspiration from twilight but here we are anyway.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

Quick taglist @decora-peaches , @swordsandfools, sorry gang I'm a fool who needed the confidence to post this and its been quite a bit since I promised to post this.

Helen has decided to try to buy our friendship again, as she has brought me a statement. Where she got it from I have no idea, but I feel the need to record it. Anyway, Statement of (y/n) Shelley, regarding their life and experiences with their husband... Michael. Date written, unknown. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I'd like to first say that I hate your Archive and everything you stand for. You took the man I love from me twice and I despise you all for it, but Helen asked for it and I cannot deny her anything. So here is my statement, and I hope you choke on it.

I met Michael Shelley in our first year in University. We were in a maths class together. We had finals coming up and a handful of our classmates wanted to meet up at the south library to practice together later in the day. The study session ran extremely late, and it was dark when I left the building. He must have seen my hesitance and offered to walk me back to my dorm, and I guess we hit it off.

We went out quite a lot, and he was so sweet and always listened to what I had to say. He was occasionally forgetful, but he never made me feel like I was

Michael always had this… obsession with the unnatural. He told me what happened to his friend when he was a child, and I believed him well enough. I didn't believe in ghosts or ghouls or any of that lot, but he did. Michael heard that the Magnus Institute was hiring, and before I knew it he had dropped out and started working there full time. I was surprised, but honestly I didn’t think much of it at the time because he was so happy to have that damn job.

My parents were... not thrilled with Michael. To them, he was too quiet and, as you know, working for the Magnus Institute isn't the most glorious or well paying job, and my parents were worried that he was crazy. To be honest, he wasn't all there when I was with him, he always seemed to be a world away. But that didn't matter to me. He was mine, and we loved each other.

He proposed at my graduation, and we got married a few months later. The wedding was a small thing, his parents didn't come and mine showed up begrudgingly, so it was mostly just a few friends and his two of his coworkers that showed up in the end. Michael was so damn happy to see Emma and Eric. Eric even brought his little boy with him. It was the happiest day of our lives, I don’t think I ever saw Michael smile as much as he had that day.

We had a small apartment right between our workplaces. It was a bit of a trip for both of us, but I don't think either of us minded. He went on a few trips for the institute, so when he told me he was going north with Gertrude I didn’t see anything the matter with it. I helped him pack some warm clothes, and we had dinner before he left. Nothing… Nothing seemed wrong at first. I was used to him not being able to talk when he was on his trips, but after 3 weeks of silence went by I was scared. I got the letter the next day. “The Magnus Institute regrets to inform you that Michael Shelley has passed away. Our deepest condolences, Elias Bouchard.”

I went to the institute to get answers, storming my way into Elias’s office. He didn't even have the kindness to look shocked or even the slightest bit remorseful. Didn’t say shit about it either, just that he was dead. I asked about his body, if there was anything that could be buried or just anything about what happened. He just… stared at me, just saying that Michael was dead and that the institute was sorry.

I don’t remember much about what happened next, but I remember feeling his weasley little neck in my hands as I tried to squeeze the answers out of him. Security pulled me away and when he caught his breath he told me he wouldn’t press charges, but that I had to leave and not come back. As I was escorted out of the building, I saw Gertrude and Emma staring at me with those blank eyes. I begged her to tell me anything about Michael, anything at all and that I knew she was with him on that trip. Nothing made her react at all, but I swear she flinched when I asked if she killed him. I don’t know how I got home that day.

I prayed that day. I prayed that the institute was wrong, that Michael was alive, that this was just a sick fucking joke. But it wasn't, and I had to bury an empty box alone a few days later. Work gave me a few weeks off that were spent practically catatonic in our bed. People came by, friends, my parents, but they couldn’t bring him back to me or fill the empty hole that was left in my life. It's strange, you never realize how dependent you are on a person until they suddenly leave, no warning. It’s like a crutch being kicked out from under a missing limb, but you never stop falling.

But you don’t deserve my grief, my sadness, you already know what you did. You don’t want to know about my Michael, you want to know about the Michael you created. For Helen I will indulge you. I first saw the yellow door about three months after he passed. I was grieving, and that makes us so much more foolish. I had been walking home after work and I was lost in my own head, taking turns and alleys I hadn't ever seen before. I think I was around Westminster when it happened. Some men had tried to grab my purse, and I ran.

I heard their footsteps following me as I ran through the small, dark alleys, my shoes smacked against the slippery cobblestone and I was so afraid. I was ahead of them by a bit, and I started banging on doors, begging for someone to help me, but no one answered. No lights were on in any of the homes and I felt my heart hammering in my throat threatening to escape. Then I saw it, fused into a cobblestone fence. A bright yellow door at the end of the alley, just barely opened so a sliver of light peaked through. I ran towards it, running through it before slamming the door behind me. I never heard anything from the other side of the door.

When the adrenaline died off I noticed the hallway. The walls were an obnoxious mix of beige and yellow. There were these mirrors in the hallway, kind of like the mirrors at carnivals that distort your body and make you look different. Everything hurt to look at, and the lights were so bright I was getting a migraine. The place made me feel like I was on a LSD trip. That wasn't even the strangest thing though. In my peripheral vision I kept seeing… something. It only appeared where I couldn't focus on it. I tried to go back to the door I came from, but It wouldn't budge, and I never got a clear view of what was there so I started walking. After a few minutes of the endless nauseating hallways I saw another door.

I don't know what I expected when I opened the door, maybe more weird hallways, but never in a million years did I expect it to be my own apartment on the other side. I was frozen in place, shocked and so, so afraid when I felt something grip my shoulder strongly, jerking me forward and into my bedroom before the yellow door slammed shut with a bang. And when I looked back there was no door.

I told myself I was hallucinating. That something was wrong and it was all just a bad dream. I spent the whole night convincing myself I was going mental. Lying to myself worked, and I was so close to believing it when I saw the bruise on my skin under where I was shoved. Some part of that night had to have been true, I had no fucking clue what really happened.

Looking back it was so stupid of me. So fucking stupid but I needed to know what the hell happened that night. I started looking for danger, going into darker areas later in the night. I walked around with fake jewelry that looked nice enough from far away to entice some lowlife thief. I got robbed twice, got a few scrapes and bruises but the door didn’t show up again. Kept telling myself it was grief, maybe some disorder or another that stemmed from that first night.

I don't know how it was different from that night, but maybe it knew they wouldn't have hurt me too bad, so the door left me to my own devices, or maybe I’m just insane..

I wasn't expecting a door when I saw it next. There had been a break-in near my work, and a police officer came by to ask us some questions. The officer was this real brute of a man, tall enough that he had to duck to get into the shop. I don’t remember his name, but I didn't like the look of him. Of course I answered the questions, but the officer just started getting closer and closer. I was scared and closed my eyes for just a second, and when I opened them the yellow door was to my right, where a window was supposed to be. I bolted straight into the door, I don't even know if the officer followed me. But the door opened and the nauseating hallway was there again.

When I heard the door latch I took a moment to breathe. The strange figure appeared in my peripherals again, always disappearing when I tried to focus on it. I called out to it, asking where I was and what was going on. Looking down the hallway I saw something tap the mirror, like it was poking it from inside. I moved closer until I saw the horrible hand gripping the inside of the mirror. They weren't hands, hands don't have that many bones, hands aren't that long or sharp but… there they were. I didn’t even realize I was standing in front of it until I felt that strange weight on my shoulder again. I turned around quickly but nothing was there, and turning around I almost screamed. My reflection was there, but it wasn't alone. Whatever was connected to those claws resting on my shoulders looked almost like Michael. I could feel the weight on my shoulders, but the thing with Michael’s face was only in the mirror.

Michael wasn't originally a tall man, but now he almost had to bend over to fit his entire frame in the mirror. Michael didn't have hands like that, Michael’s smile was never that large, and most importantly, Michael wasn't alive. But here stood the thing that was and wasn't my husband. But when he said hello I just broke down. I told him everything and begged him to stay by my side. He said he had left, but that which both is and isn't him has been here. He said he would stay, and I said that I loved him. I don’t think he loved me, not the… the new version of him. I don't even think he had any emotions left at the end. I think there was just enough Michael to remember me.

I knew he wasn't exactly like my Michael, but he was close enough to make me happy. I knew he was hurting people, the hallways weren’t silent, and I heard screaming occasionally. There were a lot of mirrors in his doors, and sometimes I saw faces in them, real normal faces. I wanted him back, even as he had become he was still my Michael.

His door was in our… my apartment some days. Oftentimes it wouldn't even open, but it was just a comforting presence. His door, his shenanigans, it all just became my new life. He wasn't Michael, but he was enough like him to make the grief go away. If I fooled myself enough it almost felt normal again, like when we were first married. He didn't speak much, he just came and went like a house cat. I would speak to him, or at least his door when I was particularly lonely.

There were times he acted like his old self. Some days he would go through the motions of making coffee, only to stare at it in distaste before he disappeared.

I would see him standing in our apartment, just staring at a wall or going through one of his old routines. Some nights I would wake up to see him staring at me from the foot of our bed. I even found some of his gold hair on his pillow again. We lived that way for around seven years. In that time, nothing really changed, we just inhabited the same area. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than living without him, so I didn't mind.

A few months before he disappeared, again, he came back with blood on his hands. I tried to ask what happened, but all he would say was that he “poked the eye”, and I assume that means it's your lot. He seemed so pleased with himself so I didn't ask any more questions. That's when things got bad again.

I didn't see him for a few weeks, and I was worried, not even his door was here. I was so afraid he was gone again, and I worried I was insane again. I prayed, not to God this time, no, I prayed to the hallways and the ever changing fractals. I prayed to the spiral Michael mentioned. I offered worship and my love in exchange for any part of my lover back. And this time someone answered.

There was a figure in my room again, but it wasn't Michael. It was a woman I came to know as Helen. She was around the same height as my new Michael, and her voice was just as disorienting and alluring as my husband. I had to mourn Michael twice, but Helen filled in the gaps he left very well. Helen didn't know much about me, only that she felt pulled towards me, but she was determined to learn.

Helen tried to be a person more than Michael did at the end. Michael would never stay long, but Helen would spend hours in our apartment, just sitting or watching me. I would see her doors throughout my day, always in the most impossible places. She told me once it was just to see me smile, can you believe that? Michael did the same thing, and I adore her for this kindness. She is such a kind presence, and I care for her.

It's strange, in another life I think I could love her the way I love Michael. But this is not the life we are in, and my heart belongs to Michael. You took him from me, and I will never forgive you for that, your eyes will be blind one day and you will be left with nothing, just like me.

Statement… ends. Helen, why did she give this to me. What does this mean? I asked Elias, and apparently some of this is verified. Michael did pass away at this time, and he was married to one Mx. (Y/N) Shelley. I have elected not to reach out to their family, as if this is true, then reaching out would only end poorly. I… I need to talk to Helen.

[abduct-me-helen]

r/legaladvice

Posted by u/ebouchard 2 months ago

My husband has embarrassed me at the annual institute holiday party for the last time. I want another divorce.

My husband, soon to be ex-husband if all goes as planned, was leering at an archival assistant the other day. He also had a bit too much to drink, and started talking about various…personal activities that I would’ve preferred be undisclosed. Now, I’ve divorced him before, but this time he seems fit to antagonize me and not sign the papers. Not just that, but he’s also disappeared, which isn’t uncommon but is still frustrating when I’m trying to divorce him. He always gets in a hissy fit when I divorce him, but this time he’s just being petty.

Is there a way to divorce him without needing to track him down in order to have him sign the papers? He’s the captain of a ship and when he gets…petulant, he often sails for a few months before returning to his moorhouse. During these times, it’s notoriously hard to contact him, much less find him.

tl;dr: my husband ran away in an attempt to be petty and now I can’t divorce him. What do I do?

Edit: Please stop making remarks on the healthiness of our relationship. It’s none of your business, and we are perfectly fine.

Edit: We got divorced again since I made the first post.

Edit: We are now remarried again.

 crawbed008 3.1k points · 2 weeks ago

    | He always gets in a hissy fit when I divorce him, but this time he’s just being petty.

wait, what do you mean by “always”??

     ebouchard 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

             whenever I try to divorce him, he acts petulant.

                  sisenore_k 675 points · 2 weeks ago

                          do you divorce him often lmao???

                                    ebouchard 1.2k points · 2 weeks ago

                                        yes.

                          [expand]

getsome_69 352 points · 1 week ago

            op how many times have you two gotten divorced so far

                 ebouchard 2.1k points · 2 weeks ago

                       six, though there were a few we didn’t go through on legally.

                              kokobura2 126 points · 2 weeks ago

                                        SIX??? good god op why do you even keep remarrying

                                              ebouchard 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

                                                      money.

                                           stonks 782 points · 2 weeks ago

i know op in rl and the real reason is that they’re the    

only people willing to put up with each other

                                                                                   [expand]

r/relationship_advice

Posted by u/bigboyman 1 month ago

I (48M) feel like my husband is very clingy and I’m a person who needs solitude to survive. What should I do?

My husband is always talking to me. I just want to be left alone, but he just keeps on scheming. He’s always ranting about hiding tapes and the watcher’s crown and it is getting tedious having to listen to his, well, words in general.

How should I ask for more space?

 poorandtiredbutyolo 2.2k points · 2 weeks ago

I have a clingy partner too, and what I do is set clear boundaries. I also make sure to set time towards my partner outside of those times when I’m alone, like having dinner every night and having movie/games night once a week.

      bigboyman 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

           I interact with him far less already then I would if I did that.

                   asunachan3 203 points · 2 weeks ago

                        how much do you talk to him?                                   

                                     bigboyman 1.5k points · 2 weeks ago

                                               at least once every three months

asunachan3 203 points · 2 weeks ago

                                                                   and you’re MARRIED?!???

                                                                            bigboyman 1.2k points · 2 weeks ago

I know, it’s a lot. You see why I can’t stand him being so clingy?

[expand]

 tania9 421 points · 2 weeks ago

    from reading the replies, I can only assume you hate your husband.

                bigboyman 1k points · 2 weeks ago

                                despise, actually.

 [expand]

Pastasauceandspagett 608 points · 1 month ago

      I don’t know how OP could possibly salvage this relationship if they hate each other and only talk every three months.

bigboyman 4.2k points · 1 week ago

                                The wedding is in four days.

 Allicecarter2002 4.2k points · 1 week ago

                               I thought you were already married??

                                                                      bigboyman 4.2k points · 1 week ago

oh, we got divorced about a week after I made the post and then he proposed again a week after that.

                                                                                                 [expand]

 r/pettyrevenge

Posted by u/notjonnydville 3 weeks ago

I had my archival assistants spit in his tea.

My boss is a huge bastard. He is just, awful. He always looks like you’re amusing him but in that kind of way where he’s looking like you like a meal. He is just a horrible human being. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed someone. That’s the kind of person he is.

Anyway, I usually try to keep a professional relationship with my assistants but a few nights ago they invited me to go out for drinks with them and my friend blackmailed me into it. We got hammered. It was a truly…special experience. Ever since then, I’ve been on better terms with them. We even have a groupchat.

The situation goes like this: he’s been ranting to me for the last hour about things I ALREADY KNOW in that pompous, annoying voice of his. Anyway, I texted one of my assistants, I’ll call him M, and M comes in mid rant. I very sternly ask “why haven’t you made [our boss’s name, I’ll refer to him as E] tea yet?”

I kind of put him on the spot and he just stayed there with his jaw dropped. I told him to go make E a cup of tea, so he scurries out.

I wait about 30 seconds and then discretely text the groupchat: “spit in his tea M.”

Anyway, they go absolutely *ballistic* and T, another one of my assistants, sprints halfway across the building (I hear he even knocked into our secretary), just to spit in E’s tea too. My last assistant is a bit wearier but she does it too.

M comes back with the tea and hands it to E before quickly leaving. A few minutes pass and E still hasn’t touched his tea.

So I remind him that M makes very good tea and he’d be disappointed if E didn’t drink it.

There is a quiet battle of wills.

Now, I don’t know how to put this without sounding insane, but our boss…he just *knows* things. He’s psychic, or something like that. There is absolutely NO way he didn’t know the tea was messed with. He knows, he knows I know, and we silently stare at each other without moving.

Finally, *finally*, still making direct eye contact with me, he takes a sip of his tea and purses his lips. I ask him if he isn’t thirsty.

He says he isn’t, and leaves the room. I never did find out what happened to that tea.

tl;dr: I got my archival assistants to spit in my asshole bosses’ tea. It was glorious.

leavemealone 2k points · 2 weeks ago

    holy *shit*, OP, did you ever get in trouble????

           notjonnydville 2.1k points · 2 weeks ago

                   he didn’t have any evidence, so no.

maya_herse331 782 points · 1 week

    did he ever try to get revenge?

           notjonnydville 7.1k points · 2 weeks ago

                   he framed me for murder, but I’m still not sure if that was directly related.

                  [expand]

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

[maraudersftw]

hi claudia! if you're accepting prompts, I'd love to see your take on either 'james thinks they're fake dating but they're actually really dating' or 'james isn't even aware that they're dating' because I really like an oblivious!james 😂

Hi, beautiful! This is such a classic prompt, and I had a blast writing for it. Combined both your options to put together something that reeks of obliviousness. Hope you enjoy!

Oblivious

Read on: AO3 || FFN

He's quite ashamed of the high-pitched yelp that leaves his lips, it's true.

But James doesn't think there's any other reaction to be expected when one finds oneself unceremoniously shoved against the wall of an empty alcove. The surprise only mounts at the feeling of a body, soft and warm, pressing against the front of his chest and stomach and lower, but dissolves when he registers the familiar feel of it. Of her.

"Evans," he groans, one hand unconsciously tangling in the length of her long, thick hair. "What—"

But she doesn't tell him what; the flash of a lethal smirk and dancing green eyes are all he's allowed to witness before she's got her lips on his, got her tongue prying his mouth open, her hands running through his hair and rumpling his uniform shirt without care.

James finds he doesn't care much for decorum himself.

"Merlin—" he kisses her back, brows scrunching at how easily everything about her overwhelms him, even when she's barely trying. The sweet smell of her, the way she pulls in breath, tugs at his lower lip, all of it magic more real than he's known. He tries to pull away, head muddled with some strange cloud of intoxication. "Fuck, Evans, I can't—"

"Are you sure?" She grins wickedly, pressing closer and leaving no room for doubt that she feels him, feels his eagerness. "Looks to me like you really can."

He strokes a thumb over her jaw, resistance waning already. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Uh oh." Lily leans back slightly, one eyebrow cocked even as she smiles easily. "That sounds ominous."

James's heart thumps, already against the idea, but he knows he has to do this now. It's been three months since he'd first found himself on the other end of Lily's glorious, wandering hands after she'd told sixth year Gryffindor, Jonathan Jenkins, that she was dating James when he'd refused to leave her alone despite multiple refusals. And though that first kiss had been quick and chaste, with a profuse apology from her right after Jenkins had left the common room in a huff, things had spiralled out of control. They hadn't expected Jenkins to be such a fucking gossip, and by the end of the day, the news that James Potter and Lily Evans were dating had penetrated ears everywhere in the castle.

When Lily had asked him to play along for a bit until there was no more danger of Jenkins hounding her like a wolf, she'd thought he'd been doing her a favour.

If he'd been a normal friend and not secretly in love with her, James supposes it would've been a favour.

But now—three months down the line—he's gotten greedier. He no longer just wants Lily to keep snogging him. He wants her fully, publicly; no pretences.

Typical of him to want to ruin the one good thing he has with her now, after seven years of struggle.

"Hello?" Lily pulls at his tie, jerking him out of his thoughts. She's still smiling, though a concerned light has entered her eyes now. "Rather cruel of you to keep me hanging here with such dreaded anticipation."

He's forgotten words. "Um."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

James looks up and away at the sound of that voice, finding Sirius sauntering down the corridor, the Marauder's Map in his hands. Lily pulls away a bit at his appearance, but her palm stays firmly planted against James's stomach. "'lo, Sirius."

"You're bloody late for Transfiguration," he accuses, grey eyes narrowed, and James is finally reminded of the reason he'd been walking down this shortcut in the first place. "Thought I'd come find you two, given that neither of you can be counted upon to keep your head on straight these days."

"We've no reason to." Lily shrugs, grinning. "Head duties."

"It's McGonagall."

"She likes us," James supplies.

"Fucking unfair," Sirius grumbles, pocketing the parchment as he walks away. "You're just as bad as Prongs, Evans. Worse!"

Lily laughs at his disappearing form before turning back to him. "Reckon he might be right."

James inhales, misery eating his insides. "Lily, I—I can't do this anymore."

It takes a few seconds, but then her smile falls, brows stitch together, hands dropping. "Can't do this? What—what do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?"

"No!" His hand jumps to his hair, heart instantly loathing the upset look on her face he's brought on. "I mean, I can't break up with you if we were never together anyway."

But Lily's frown only deepens at that. "James, what—" she shakes her head. "What the bloody hell are you saying?"

"That this is too difficult! All this confusion and pretending to be with you when I know none of it's real—when I know what I feel is real. I'm just—" he stops, insides twisting together. "I'm sorry, okay? I like you too much to keep this going. I thought I could've been happy with pretending to be your boyfriend, but I'm not. Not anymore."

"Now hold on a fucking second!" Lily reels back, eyes so wide and shocked that it gives him pause. "What do you mean by pretending to be my boyfriend? You are my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, but not really."

"James." She slams him back against the wall, hand on his chest almost angry in its force. "What the hell are you saying? I asked you out last week. In the Great Hall?"

"That was—" he's shaking his head, dismissal ready on the tip of his tongue, when the scene repays in his mind. Lily had stopped him mid-meal with a squeeze on his arm and asked him if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade with her this month. And though there had been a new shyness to her expression then, James had assumed it'd been for the benefit of their friends, who couldn't stop grinning and laughing and talking about turned tables. "That was...real?"

Her jaw has unhinged, disbelief shining clear in her eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me? So, you've been thinking we were pretend-dating all this time?" He stays silent. "Oh my God, James. Why the hell would I be accosting you in hallways and snogging you, then?"

"Because...I'm a good kisser?"

Lily takes two steps back, shakes her head again. "Hang on, are we back in 1975? Is this fifth year?"

But James laughs, relief and euphoria mixing together to create a massive wave of emotion that has him reaching forward and pulling her back to him. His fingers grip her neck, her hip, and he ghosts his lips over the flush of her cheeks. "I've been going out with Lily Evans for a week."

"I don't think that counts anymore."

"Shh." He grins into her skin. "Don't ruin the moment."

"I'm ruining it? When you're the one who—" Her complaints die out against his mouth with his strategically placed kiss, which James figures he's allowed to do now, given that he's her boyfriend and all that. Lily stops for a beat to huff the words out. "Two minutes. Then Transfiguration."

"You're brilliant."

"You're a tosser."

[ivelovedhimthroughworse]

Get To Know Me

Thanks for the tags: @nausikaaa, @captain-aralias, @raenestee, @angelsfalling16, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @aristocratic-otter, @bookish-bogwitch and @fight-surrender

Relationship Status:

Happily in a relationship with someone I've known for more than half my life. We were friends for six or seven years, maybe, before having our "something to talk about" epiphany. 

Favorite Colour: 

Red. (For clothes and possessions)

Favorite food:

I used to be a butter and cheese enthusiast, but sadly, no longer. 

So my favorite food is bread. Fresh, fluffy, yeasty, yum. And dark chocolate. 

Chocolate chip cookies (made with dark chocolate and margarine) are my favorite dessert. 

Song stuck in your head:

There's a song called "Whispers of the Heart" that's been haunting me nonstop for three days. I think it has the lyrics, "country roads, take me home".

Why is this in my head? Remember @foolofabookwyrm-activated made the top tier Rick Roll playlist? There was an orchestral version by Vitamin String Quartet. I was up late on Saturday night editing my chapter and thought I'd check out more of their instrumental pop covers. The last song before I went to bed was Whispers of the Heart and my brain got stuck on loop and I fell asleep with it and woke up with it and here we are today, despite the fact that I only know maybe eleven words of the lyrics. 

Someone in my house is singing Sink the Bismark, so that may dislodge and become the new earworm winner (Please please please).

Last thing you googled:

Lyrics to Sink the Bismarck by Johnny Horton

Lots of Victorian period photographs and engraving for COTTA, including but not limited to period ladies' glasses, ladies' hairstyles for curly hair, cross-dressing and long hair for men

Time:

16:04pm

Dream trip:

Costa Rica. Especially for a tree top adventure. Or hang gliding. 

Last book you read:

Sharkmartini's fanfic series On the Relativity of Time. Okay, it's not the last book, but I read this and love it and just keep thinking about it.

Last book you enjoyed:

I enjoyed rereading Boyfriend Material to get ready for the release of Husband Material. I think I liked it better this time than the first time. 

Last book I hated reading:

I didn't hate it, but I rolled my eyes a lot through Dangerous Alliance: An Austentacious Romance  by Jennieke Cohen. It seemed every chapter had this same sentence, "She bit her lip." Although occasionally she bit the inside of her cheek. But I kept reading anyway and tried to figure out what made the phrase so jarring and how this author could have rephrased it to be less repetitive.

Favorite thing to cook/bake:

I love cooking and baking. Right now I'm learning a lot about vegetarian cooking. One major difference is that you need a lot more spice and aromatics to make up for the loss of meat flavour. My spice cabinet is getting more interesting.

Favorite craft to do in free time:

I doodle. All the time and everywhere. Pencil and pen doodles cover the margins of my notebooks and bills and any scrap paper. As a hobby, I like painting. I'm handy with most types of crafts. And when the temperature drops I like to have a knitting project to keep my hands busy. 

Most niche dislikes:

Blerg. I must have some. I'm sure I thought of one. What was it? 

Is it niche to get mad at people who are not celiacs and want to cut bread out because someone told them that it will solve every health problem? Bread is glorious. I'll never let you say mean words about my good friend, bread.

Opinion on circuses, now and in history:

If I'm going to spend my money, it's not going to be on a circus. I'd rather go to see live music, or watch a play or musical. I'd enjoy a drag show or maybe burlesque. I'd even take the opera or ballet before the circus.

Circuses in history have been abusive to animals. Who's going to have a positive opinion about that?

Do you have a sense of direction, and if not what is the worst way you’ve gotten lost: 

I've got a fairly good sense of direction. I like maps, but not so much GPS. If I use GPS directions then my brain stops making a mental map. I've gotten lost mostly because I tire of taking the same route and will mix things up at random.

Most of the time I enjoy getting lost, so I had to really think of a worst time. Okay, once I was driving to my aunt's cottage and everyone else in the car was sleeping so I decided to get off the highway and take a scenic route. I got hopelessly lost and was out of cell range. I made it there more than an hour late and tired and frazzled while the other car occupants were refreshed and ready to go. Ugh. 

Tagging in some creative folks: @stardustasincocaine @ic3-que3n @takitalks @nick-eyre @cynopoe @stillmadaboutpetra @urban-sith

[awesomerextyphoon]

I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).

***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***

Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy! 

His Match

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader 

Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule  of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?

Word Count: 1,745

Rating: 18+/Mature

Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence

A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!

Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.

She was a vision.

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.

He had to follow her. His Elskan.

“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”

–––––

He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.

Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.

Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.

They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.

Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.

Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.

Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.

He was fuming within two minutes.

How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.

And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.

Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.

Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.

He just had to make her see it that way.

Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.

He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.

––––––

You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.

Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.

You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.

“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.

You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.

It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.

“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”

“Thank you, um…”

“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”

“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”

And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.

You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.

You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.

Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.

–––––

You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.

No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.

“What is this place?”

You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.

No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-

“Loki!”

Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.

“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”

He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.

“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”

“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.

Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.

Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.

You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”

For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.

“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.

You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.

You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.

Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.

You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

–––––––

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