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cleo-fox · 6 months ago

Text

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

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

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was.

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why.

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist.

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.”

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet.

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.”

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him.

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly.

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it.

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway.

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching.

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer.

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana.

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other.

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him.

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

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

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corvidcrossbow · 5 months ago

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Since I made a post about Mother's Day w/ Daryl, I gotta make a Father's Day one too.

For obvious reasons, he didn't like Father's Day (me neither Daryl). It felt insulting to see people celebrating their dads, felt so forced and unfair, stupid even. How come other people got to have fathers who were there for them and cared for them while he didn't? What made him undeserving of that? (Mother's Day was already hard enough when he was young, sitting in class and nearly trembling from how hard he was straining himself to not cry while those around him made cards and talked about their plans for the weekend with their moms) So he tried to push the existence of the holiday out of his mind.

Fatherhood was never something he pictured. Even when the hypothetical idea of kids crossed his mind, he was sure it would never be plausible: he'd just follow footsteps and end up some doped up abusive deadbeat as well. Although he never pictured an apocalypse with the undead either, and that pushed the idea of fatherhood even further into a realm of impossibility.

So both those happening, and someone as perfect as you being directly involved in it, was leagues outside his imagination.

The first Father's Day after your child was born was rough. He enjoyed how the collapse of society made people lose track of the dates, too occupied with survival to care about minor things like this. But with the stability Alexandria provided, over time celebrations reintegrated into routines, this included, and he was not fond of the reminder.

He didn't mention the day at all leading up to it, or of, continuing his ignorance and hoping it'd slip your mind. He knew it wouldn't: you were too attentive and appreciative of him to miss any excuse to celebrate and congratulate him no matter the context.

But you threaded lightly, knowing it'd be touchy and let most the day pass by as any other would, just being extra sweet on him. You never wished him a ‘Happy Father's Day’, instead when you were going to bed that night thanking him for being a father, for everything he did for you and your daughter and how good he was at it.

He ended up just breaking down, falling apart in your hold and attempting to bury himself in you the same way he tried to bury so much else.

The next couple years were largely similar; little acknowledgement to the day, but extra acknowledgements to him. It was your daughter that started to make it more distinctive. A little older now, she saw the other kids in the community making little gifts and cards for their fathers the same way they did for mothers on the respective day. Even those who didn't have dads made them in memoriam.

So of course she did it too, she loved her daddy and did those things all the time anyway. Why not do it when it's even more special? She didn't even tell you about it, secretly assembling it all herself.

You shared Daryl's surprise when she presented her crafts, repeatedly saying the token phrase you'd held off from using. He was mostly frozen for a moment, trying to just see her and this singular day rather than previous decades of Father's Day's that came before, all negatively tinted and crossed out from his personal calendar.

He accepted it all, and her innocent recognition of the holiday's purpose. Though the urge flared up in some part of him, he couldn't shut her down. She meant well, and wasn't to blame for his rocky relationship with the day and his own father. He wouldn't create reason for her to despise the holiday too, and how could be cold to the human embodiment of sunshine while her toothy smile was beaming at him?

He put her to bed that evening, spending an extra while stroking her hair and admiring how peaceful she looked while sleeping. Despite the state of the world, she had the privilege to not only sleep, but feel safe while doing so. And he's what allowed that; gave her that.

She got to feel safe from all the horrors he'd seen: the walkers, blood, guts, violence, death, immorality, all the disturbing things about life that were amplified by the apocalypse.

But more importantly, she felt safe with him.

She got to excitedly jump on him while he was still asleep in the morning, roll around and shake him till he finally got up. She got to play with him in the dirt while out in the yard, or sit him down with jewelry and accessories surrounded by stuffed animals and toy dinnerware. She got to chase him around and bombard him with curious questions and learn everything she could from him.

She got to make messes and break things, make mistakes, and know he'd always help her clean or fix them.

She got to show her emotions and be a kid and cry, and know he would always hold and soothe her, wipe away her tears and do anything to make sure she was okay.

And she never knew a different response. She never knew the yelling or insults, the degradation, the mockery, the beatings and burnings and whippings. She got to fall asleep by her father's side, lulled to rest by his comforting voice, be in the most vulnerable state a person could be, and know that the last thing he would ever do was hurt her; the idea – the worry – of him hurting her did not exist in her mind.

Daryl'd crumbled to tears by the time he returned to you that night, collapsing into your arms the way he did every time the reality of being a parent hit him. He would never truly understand how he got to this point in life, how every unfathomable thing – good and bad – had genuinely occurred and this is what was real.

From the instant you found out you were pregnant, he'd promised you, promised himself, and promised his child he would always be the father he'd wanted, that he'd deserved, that his kid deserved and that every child deserves. He healed his own childhood by assuring his daughter'd have a good one, and that he'd be regarded as a good part of it.

She made Father's Day something that could actually be ‘happy’ for him.

The daddy issues hit a little too hard while writing this

I fr don't know where the last week of my life went I just remember watching Lost 🗿

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anikaluv · 1 year ago

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I'LL ACCEPT YOU —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!42) × fem!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff

❤︎︎ cw: suggestive, nudes, Mrs. Morales a lil mean to reader at first (motherly instinct at its finest)

❤︎︎ summary: You were at the dinner table, meeting Miles' mom for the first time, when he excused himself to use the bathroom. As you sat there you noticed a polaroid picture of your breasts on the phone case that Miles had left behind. Now, you had to figure out how to explain this unexpected and embarrassing situation to his mother.

❤︎︎ w/c: 2.1k

❤︎︎ a/n: Everyone describes about how you and Rio would be best friends, but ion know, I feel like she’ll be a little skeptical about you like she was with Gwen in the movie. It's her little boy we’re talking about here. <3

Today was the day you finally met Miles' mother, the most important person in his life.

You wished you could have met her sooner, but her demanding schedule at the hospital made it impossible until now, after seven months of dating Miles. You had plenty of time to think about what to say and do, but it didn't stop the nerves from fluttering in your stomach.

"Baby, you'll be fine," Miles reassured you, rubbing your back affectionately. He knew how much meeting his mother weighed on your mind, but he had no doubt that the two of you would get along. As he rang the doorbell, he placed his hand on your waist. "She'll love you, promise."

Though you nodded in response to his kind words, your mind still raced with anxiety. You understood the importance of this dinner and were determined not to mess things up. Your hands started to rub against your jeans, becoming sweaty from the nervousness.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Mrs. Morales herself, wearing a kitchen apron around her waist. She immediately looked towards Miles, speaking as if you weren't there. "Miles! What's taken you so long to come home? You know you can't-" It was then she finally realized your presence.

She paused mid-sentence, turning her attention to you, giving you a quick up-and-down glance that made you feel insecure about your outfit choice. You knew you should’ve went with the sweater instead of this stupid T-Shirt. "Oh? Hello there, who are you?" she inquired.

Feeling put on the spot, you started to mumble a small introduction, but she asked you to repeat yourself. Before you could gather your thoughts, Miles came to your rescue. "Mamá, este es mi pareja, [your name]” (Mom, this is my lover, [your name] ). Even after Miles introduced you, you could sense that Rio was still on guard, her protective instincts clearly showing proudly.

You held up the little vase of flowers you had bought as a gift for her, feeling a bit on edge as you offered it to her. She took it with a skeptical look in her eyes. " [Your name], it's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Morales," you greeted her politely, extending your hand for a handshake. However, she merely stared at your hand and didn't reciprocate the gesture. Instead, she spoke with a hint of disdain, "Charmed to meet you," leaving you feeling a little embarrassed as you withdrew your hand.

Miles chuckled uncomfortably at the situation and attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Mama! I can smell something from the kitchen all the way from here! Is dinner ready?”, he said, acknowledging the delicious aroma of the food. Like a switch, Rio turned to her son with a warm smile.

“Yes, mi chulo (cutie). I’m almost finished, come eat.” She started to turn around and walk back inside, but then paused and turned her head, giving you a cold stare that seemed to pierce through your soul. “Ah, and you too, I suppose.” You felt a pang of disappointment as you looked at Miles, realizing that things were going downhill so quickly.

He met your gaze with hopeful eyes and spoke to you, "She just needs to get to know you, that's all." It was meant to reassure you, and while you appreciated his support, you couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling in your heart. You sighed deeply.

This was going to be a very long night.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, you’ve been eating for 30 minutes and it was just, awkward.

You could sense Mrs. Morales' disapproval lingering. Miles did his best to ease the atmosphere, cracking jokes and attempting to bridge the gap between you and his mother. However, it seemed that no matter what he did, Mrs. Morales remained distant.

You tried to engage in small talk and show genuine interest in her life, but your efforts seemed futile. Mrs. Morales gave brief responses and didn't seem interested in getting to know you at all. You felt like you were walking on eggshells, afraid to say or do anything that might upset her.

Miles held your hand tightly the whole time, providing you with a comforting anchor as you navigated the tense conversation. Rubbing small circles into your hand as you clenched his tightly every time you were being shot down in discussion . Miles was your rock, he supported you and helped you through everything. You were so grateful that he was always there-

“Hey, ill be right back, I have to use the bathroom.”

What the hell?

Mrs. Morales lifted her head from her food and nodded at him, “Okay, honey.”, however, you weren’t so ecstatic at the idea of Miles leaving you alone with his mother.

"Miles, what on earth are you thinking?" you whisper-shouted to him, panic evident in your voice. He chuckled at your anxious tone. "You'll be fine, trust me, mami. Here, I'll leave my phone here so you know I won't take long." Miles placed his phone on the table, but you couldn't spare it a glance, too busy giving him a look filled with betrayal. "I'll be right back," he reassured, leaving a tender kiss on your temple before standing up and excusing himself one last time.

“Well this is just great”, you thought. Your plate was finished 15 minutes ago, so you’ve just been with talking to Miles and trying to include Rio in you two's conversations, but now that he’s not here, you’ve settled at twirling your food on your fork.

Suddenly, Mrs. Morales cleared her throat loudly, catching your attention. Your neck snapped up weakly to meet her gaze. She crossed her arms, her posture becoming more assertive. "So, what exactly are your intentions with my son?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow in a challenging manner. Your posture straightened, and you swallowed nervously, your mind going blank. Desperately searching for something to focus on other than Rio's piercing gaze, your eyes landed on Miles' phone case.

That's when you noticed it.

Sat inside Miles clear phone case was a polaroid of your breasts. You gasped seeing the picture, trying to figure out when Miles even did this. It showed them cupped by Miles hand, nipples erect and outward, with bruises left by him all over your skin. You body instantly flushed, how long has Miles phone been sitting on the table? Has Rio seen it?

"Hey, what's that?" Rio asked, her voice pulling you back to the present moment. You realized you had completely forgotten about the current situation, causing you to hastily flip the phone to the other side and let out a nervous "Nothing!" You hoped to divert her attention, but Rio remained unfazed, her gaze fixed on your phone.

"Is that a picture of you on the back of Miles' phone case? That's… cute. Let me see," she said, her curiosity getting the better of her. Your heart skipped a beat, panic setting in.

You knew you couldn't let her see that polaroid. "No! You can't! It's really… embarrassing," you mumbled, your hand instinctively scratching the back of your neck as you tried to sound as convincing as possible.

In response, you could see Rio's eyebrows raise, her interest piqued even more. You knew things were getting out of hand but before you can attempt to change the subject, Rio stops you.

“Wait, is that what I think it is?”

Your heart rate spiked; did she figure it out? You were certain she'd be furious. The mere thought of not being with Miles was unbearable. These rapid thoughts flooded your mind, each one appearing before the last could finish. Before you could answer, you heard Rio burst into laughter.

"Dios mio (Oh my god)…that's hilarious!" The cold demeanor she once had towards you melted away as quickly as it came. You joined in her laughter, relieved that she didn't seem mad about the situation. The bonding moment between the two of you felt genuine and comforting. You had expected her to be more strict, but her laughter was a welcome surprise.

As the tension subsided, Rio looked into your eyes with warmth, a smile lighting up her face. "Jeff used to do that too, take embarrassing pictures of me hang them up in his room. I can see why you're embarrassed. You probably made a really silly face, huh?" You nodded along with her until she reached the last sentence. She thought the picture on the phone case was of you making a silly face?

You laughed awkwardly, shifting in your chair as you tried to play it off. “Yeah! I was making a really foolish face in there, haha.” Your hands waved around dramatically trying the explain the picture to her, anything you made up immediately coming out of your lips. She chuckled at your dramatic performance.

She shook her head taking a sip of the tea she made, “That boy and his tricks, he reminds me more of Jeff everyday…”. Her face slowly turned toward a framed picture of the three of them. Jeff having Miles in a headlock rubbing his head while they’re both laughing, Rio smiling as she took the picture.

The memory depicted a happy and complete family, and you could see the love in Rio's eyes as she looked at the photo. She turned back to you, her tone delicate, filled with the fear of losing her son again. "My son can't lose another person," she whispered.

Rio placed her hand on the table, leaning forward to speak directly to you. "Just promise me you'll always be there for my boy, and I'll accept you," she said, her words sincere and heartfelt. You placed your hand gently on top of hers and replied, "I intend to be there for him until his last day, Ms. Morales." The seriousness in your voice conveyed your commitment.

Rio hummed, processing your response, and then smiled, sitting back into her chair content with your answer. Maybe you were the one who could make this broken family complete again, she thought.

As Miles walked back into the room after using the bathroom, he immediately sensed the warm and playful atmosphere between you and his mother. He sat back in his chair, casually draping his arm around your neck, joining the conversation. "What did I miss out on?" he asked with a playful tone. Both you and Rio exchanged knowing smirks, teasing him with a simple "nothing," which only made Miles grin even wider.

As you answered Rio's questions about you and Miles relationship, Miles let you and her bond and decided to bring his phone out on the table and scroll through social media, accidentally leaving the back in Rio's line of vision. Suddenly, you heard Rio gasp loudly and choke on her tea, causing you to exchange concerned glances with Miles. Worried about what had happened, both of you turned your attention to where she was looking; realizing what had caused her reaction, you both fell silent.

Rio now had a lot of more questions than before.

EXTRA: You screamed at Miles as soon as you left the Morales home, play hitting him as he chuckled at your rage.

You screamed at Miles to keep going as you clenched the sheets as he layed kisses and bites all over your chest. Every bite harder than the last then met with kisses and whispers of sweet nothings that had you on the edge of losing your mind.

“Miles, how could you do that! You made me so scared!”, you complained. Holding his hand as he walked you home. Pouting as he laughed at you not taking you seriously.

“Miles, how are you doing that? You’re making me feel so good!”, you babbled, mumbling little praises to Miles as he marked you, pinching your nipples as you wiggled in his grasp with your wrists held above your head.

You couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore as he tickled you. “C’mon, ma. Don’t make that face at me. I’m sorry, really.” He bent down and kissed your cheek as you crossed your arms at him.

You couldn’t hold in your moans anymore as he made you his. You were almost there but you felt Miles shift and get up and come back with a object in his hands as you continued to squirm.

“You just looked so pretty mami, I had to memorize it.” Miles flashes his signature grin at you. You couldn't stay mad at him, he was too handsome, you'll just have to get back at home some other way.

“You just look so pretty mami, I have to memorize it.” The camera flashes, capturing your beauty perfectly as Miles grins, carefully placing the polaroid on his desk, for safekeeping, at least for now.

ENDING A/N: I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE RIO THAT MEAN LMAOOO, but I feel like its also a lil cannon yk? After losing the love of her life, Miles is the only one she has left so yeah, she’s gonna be protective as hell over him.

TAGLIST: @janaeby @bellstwd @nmgstuff @axeoverblade @zaddyskye69 @agstuffsworld @spidrstar @laylasbunbunny @missusmorales @popeheywardssecretgf @lumineliax

TAGS:

#anika❤︎︎writes #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x you #across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles #atsv miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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deathbxnny · 3 months ago

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So, this is another addition to our Arlecchino x Wife!Fem!Reader series, and I had to make a separate post from the ask due to formatting issues. You can see the inspo of said post HERE, tho!

Thank you otherwise to our dear X Anon for another great request, and I hope this is to your liking!!<33

(Also, sorry this took 5 years to make X Anon... life hates me-)

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three) (Part five)

Content: Female reader, fluff, slight angst, established relationship, actually wholesome for once!

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns

((Not proofread))

Sweet strawberry cakes and stitched together teddy bears. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

You only vividly remember the last time you celebrated your birthday. You had just turned sixteen, and whilst no one usually ever put much importance on this day for you, Peruere and Clervie always did. You recall the pink haired girl approaching you in the darkness of your room as she crawled into bed with you carefully. Peruere stood at the door, unmoving and still, but she was there. Just for you.

Placing a clumsily made cake onto your lap, Clervie leaned her head against yours, her voice quiet and hushed in fear of being heard. "Happy birthday." She whispered into your ear, and it meant the world to you. Peruere delicately held a small gift in her clawed hands, her emotionless face partially illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the window. It was a teddy bear they had made themselves, or maybe Clervie stitched it together whilst your wife found it's pieces. Either way, it was lost to time eventually, just like your dearest friend was.

Now, many years later and far away from the past that still haunts you, you forbade Arlecchino to ever mention that day again. Or, well, you never had to say anything. Both of your birthdays meant nothing to you after your previous "mother's" fall and so, you took your rebirths into your own hands.

Your past life wasn't a part of you here.

But on this day, in which you are forever reminded of your mere mortality and the fact that many of your companions never got older than the last birthday you remembered, you find yourself rather somber, even more than usual at that. And despite your wish to forget about it, your wife still acknowledged it with a kiss on your wrist in the morning. You felt bitter every time she did so, even of you knew she meant well.

Thankfully, however, this day would usually pass every year without anyone even thinking about it being your birthday. You often forget it yourself, too, anyway.

But today felt... different.

Perhaps it was the way Arlecchino's gaze seemed sharper and more focused even in the home, or the way Freminet was practically sweating buckets as he asked you to come along with him and his other two siblings for a "short" outing. But you could tell something was off.

"... You want to go run errands with me?" The question was asked carefully, yet the three siblings could immideatly tell that you were suspicious. It wasn't often that you left the home and everyone knew that you would rather not if you could help it. You were always worried about everyone's well-being, considering your past and its hardships. So your son's request was definitely quite odd. They usually never bothered to ask unless the errand runs were absolutely necessary. And you couldn't necessarily remember anything out of the ordinary happening this week either.

Lyney gave you a sly smile as he pressed a hand against your back and practically pushed you towards the front door with a tip of his hat. "Yes indeed, mother! Now let's get going before the bread at the baker sells out for the day!" He chimed as happily as always, yet that just earned him a raise of a brow from both you and Lynette for similar reasons. It was 12 pm... the bread had most definitely run out by now.

Deciding not to question it, you concluded that they may have just wanted to spend time with you outside. Fair enough, you supposed that you could grant them a small outing. Surely everyone will be fine for an hour or two. Arlecchino just gave you and the three siblings a silent nod in approval from her seat in the kitchen as she flipped through her paperwork with mild interest. The Father of the Hearth house being home certainly quelled your worries as you finally allowed Lyney to drag you out with no further complaints.

The streets were rather busy at this time of the day. You usually stayed clear around these hours and preferred to go out at night if there was ever the need for it. But Lyney was ever so determined to complete this errand run and if it was the last thing he did. Lynette had yet to say a word about it, whilst Freminet clinged to your side, often glancing at his pocket watch in near worry for a reason you couldn't figure out.

"Lyney, child... are you sure this is absolutely necessary?" You asked just as you were about to reach the bakery. "Ofcourse! We just ran out of bread after all... and you know how the younger kids get about that, mother." That was a flat-out lie, you noted swiftly. You were pretty sure that you had more than enough at home. But once again, you didn't say anything more. Perhaps they really did want to just spend time with you... but why couldn't they just say that outright?

As expected, however, the baker not only had no bread left but had closed shop early too. Lynette gave her sweating brother a deadpan, as he clearly was trying to come up with an excuse. One glance at Freminet, who was quickly shaking his head behind you whilst holding up his watch, made it clear that they couldn't turn around yet. They doubted that everyone was done setting everything up and needed to buy time. But you were always so hard-headed when it came to spending too much time away from the house. So what should they do now?

Clearing his throat, Lyney turned to you with a strained smile. "Ah! My, my... quite the bad luck, right? No matter, we still have other things on the list we can get for todays dinner!" Your brows furrowed at that. You don't recall even mentioning what you'd make today to anyone yet. Lynette swiftly elbowed her brother in the ribs knowingly whilst you were deep in thought, which made the man quickly straighten up and take off his hat. "Oh ah! Because we wanted to cook today! Together!" "... You've never done that before." "Ahahaha... you're so funny, mother! Now let's get going before the other shops close too!" He quickly grabbed onto your arm and pulled you along, his head turning to give his other two siblings a silent nod to proceed with their plans.

Since the two were trailing after the both of you, they were quick to pick up any small gifts when you weren't looking. They already had plenty for you at home, but with you watching everyone intensely every day, hiding anything from you was near impossible. It was a blessing and curse alike, yet you taught them well as they began practically hoarding anything they found under their clothes or making them disappear through some little magic tricks. Freminet was shaking like a leaf throughout all of this, yet hoped you didn't notice it too much.

Thankfully, you were more preoccupied with your oldest son dragging you around for his imaginary ingredient list that you were by now convinced didn't even exist. The more time went by, the more anxious and irritated you became. Sure, you appreciated that they wanted to go out with you, but unfortunately, your excellent perception was beginning to make you restless. You just wanted to get home already and resume your schedule with the other children.

"Okay, next up is-" "-Lyney, enough of this boy. Let's head home." You said as the setting sun bathed the world around you in its last sun rays. Freminet hid behind Lynette at the finality in your voice, which made it clear that you were very much done with their games. They knew that you were catching on and that hiding everything from you was impossible. It was truly impressive yet expected from the Mother of the House of Hearth.

Said young man gave you his usual smile, yet you could tell how nervous he was. "But Mother-" "-I'm unsure of what you're doing, all three of you." You began as you crossed your arms with a frown. "And I appreciate it if all you want is to just spend time with me. I really do. But you can also just say that, children. I know how busy your father and I can get, so I can understand... but you also have to also understand, that I have alot to do at home and can't stay out for long." You gently scolded the three, who just glanced at eachother in response. Well, this was not necessarily their goal... but it did hold you up for longer anyway!

After your lecture, you dragged the three back home. You were very tired from the outing, and whilst you found it nice to leave the house for a bit, today just felt so awfully wrong for you. Stepping into the dark and silent house, however, you couldn't help but freeze. The house of Hearth was never silent. It was always moving one way or another, even into the late hours of the night. It never laid still, never truly slept. Your anxiety shot through the roof, as many possibilities ran through your mind at once. Years and years of loss, torture, and pain always made you fear for the worst in moments like these.

Yet when you quickly rounded the corner to the grand living room in absolute terror and worry, the lights suddenly came on and a deafening yell of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOTHER!" rang through the vast house. Confetti flew into the air, and you blinked in surprise, as the three siblings, including the rest of the children and even your wife, stood in front of you around a large table filled with a beautiful cake and plenty of endless gifts. You opened your mouth in surprise, yet were left speechless in shock, as the fear melted away in relief.

Suddenly, everything made sense, and you nearly felt proud that your children were able to sneak past you and organize such a grand party... but only nearly. A sob suddenly shook your body as you pressed a hand against your mouth. That was definitely too much for your heart to handle. Everyone stopped for a moment, realising that they maybe had gone too far, yet Arlecchino approaching you made them all relax again.

She took hold of your hands and wiped away your tears with her claws so delicately. "My apologies. We may have gone overboard." The party wasn't necessarily her idea, nor did she truly understand its purpose, but she had hoped that it would bring you some joy on a day that had been soured forever. And thankfully, when you gave her a weak smile, she was glad to learn that it indeed had done exactly that. "No, I... am just very happy. That's all." It was a partial lie. But it melted into the truth when you looked at all of your happy children in your home. You had made it so far in life. Who would've ever thought that you would ever find yourself happy on this accursed day? "However, give me another heart attack like this one, and I am kicking you all out for a day." You huffed, making everyone giggle before dragging you over to the table to celebrate.

Arlecchino calmly watched you from afar, her gaze calm and gentle. Especially when you opened your wife's gift to find a certain teddy bear in it that instantly moved you to tears once more. You met her eye, an expression on your face she understood well.

You both hoped Clervie was celebrating with you from above, just like she always would.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #arlechinno genshin #genshin arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin

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storiesfromafan · 3 months ago

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Hear me out bennyxreader where they meet on readers birthday and Benny offers her a ride as a bday gift and he says “I ain’t got much, but I can offer you freedom” Like AGGHHH I might take my own spin on this when I can stop cackling at the thought, but I NEED NEED NEED to read your take on this scenario ❤️❤️❤️ p.s. only take this on when you can. I don’t want to make you feel obligated to do it 🥺

A/N: Well I finally did it, I finally finished and revised/edited my take on your request. As I told you, I didn't do it as if they met on the readers birthday, but an established friendship of sorts haha. I hope you like @strayrockette :)

I'm not sure what I think about this, but I will stick with it lol. Pls dont come for me if it's not that good lol.

Warnings: I took inspo from Sixteen Candles haha.

Birthday Girl

A birthday is meant to be a celebration of one’s birth. To be celebrated by those nearest and dearest to you. And that had been what you had hoped for. Unfortunately, that was not what you got. The week leading up to your birthday was chaos. Your older sister had come home with her fiancé. His parents, and both sets of your Grandparent’s, had come into town just the day before, for a family meeting/engagement dinner. Which was arranged tonight, on your birthday. So, this special day for you was now to be shared with your sister.

But your special day, was not special. It wasn’t even acknowledged by any of your family. Oh, you think they were too busy fussing over your sister and the engagement family dinner? No, I mean that no one – not even your mother, whom gave birth to you – didn’t even realise it was your birthday! No one wished you a Happy Birthday when you came down to breakfast. There were no presents waiting for you. Nothing.

Throughout the day you even dropped hints. You questioned if you looked older. You talked about last year’s birthday. You even mentioned liking a particular cake for your birthday. And absolutely nothing! They all forgot your birthday.

Once it sunk in, you spent the day on autopilot. Mixture of anger, annoyance and hurt. But you didn’t expect something like this to happen. Maybe more your birthday being toned down. Or something small during the day, as not to take away from your sisters engagement dinner, and do something bigger the next day. Any of that would have been fine with you. But nope. Not happening.

Then to add salt into your wound, your Grandmothers ganged up on you. They spent moments of the day giving back handed compliments. Such as you have such a lovely physique (Y/N), but you would look better in a dress! Show off that waist! Or you have such a beautiful face, but with some makeup it would enhance it. They couldn’t accept you were a woman who chose slacks over skirts, boots over heels. Or that you enjoyed getting your hands dirty working on cars and bikes. That last bit of information almost gave the women heart attacks.

You were a tomboy. Always have been. And your dad never minded, one less boy crazed daughter to raise. Rather he got to do male stuff with you, and you learnt some helpful and useful information from him. You were the apple of his eye, while your sister was your mother’s. And you were fine with it.

But back to the story at hand; your twenty-fourth birthday being forgotten. When it came to get ready to go to dinner, you were cornered by all the women currently in your house to for-go slacks, in favour of a dress. Reluctantly you gave in, you sister and mother being the ones to pick out a baby blue swing dress, that had a round neckline which showed a bit of collar bone. Your mother being the one to tie the bow at the back, saying how lovely you looked in the dress. Thankfully your sister did your makeup, just simple; light powder, mascara and a bit of lipstick. Half your hair was swept up, and held with a pearl clip. Finally, you were given a pair of flats by your sister for the night.

Now you looked like every women in that house, picture perfect feminine species. You didn’t hate how you looked, you thought you looked beautiful. But you hated how you kind of wanted this. But maybe your own version? Mixing feminine and masculine elements to better fit you.

Dinner went well. You got complicated by everyone that saw you, saying how much you and your sister looked alike now. Like this was a permanent fixture. And it soured your mood. Which was already lack lustre due to everyone forgetting your birthday. By the time dessert and coffee came around, you were done. Done with the jabs at your tomboy look, saying how you looked much better tonight. Done with how everyone fussed over your sister and her fiancé. And you were done with this day. You were ready for it to be tomorrow, an every other day.

When you all finally left the restaurant, all intending to go back to your house for a night cap, you were left to get a lift back with one set of Grandparents. So, as soon as you left the carpark you tried to drop hints on what today was. And just like your parents, they didn’t realise.

“Can you drop me off here?” You said with a sigh. “I don’t feel like goin’ home right away”.

Your Grandmother looked at you with annoyance. “But it’s your sisters engagement!”

Once again you sighed. “Oh I know. I’ve been reminded over and over all day, and tonight!” You’d just stopped at a red light, taking advantage of this and getting out, but not before getting the last word in. “It’s not like it’s someone else’s special day, or anythin’!”

You slammed the car door before storming away from them. Once there was a few blocks distance, you slowed down. Letting your anger fizzle out, replaced with sadness yet again. Grandparents aren’t meant to forget their Grandchildren’s birthday. Sad, hurt and feeling low, you made it to the bar.

There were rows of bikes, loud voices and music coming from the building. That was when you realised how you looked, like a doll. Groaning you knew the Vandal men were about to point out how girly you looked, and make you the butt of many jokes. Was it worth it? Or would walking home, then dealing with the drama there, be better? Knowing that you’d get a lecture for not only getting out of a car at red light, but being disrespectful too.

Squaring your shoulders and taking a deep breath you entered the bar. It was louder on the inside, voices booming in laughter all over the room. You started to make your way past bodies, looking for anyone to sit with. Then you spotted Kathy and a few other women. With a relieved sigh, you made you way over there.

But suddenly, a set of hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back with a laugh. “Hey, you lookin' for a man?”

You turned and saw it was Corky. He looked tipsy, and from the way he swayed a little, it was obvious. Then his face dropped in confusion. He even leaned in a bit. Then it hit him.

“(Y/N)?!” He asked in shock.

You stood tall, projecting your usual confident and laid back nature. “Yeah?”

Then Corky slowly began to laugh, an amused look upon his face. “What are you wearin’!?”

Those that were around heard him loud and clear, their eyes turning to you both. Wahoo came staggering up next, placing an arm over Corky to prop himself up. When he turned to you, it was the same thing as with Corky, only he was louder and that drew even more attention to you.

Both males laughed at you. Asking if you lost a bet. You felt your face heat up at their words and all the attention. Thankfully Johnny came over, wanting to check out the commotion. Seeing you Johnny was surprised, but he was kinder then those before you, or the others that had joined in on their laughter.

“Alright, alright” said Johnny getting the men’s attention, and them to settle down. “Is this any way to treat a woman?”

That made the men laugh once again.

Johnny sighed before shouting. “Enough! Give it a rest. Ya don’t act like this with any other women. So, knock it off!”

The laughter died down yet again, and for good. You looked around at all the men, that was when you noticed the one person you had hoped to not witness this exchange: Benny. He stood not far from the pool table, his usual place to be. He and Cal shared a look, and a few words, before looking back to you. If you weren’t embarrassed before, you were now, since the man you’ve been crazy about since you started working at the bar, had seen everything.

Your first shift at the bar, thankfully started in the afternoon, before it got too busy. You had been given a run down on how to run the bar, where everything was and advised to not show any fear to the men. With that you were left to tend the bar, while the other employee sorted out the supplies in the back. You had just been serving beers, which was easy. You had just given Cal his beer when you herd the most heart stopping gravelly voice.

“Beer please”.

You grabbed the requested drink, popping the lid before placing on the bar before the man. When you lifted your eyes, they met the most beautiful stormy blue eyes. Those eyes held you in place, your brain forgetting to function. Then you noticed his gorgeous face; his jawline that was covered in stubble, full lips. Let’s not forget the messy blonde locks on his head either. Over all a stunning man.

He took a swig of the beer before nodding, “thanks”.

And he was off back to the pool table. Clinking his bottle with Cal – by the jukebox – in passing. You watched Benny and another Vandal play a game of pool, in between serving customers. You admired his arms every time he took a shot. Or how he would focus on the ball he was aiming at. You were completely smitten with him.

Over time you got to know Cal, after he mentioned building bikes. From there you were able to see his work, and eventually work on them too. Cal was nice, like an older brother to you. And being that you both were close, he’d bring you into conversations when you were walking around cleaning tables, collecting bottles and glasses. That was how you got to talk to Benny.

Benny wasn’t one to talk much. But he’d tell stories, and you’d listen to every word, hanging on for dear life. What surprised you was when he would listen when you talk about working on bikes with Cal. The way he would look at you as he listened, it made it hard to keep your thoughts in check and your tongue moving.

There were a few times both Cal and Benny stood up for you. A few other Vandals laughed and made jokes when you’d been talking about a particular bike that Cal had you help him with. Their comments were sexist and crude. Both men did not take kindly to it, and helped their club mates change their tunes. Fists were thrown, and black eyes on faces. That was the day you knew Benny was a friend. Even if just that hurt your heart, because from that moment you’d fallen for him.

“Now then” Johnny said, bringing you back to him. “Don’t ya all have somethin’ to say?”

You had thought it was an apology. How wrong and surprised you were.

It was like every Vandal and Vandal adjacent was watching you and cheered: “Happy Birthday!”

You stood there shocked. Of all the people to wish you a happy birthday, you didn’t think a bar full of bikies would be them. You found it hard to speak, feeling overwhelmed. But a warm, happy smile broke out on your face, and then you laughed.

“Thank you!” You said sincerely.

Johnny smiled, as he patted you on the back before walking off. Slowly the men around you returned to what they were doing. You looked to Cal and Benny, who smiled and raised their beers at you, before going back to the pool table. Taking a deep breath, you quickly moved over to Kathy and the women.

“What an entrance” she commented. “And who would of thought these animals could be nice, wishin’ ya a happy birthday”.

“Yeah, I’m surprised” you said shaking your head.

“Johnny heard it was ya birthday, and told all the men to be nice and say it if ya come in” replied Betty. “But I didn’t expect that”. She laughed.

You figured Johnny did it to defuse the situation, or the joke of you being all dolled up. You could see men around the bar looking at you, whispering to each other and then laughing. You knew they were making jokes. None of them had ever seen you is anything but t-shirts, slacks, boots and dirt, and grease.

Thankfully the women around you changed the topic, and you all talked about anything and everything. It was nice. Forgetting, even for a little while, what had happened leading up to this moment. You felt a little more relaxed, and when Cal brought you a beer, that helped too. Actually you got a few beers from various Vandals, with another happy birthday.

“So, tell us about ya birthday” Betty said, putting her pop bottle on the table. “Did you get spoilt” she giggled.

You felt like a bucket of water had been thrown over you, washing away the little joy you had managed to feel. Only now to be reminded of what your day was like. You stiffly took a swig from your beer bottle, eyes down cast and face blank. All the women shared a concerned look.

“Ya alright?” Asked Kathy, placing a hand over yours when it came to rest on the table.

You shrugged. “It wasn't the best...”

“Wanna to talk about it?” She asked you softly.

And that began the retelling of your day. Starting from when you got up to jumping out of your Grandparents car. You expressed how hurt you had been for being forgotten, as well as pushed to the side for your sister. How the women of your family had an issue with your tomboy attire. And how they had dressed you, like some child’s doll.

“I just...I can't believe today of all days they forgot its my damn birthday!” You said, voice thick with sadness and hurt. “I would have settled for a happy birthday from any of them...but no...”

The lady’s around you all shared a look. Kathy leant over and gave you a one armed hug, telling you how sorry she was you felt like this and it wasn’t right they forgot. You felt the tears rising but willed them back. Throat was tight and dry, so you downed the last of your beer.

“I need a moment to freshen up” you muttered, moving to stand.

You’d just gotten up and straightened out your dress, when Fat Jack – or Big Jack – and another Vandal came walking past. If you hadn’t stood up they would have past by no problem, but instead Jack bumped into you. Which made his buddy bump into him.

Jack growled in annoyance before setting his eyes on you. “Watch it Princess” he sneered. His buddy laughing.

“Ah, s-sorry” you stuttered, which never happened before. But with everything you’re feeling you couldn’t stop yourself.

He huffed. “Whatever Princess. Do us a favour and get ya girly mind out of the clouds. But I’ll say, this is a much better look for ya. More acceptable”. They both roared with laughter.

“Oh shut it” retorted Kathy. “And no need to be an ass”.

That made them laugh harder, and you crack more. Mixed with hurt and anger, you grabbed your bag before taking off through the bar and out the main doors. You heard Kathy calling your name but didn’t care. You were done. That was the last straw. You were a walking joke. Not to mention easily forgotten. Great birthday you had.

Crossing the road you felt a few tears escaped as you tried to keep yourself in check. Which was proving harder to do. You heard the bar doors open but didn’t pay them mind. Not until you heard your name being called. That was when you snapped, having enough of it all.

“What!?” You cried as you spun around with a glare aimed for whoever was behind you.

The person crossing the road to you was none other than Benny. Which for a moment confused you, before disappearing. Why was it him who had to come after you? And see you like this, a mess?.

“Ya alright? I heard Kathy callin' after you but ya didn’t stop” he said softly, concern written on his face. “I saw Jack and his buddy by your table laughin'”.

You laughed. “I’m fine, just dandy. And don’t get me started on that sack of shit”.

“What did he say or do? Tell me” Benny got serious, ready to go to bat for you.

You sighed in frustration. Frustration over everything, but currently Benny being here. Like he cared, like he cared for you. You back up laughing slightly like a lunatic.

“What do ya care? You’ve never cared before” you said in frustration.

“I care. I always care” Benny replied, face softening.

Once more you laughed. “Alright, ya want to know. He called me princess, and said this” – you gestured to your dress – “is a much better look for me. More acceptable. Then don’t get me started on my f-family”. You choked by the end, seething with anger but also hurting too.

Benny straightened, fists clenched. But it softened at the mention of your family. “What happened with them?”

You sighed, releasing most of your anger and allowing the sadness to seep back in. Remembering how they made you feel. “They forgot my birthday...no happy birthday, no present, n-no n-nothing...”

Half way through your explanation you began to cry, it all finally crashing down on you. You placed a hand over your mouth as you cried, holding in the noises that threaten to come out. You lent forward, tilting your head down.

“(Y/N)...” Benny said gently, trying to get your attention.

You looked up at him with your crying eyes. “I’m s-sorry...I must l-look a mess” you stated trying to pull yourself together, while whipping away your tears.

But it only made you cry more. That was when the unexpected happened: Benny pulled you into his chest. He wrapped an arm around your back, while his other hand cradled your head to his chest. For the next however long Benny held you, you cried into his chest. Hands gripping his t-shirt as you let it out. He rubbed your back, making soothing sounds. Had someone told you the day before you’d be spending your birthday crying on Benny, you’d have laughed at how unlikely it would be the happen. But here you were.

You pulled back from Benny, avoiding his face and his baby blues. “S-sorry...” you muttered, stepping back till Benny’s hands were resting on your shoulders.

“Don’t be. I get it. It’s been a shit day” he said with sympathy. “I’m sorry they forgot ya birthday”.

“Thanks...” you replied softly. “I guess I’m glad my Vandal family didn’t forget” you chuckled.

“Yeah, I told Johnny the other day it was ya birthday. He made sure to let the men know”.

You looked at Benny’s face with surprise. “You told Johnny?”

He nodded, moving to stick his hands in his jacket pockets. “Yeah, I heard ya mention it the other day...”

You looked at the man before you with astonishment. “Thank you, really”.

“It’s nothin'. Just a bunch of people wishin' ya a happy birthday” he chuckled. “I didn’t get ya a present” – and idea hit him – “I ain’t got much, but I can offer you freedom”.

Shooting Benny a confused look, he gestured his head towards his bike. He was offering to take you anywhere you wanted to go, to get away from the bar, from this night. You smiled at him and nodded, not trusting your voice. Benny began to walk towards his bike, you following behind him. He got on first, kick starting it to life. The roar was music to your ears, and soothing for the soul. Benny held out a hand, which you reluctantly took, before swinging a leg over the bike.

At that moment the bar doors opened, and out came some Vandals, including Cal, Corky and Wahoo. Among them was Kathy, who looked worried until she saw you with Benny. She was relieved to see you were alright, looking better then when you left. They hooted and hollered as you sat behind Benny. You blushed at them watching you both.

“Better tuck your dress under ya” suggested Benny. “And when ya done, better wrap your arms around me and hold on, yeah?”

You did as instructed with your dress, putting your bag between you both as you leaned closer to him. Wrapping your arms around Benny’s waist, you felt your face heat up more. Once your hands were secure, Benny put up the kick stand before moving from the curb. You could see Kathy’s amused face. As well as hear Cal and Corky yelling, one of them saying about time. Yet you didn’t get what they meant.

“Meet on the express way!” Called Corky.

With that you both rode down the street. Benny took you around the streets. Letting you get a feel for riding on a his bike with him, also to give the others time to get on their bikes and make it to the expressway. You enjoyed the feel of the cool air on your face, and how it made your hair fly. And you enjoyed being close to Benny. A man who had made sure the Vandals knew it was your birthday. You smiled resting your cheek to his back.

As Corky said, coming to the express way it wasn’t long before the Vandals joined you both. It was a sight to see, all the bikes together. The passing light of street lamps illuminating them, letting anyone see for a brief moment their bikes. Benny said he’d give you freedom and he did. You softly laughed feeling content for the first time today. And it was thanks to him and your Vandal family.

Once you’d run the expressway, the Vandals headed back to the bar, while Benny kept going. He knew you needed a longer ride. So he rode around until it was three in the morning. That was when he pulled up out front of your house. Coming to a stop at the curb, Benny put down the kickstand before turning off the bike, leaving the street in an eerie silence. You sat for a few minutes, just letting it all sink in. Then Benny held out his hand, which you took and were grateful for the help off the bike.

You staggered but thankfully Benny was there to grab your arm. Once it was safe to let you go, he did. He then got off his bike himself, but lent back on it, watching you closely. You smiled at him, not brightly but enough to know you were in better spirits.

“Thanks for that. It’s just what I needed” you chuckled.

Benny smiled warmly at you. “Any time, ya just gotta ask”.

You nodded your head, smile widening at his words. “I’ll hold ya to it”.

Now it was Benny who nodded and chuckled.

You had been thinking while on the back of his bike, and wanted to ask him what was on your mind. But wasn’t sure how. As if sensing it, Benny asked you what’s on ya mind?

“I want to know...why did you remember my birthday, and tell Johny?”

Benny laughed softly, eyes shining with amusement. “It’s it obvious?” – You shook your head – “Because I like you, (Y/N)”.

That surprised you. Benny Cross liking you. You wanted to pinch yourself but reframed from it. If this was a dream you don’t want to be woken up. You blushed, feeling shy all of a sudden. Which Benny found adorable.

“Really?” You questioned softly. “But I’m a tomboy...this is just a one off...”

Benny smiled brightly, getting up from his bike and moving before you. His hand moving to lift your chin. “I’ve always liked ya. Slacks, dirt, grease and all”.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. He liked you for you, and not the princess you were right now. Smiling brightly you lent up and placed a kiss upon Benny’s cheek. You stepped back, about to turn around and head to your front door.

But Benny’s hand grabbed your arm stopping you. He cupped your cheek before leaning down and pressing his slightly chapped lips to yours. The kiss was chaste and sweet. But still had you melting. Benny pulled back, running his thumb down and along your jaw as he gave you a soft smile.

“Now that’s a way to show someone ya like them back” he said amused. Which made you blush.

This time you stepped back and Benny let you go. He watched you walk to your front door before unlocking it. Standing in the doorway, you looked to the man of your dreams and gave him a beaming smile. With a goodnight from you both, you closed and locked the front door before leaning against it. You waited for the roar of his bike and the sound of him riding off down the street before you moved from your spot.

For a day that had been the worst, it ended on the best possible outcome. And you couldn’t wait to see Benny again. Or go for a ride with him either. As if you were floating, you went to your room and went to bed. No doubt dreaming about your dreamy Vandal.

#benny cross x reader #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x you #the bikeriders x reader #austin butler x reader

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kradogsrats · 4 months ago

Text

Aaravos, Leola, and the Entire History of Human Magic: Revisited

So I last dumped on this topic right after s5 released, and came up with a rough series of conclusions that were largely correct, as far as interpreting what information we had been given so far. Now that s6 has dumped some new delicious and crunchy twists into the mix, let's take another look.

The Unicorn's Gift

Going into s6, we had 2.5 accounts of the gifting of primal magic to humans: the Book One: Moon novelization, Tales of Xadia, and Ripples. In Book One: Moon, and Tales of Xadia, we learn that humans received primal magic from the/a most selfless and compassionate unicorn(s), against the advice of the elves.

Unicorns were always the most selfless of the Xadian beings. There came a time when, filled with pity, they desperately wanted to help the struggling humans. After all, it was not the humans' choice to have been born without magic. But the First Elves were wary. They warned the unicorns that kindness was not always returned with kindness; it would be a mistake to trust the species. After all, if humans were supposed to use magic, they would have been born with it.

— Book One: Moon

One heart took pity on the plight of humanity. A unicorn, unique among her own rare kind, saw the strength and ingenuity of the human spirit where others saw weakness and beastly ignorance. Her name was Leola. While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, she gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells.

— Tales of Xadia

What's interesting is how inaccurate both of these stories have turned out to be. We also don't even actually know whose stories these are. By the time of the series events, it's no longer even remembered that humans had primal magic, aside from primal stones. It's a truth forgotten on the human side, and either similarly forgotten or deliberately suppressed in Xadia. Despite the brightest, most constant star in the sky still retaining the name "Leola's Last Wish," neither Callum nor Rayla know who Leola was.

Ripples obliquely acknowledges the vagueness and changing nature of these stories, opening with:

Like all the oldest tales, time has bent its shape and blurred its color. It is a fable whispered on some tongues and shouted on others. While one may say it ends with a sunrise, another will insist it ends at nightfall.

— Ripples

So rather than directly telling the story of humanity's acquisition of primal magic, Ripples deals with the aftermath. We learn that humanity had been, implicitly or explicitly, forbidden primal magic, and in the wake of them receiving it, a star fell.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

— Ripples

The story told in Ripples turns out to be the most accurate, based on what we have learned from s6. Humans acquired primal magic, and a star was cast from the sky. (A tiny star, if you want extra emotions.) It makes no mention of how humans learned primal magic, only that they did, and—unlike the other stories, where the elves caution against giving magic to humans but take no other action—the are hunted by monsters for it.

Elarion, fading bloom, afraid to wilt and dim and die, she searched the dark for but a spark and caught the dragons’ hungry eye.

— Midnight Star

Hmmmm.

The Order of the Stars

One of the main things, possibly the main thing, we learned from s6 is that we were given a glimpse of the stars as the god-like authorities that have been hinted at in a lot of Aaravos-related side content. It's not a good look. (It never was.)

It tells us succinctly why primal magic was forbidden to humans: in the timeless gaze of the stars, humans acquiring magic dooms the universe.

(Of course, it is the attempt at averting prophesied doom that actually brings it to pass, but that's just standard stuff. For all their omniscience, the stars apparently still lack genre-awareness.)

This "cosmic order" is likely what the stars have built that Aaravos seeks to destroy:

I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand.

— Ripples

And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky.

— Patience

Snitches Get Stitches, Even Dragons

The other major curve ball s6 has thrown into the story as we understood it is the involvement of the archdragons, Sol Regem in particular. According to Aaravos, the testimony of a young Sol Regem is the only evidence against Leola.

At the time, Aaravos seems to take this at face value, and argues that anything Leola may have done was out of love for humans and the world, not defiance of the cosmic order. Maybe this is because Sol Regem/Anak Arao is an archdragon of the Sun, the primal source known for the light of truth.

I, however, have to wonder if he was lying. Taking a look at Ripples, again:

— Ripples

Apparently, the first primal source humans accessed was the Sun. It could just be that Anak Arao was a rules-obsessed hall monitor and... but what if it wasn't Leola who gave humans that secret? We don't even see Leola doing any magic of the kind she's credited with giving humans—no runes, no spells of any specific primal. If someone did teach humans the runes and Draconic words for primal magic, it seems unlikely to have been her.

But as heir to some kind of position of authority, could it have been partially Anak Arao's responsibility to keep his primal source out of human hands? Was it maybe stolen out from under his nose, and he sought to shift the punishment away from himself? (And boy, would it sure be a real uno-reverse to have this story loop all the way back around to a literal theft of fire for humanity.) Or could it have been lost/given to humans by someone he wanted to protect from the same cosmic justice?

Hmmmm.

There have been hints about a larger human/dragon conflict in the past, most notably the Midnight Star poem. In a hiatus-era interview, Aaron Ehasz describes an early version of the setting as being essentially humans/unicorns vs. dragons/elves. The low-key emphasis on humans and dragons in opposition that we get from some of these materials is a) interestingly not mentioned in either of the "unicorns gave primal magic to humans" stories, and b) not actually what we see as the primary conflict in the setting, outside of Sol Regem's personal grudge.

It gets especially weird because, like... there's no reason to think all the other archdragons we're aware of (except Zym) weren't there, too. Sol Regem is cast as a bit older, but not "of an entirely different generation from the other archdragons"-older. So like, you'd think Zubeia would remember, at minimum, that primal magic was forbidden to humans by the cosmic order. Maybe, given the implied departure/loss of interest by the stars, no one cares anymore? Maybe dark magic was considered a much more serious issue, as far as perversions of the natural order are concerned. Or I guess it's possible that there was some special relationship between the stars and the line of the archdragon Sun King, and the other archdragons weren't privy to the machinations going on in the heavens.

Basically, there's been a big new mystery introduced as to the geopolitics of Xadia and the heavens in the distant past, in addition to Aaravos's personal relationships with all the archdragons.

Book and Key

So overall, I don't actually know what to make of this:

But I have a couple wild theories to put forth.

First of all, Aaravos has been referred to as "archmage of all six primal sources," and this is reflected in the pre-s6 promo art series featuring the book and key.

But, interestingly, we also see in s6 that in order to truly commune with the heavens, the Celestial elves have to remove themselves from the influence of the other primal sources, specifically the Sun and Moon.

So, as powerful as they are, I think maybe Startouch elves don't have automatic access to the other primal sources. Maybe not even the magic of the Star primal, as it exists harnessed by rune spells. The book is probably how Aaravos himself built connections to primal magic while in Xadia.

(This would mean that the reason it was at all believable for Leola to give the secrets of primal magic to humans is because Aaravos was exploring those secrets—something it could be that the stars resented?)

Anyway this could also connect up with any number of wild theories about the nature of primal magic or primal elves, though we see a Moonshadow elf among Leola's friends so it seems primal elves are already present at this point. Being me, if Aaravos and Leola's home was actually in what is now Duren, I at least personally want to believe that he was seeding the frontier with magic.

Anyway, as always: some answers, and even more questions. Catch y'all later when the post-release interviews and Q&As inevitably make everything even weirder.

#the dragon prince spoilers #tdp spoilers #s6 spoilers #don't mind me i'm just over here gnawing off my own arm #primal magic #startouch elves #kradogsmeta

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mal3vol3nt · 7 months ago

Text

the reason people get mad and upset over aang not killing ozai is because they can’t or are unwilling to understand what it really meant for him to be the last airbender

a lot of people don’t truly acknowledge what aang went through when they talk about him. it was a genocide. an ethnic cleansing. a GENOCIDE. and i think that’s because so many people are just incapable or unwilling to wrap their heads around how tragic and isolating and unchangeable something like that is.

i’ve seen countless people say they wish aang had found other airbenders hiding away somewhere. and while i totally get wanting that to happen for the happiness of the character (hell, even i have thought about how heart wrenching that utter relief would feel for him), i’ve also seen those takes associated with people saying they just find it hard to believe that none of the airbenders survived. that none of them were able to escape.

and that’s the thing that annoys me because genocide is a real fucking thing that has happened and IS currently happening in the world (just look at palestine, congo, sudan). it shouldn’t be so hard for people to suspend their belief into thinking it could happen in a fictional piece of media. this disbelief that a genocide can be real results in people being unable to fully sympathize with a character who is stated several times to be the definite, unchangeable sole survivor of his people’s genocide. and i’m not saying it’s wrong to want there to be airbenders who lived, but in canon it’s clear that none of them did. and the ones who did canonically escape were hunted and lured by the fire nation to their demise. and if we’re going to discuss characters and the intents behind their actions, aang’s character development is heavily, heavily heavily guided by his guilt and grief over his lost culture and people. but a lot of people still can’t wrap their heads around the canonical genocide he survived, meaning they can’t fully comprehend why aang would choose peace over a violent end. and considering atla is a western show with a largely western audience, its even more evident that this gap in people’s ability to understand and sympathize with aang is emphasized by their western intrigue toward violence. people don’t just misunderstand aang’s dilemma—they wanted him to kill ozai because seeing him do that would have been cool and interesting and satisfying.

but aang’s decision to spare ozai’s life was made due to his status as the last airbender. prior to meeting the lion turtle, i think it’s safe to say that he had resigned to what he had to do. that is to say, he was likely going to kill ozai despite the pain that was going to cause him. he was going to give up a part of himself, his humanity and the last remainings of his culture, to be the avatar the world needed. but he was then gifted the ability to energy bend, offering him, but not cementing, another option. aang still had the choice, and we saw in the fight that aang was so very close to killing ozai even with this new ability. but he couldn’t. because although killing ozai would have been a pretty justifiable thing to do, it would have fully finished off the air nomads. aang was the only living human who held onto their beliefs. if he were to push those values aside to end the war, the war would have ended the same way it started: with the death of the air nomads. and it may sound “cheesy” or overly dramatic or whatever to some people, but aang’s entire story arc has, arguably, been him trying to fit in a world that seemingly has no more room for the air nomads. not only is he 100 years in the future, but this future has none of his people around and war is everywhere. violence is basically required to survive. death is everywhere. greed has corrupted nations. everything the air nomads stood against made up this world, and aang, as the avatar, had no choice but to save it. for him to have given in to what everyone expected of him—violence—he would have ultimately eliminated air nomad values from the world. and the world would have not cared. aang’s victory would have been celebrated, but aang would have felt even more grief than before. he would have let himself and his people down. and balance would have never been achieved because the air nomads mattered. they were part of what kept the world going round. no matter how much the current world he was fighting for called for violence and death to achieve an end, the air nomads still had a voice through aang. they were still around because of aang. aang’s existence and dedication and love for his culture kept the genocide from being official.

and in my opinion, air nomadic values coming out victorious in a war that nearly wiped them clean (except for aang) is much more of a meaningful and satisfying ending than violence ending with violence.

and if you wanna call aang’s decision selfish, then fine. but i personally think it’s more selfish to expect a survivor of genocide to keep giving and giving and giving for a war that took his people from him until he has nothing left of himself to give. i think that is far more selfish. aang may be the avatar but he is also human. just as much human as his people were, and the leaders he was fighting against, and the millions of people he ended up saving, and just as deserving of having some sort of agency in the decisions he makes. call me crazy ig

#aang’s decision to spare ozai was the right decision and yall will never convince me otherwise #aang was a victim of this war and his people deserved to receive justice in a way they would have appreciated and advocated for #and if you wanna say it was selfish of him #then so what??#call me crazy but i think a 12 year old survivor of genocide is more than right to be selfish when confronting the man #whose forefathers took his people and culture from the earth #and who planned on giving that same fate to other nations of people #atla #avatar the last airbender #pro aang #aang defense squad #air nomads #airbenders #aang #avatar aang

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fadingdaggerr · 1 year ago

Note

Hi luv I love you works so much !!!!!

Idk if you're still taking a request but I have an idea for r and melissa fics :). So r has a big bombastic crush on melissa and so does Melissa but you know how Melissa is, she's acting like she hates r. But then they ended up wrapping a birthday gift together for one of the teachers. And then they confess, kiss and stuff :)

Thank youuuuuuuuu

just how we feel

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! eight months at abbot had you convinced melissa hated you, until jacob pairs you together for janine’s birthday celebrations

warnings/includes: insecurity (mel and r), mel is mean to r, angst? or at least angst-adjacent, resolved conflict, confession, little bit of kissing

italicized sections are flashbacks

note: on this episode of ‘sol got a little too into this and they almost forgot the prompt’ did i project onto mel a little in this one. yeah? i did. and we’re gonna say NOTHING. n e ways. enjoy <3

your first day at abbott all those months ago had been a rocky start, but now the school practically felt like home. the kids were sweet and pretty funny, full of unbridled energy, but sweet and funny nonetheless. most of your fellow teachers were nice, helpful even. janine seemed to be the most excited about you joining the team, jacob a close second. you were thankful for gregory’s calm presence when you sat with them, both of you just allowing the other two to speak to their hearts’ content. ava had told you she was ‘glad there was someone close to her level of sexy,’ because apparently being the only one was exhausting for her.

your eyes landed on a redhead seated close to the coffee maker. big green eyes and glossy lips, her leather jacket exuding confidence for her. she caught onto your careful staring, her eyes scanned over you quickly, lingering briefly when your eyes met. you smiled lightly under her attention, giving her a tiny wave. she looked down instead of replying.

for the first month, you hadn’t said much more than hello and good morning to barbara or melissa. eyes of aventurine burned holes into you every time you so much as tried to speak to one of them, to the point where you only greeted barbara when she was alone, never saying a word to the redhead. you wished those beautiful eyes would look at you with something other than disdain, and maybe her voice would hold flowers instead of thorns.

you had tried, you really did. melissa’s presence was alluring, her laugh and smile were unbelievably beautiful, even if they were never directed towards you. it was a struggle to not even look at her, but being caught felt like it would result in being screamed at. you tried small waves, even just a nod of acknowledgment, but no matter what you did, you were always met with cold response.

“good morning, melissa,” you said with a soft smile as you poured yourself a cup of bitter coffee.

“yeah,” was all she responded with.

it hurt to no end. for some reason that you apparently weren’t worthy of knowing, melissa schemmenti hated you.

after six long months, and a new school year, barbara had started to make little visits to you classroom before the day started. most conversations were pleasant, and always ending at exactly the same time. the moment melissa walked into the building, you were back to being by yourself.

—

getting in early gave you a sense of control. everything could be set up before anyone, even other teachers, could see otherwise felt nice. what was also nice was that barbara and gregory were the only other two that showed up just after you, janine only a few minutes behind them. early mornings meant you could speak to your coworkers, especially barbara, without anxiety eating you inside-out.

“baby, i haven’t seen you all week! how was your weekend?” barbara asks from your doorway with a kind smile.

“oh, hey barb. it was good, little sad about the rain though,” you say with a small pout, “i was supposed to go to this mini-market my neighborhood has. how was yours?”

an excited look crosses her face, “oh, it was lovely. gerald and i went out to dinner saturday, just the two of us. sunday we had brunch with melissa at gustavo’s.”

the mention of melissa’s name made your content smile falter. she was incredibly guarded with everyone, that wasn’t your problem. it was that everyone else, even the worst and actually annoying ones, at least got a small smile and a greeting. you didn’t even get an acknowledgment other than the occasional glare that came when you entered the lounge.

“that’s nice,” you said with a tight-lipped smile, turning away to adjust a stack of quizzes on your desk. you miss the way barbara looks at you with confusion, your reaction feeling off to her. the clock ticked, telling you it’s time for melissa to arrive. turning to barbara, you swallow your emotions, “i’ll see you later barb.”

that same day at lunch you quickly dropped quarters into the vending machine with shaking fingers, melissa standing beside you, waiting her turn. the last iced tea drops down and you hear a huff from the redhead’s lips behind you, then catch sight of her moving to sit down. the defeat written on her face told you that the iced tea was something she liked, had even been looking forward to. a nagging feeling pulled at your heart, the desire too strong to get rid of the barely noticeable frown on her lips.

you walk over and place the raspberry iced tea on the table in front of her, “have a nice day, miss schemmenti.” you left quickly, not wanting to see the disgust for you on her features. if you had stayed you would’ve seen the sad look across her face at the interaction, namely your departure.

—

early november was filled with secret meetings before students arrived, and most importantly, before janine arrived. you had all avoided her like the plague, scared to reveal secrets about her upcoming birthday. twenty-six is a very big deal, according to jacob, but so was her twenty-fifth.

you all played along with jacob’s plans and enthusiasm, he even somehow convinced barbara to take janine out for a one-on-one breakfast as a birthday surprise. ava had agreed to one singular day of not making fun of janine for anything, even her clothes ava! gregory stayed private about his plans for janine’s birthday. even with all of you were practically begging him to spill the beans, he kept his mouth shut with a little smile making its way forward.

jacob had divided the rest of the gifts that janine absolutely needed between himself and zach, you, and melissa. he had already planned when to get the big gift, whatever it was, with zach over the weekend. this meant he had assigned you and melissa to buying and arranging the decorations. when he suggested this, you wished you hadn’t looked over to melissa. you watch her head bow down, muttering something under her breath with a face of annoyance. when her eyes looked up to meet yours, you immediately looked away and picked at your nails.

five minutes before janine was to arrive, your secret meeting ended, everyone quickly going to their typical places. in the lounge you stand next to barbara where she sits at her table with melissa.

it took a couple deep breaths before speaking to calm yourself. after fumbling with your bag to grab your wallet, you drop two twenties in front of melissa, “here, money for the decorations. saves you from having to deal with me.” and with that, you leave the lounge and walk to your classroom, leaving melissa behind with a frown.

the redhead turns to barbara, “what was that?” barbara only responds with a sharp glare and a shake of the head. melissa’s head perks up to see if anyone else had witnessed it, but jacob and gregory are quick to turn away and avoid her gaze. she turns back to barbara, “what?!”

ava is the only one brave enough to say, “that was the final straw in live action.”

“what does that mean?” melissa is fuming, which is only worsened when jacob mumbles under his breath, “what did you say, hill?”

with wide eyes, and hands gripping the table as if he would throw it if she attacked, jacob says quickly, “if you’re rude to someone all the time, they’re gonna be rude back.”

“that schemmenti snark is great, but pissy smurf is a human too, even if you hate them,” ava speaks up again. her words actually stopped melissa’s thoughts for a second. hate you? when did she say she hated you? she didn’t hate you, yet everyone else seemed to agree on it.

gregory clears his throat, “just saying, the response to ‘good morning,’ typically isn’t just ‘yeah’ or ignoring it completely.”

“am i really that bad?” melissa asks in a quieter tone, only barbara picking up on the insecurity. the silence from everyone is more than telling, making melissa think to herself for a moment. you hadn’t eaten in the teachers’ lounge since your second week at abbott, the last time she’d seen you here was after janine’s friend ruined her books.

she walked into the lounge to take a breather, not even noticing anyone else was in the room. when you saw her flushed face and her hands tensing into fists, you’d asked her if she was alright and if she needed or wanted help, a kind expression despite the worry behind your eyes. seeing melissa upset made you feel the need to act for a reason you couldn’t place yet, but her apprehension towards you grew your own doubt. when she turned to look at you, the anger and resentment on her face only grew.

“do i look like i need your fucking help?”

you stuttered back a bit at the aggressive nature of her tone, the stone cold look in her eyes making you feel small. you blinked quickly, only answering with a mumbled ‘sorry’ before leaving.

thinking about the interaction, her heart shattered for you and anger for herself rose. you’d done nothing but try to show her some semblance of kindness, even when she was horrible to you. she yelled at you, swore at you, and you still gave her your iced tea, held doors, and last week you brushed the light dusting of snow off her car before you left.

“fuck it,” she says as she stands and heads down the hallway. she was going to talk to you, even if she had never actually done so before. when she reaches your classroom, she wipes sweaty hands on her shirt, nerves eating her alive. it shouldn’t be this hard to talk to you, but the knowledge that you were sure she hated you made the task impossible. she peeks in the window and sees you stabbing at something in tupperware, but not eating it. she finds some amount of courage to knock.

“open,” you call out. when you turn to see who entered, your shoulders tense immediately. your mouth moves faster than your brain and you ask her, “was i not allowed to stand near your table? i’ll make note for next time.”

melissa visibly cringes at the comment but doesn’t retaliate, she knows she deserved that one. she looks down at the floor for a moment, then back to you, “i don’t hate you.”

“you don’t even look like you believe that,” you turn your chair to face her, leaned back with your arms crossed. you sigh, “it’s fine, don’t dwell on it. i’m not going to anymore.”

“i don’t hate you,” melissa repeats, “but i know i haven’t done anything to help my case.”

“no, you haven’t,” you say, looking at the floor as you stand from the chair. you lean against the desk and face melissa, doubt written across your expression. you sigh, “but you can try to help it now. maybe explain why i walked into abbott and became a god damn pariah.”

she closes the door behind herself and leans against the wall across from you. she’s never been so nervous, but with your eyes trained on her instead of jumping away, her heart races.

she fusses with her rings for a second then says, “i don’t like new people. never have, probably never will. that’s not an excuse, i know.” you nod, understanding part of her original apprehension but motion for her to continue. she thankful for a second and goes on, “you’re so warm to everyone, even me, even when i’m not. stupid thing, i like how nice you are to me, how for some reason you think of me even when i’m,” she gestures up and down herself, “me.”

you blink a couple times, collecting your thoughts, “you like that i’m nice to everyone, to you, so you swear at me and never respond when i say good morning?”

she takes a sharp inhale, “…yes. i’m not used to that, there’s no catch, no little jokes or whatever, just nice. i don’t want people looking at me, talking to me, it’s bleh,” she appreciates the little laugh you let out, “but from you, it feels different, good different. and i’m an idiot apparently because i fight it, i fight ‘cause i’m expecting the shoe to drop. but there’s no shoes! not until it was a bad different, especially coming from you, and it was my fault.”

melissa hadn’t realized her eyes had began to water at her words. she’d never been good at this, verbalizing feelings when she didn’t fully understand what they were. she glanced up at you, expecting anger written in the lines of your face, only to find what she could only think was empathy, perhaps understanding. you nod, letting her continue, seeing the nervous look on her face telling you there was more.

“the yelling at you, i am so, so sorry. she destroyed hundreds of dollars of books and i was so angry, i didn’t think about what i said, who i said it to. dio, i wished i could punch myself in the mouth after i said it,” she wants to cry just remembering your face when she snapped at you, “even after you look at me, and there’s no anger, nothing. and i cant read what’s going on, and i try to figure it out, but you look away.”

you looked at her, then the floor in front of her, a silent request to step closer. she accepts by relaxing her tight shoulders, only three feet laying between the two of you now. she can smell the rain that lingered on your clothes from the walk in mixing with eucalyptus, the combination and your presence somehow calming her a little.

“i understand what you mean. i don’t like different either. hate it, actually. but, abbott is good different, and it started to feel less good when i got yelled at, stared at, and flat out ignored otherwise.” she nods quickly, accepting blame for it all. talking to you now, she’s never felt more like an asshole, from new york.

“hon, i’m so sorry for everything i’ve said and done. i know none of what i said excuses it, i just wanted to explain. i’ll be better, i’ll work on it,” she puts out her pinky. you squint at it, then her, “and you can tell barb on me any time or you can just yell at me.” she decidedly likes the laugh that bubbles out from you.

“deal,” you say as you wrap your pinky around hers, both of you giving the other a shake.

—

saturday melissa picked you up from your apartment to go shopping for janine’s present. she bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for the buzzer to alert her you’d let her in. she walked up the stairs with nerves desperately trying to pull her back, but she pressed on. she felt more nervous knocking on your door now than she did the other day. what has gotten into me, she grumbled go herself.

she can hear footsteps approaching and she steps back instinctively. when you open the door she’s greeted by the sight of your out of work clothes, fuzzy orange slippers with smileys still on your feet.

“hey,” melissa says as you move to let her in. she’s cautious in her movements into your apartment, looking only at the floor.

shutting and locking the door quickly behind her, you reply, “hi.”

“scared someone will steal your cute little slippers?” melissa tries not to let her heart kick her ribs when you roll your eyes with a little laugh.

“obviously. well, and my cat,” you say as you place dirty dishes in the sink for later.

melissa scanned around the apartment, there was a scratch tower, but no sign of a cat, “can other people see this cat?”

you chuckle as you walk over to the tv, reaching behind it. a giant fluffy brown cat is revealed, now cradled in your arms like a baby. you walk over to her, “this…” you present him with a big smile on your face, “is frank. i’m pretty sure he thinks if he’s behind the tv then it means he’s on the screen.”

melissa smiles at the cat who is like a puddle in your arms, she raises a hand and shakes his paw that sticks up, “nice to meet you, frank.” the cat blinks at her a couple times before turning in your arms to drop to the floor and running to sit on his perch.

“i think that’s him saying we have obscene amount of ribbon and stickers to buy and he won’t hold us up,” you giggle, sliding off your slippers and grabbing what could only be described as the first pair of converse to ever exist. melissa thinks they may have once been grey, but she’s not sure you’d even remember.

apparently craft stores are the place to be on a saturday afternoon in november. you were both stood in the party aisle, trying to pick a theme and decorations out. the options were plentiful, but so was the obnoxiousness of it all, glitter and shimmers everywhere. all very janine, but very not the two of you.

melissa leans to you and asks, “what if we just got her a glitter step stool?”

“she’d be too scared to use it,” you say through a laugh. you reach towards a light blue and purple floral set of table decorations, across it, golden glitter decorating the edges. holding it up to melissa, she shrugs with a nod, it was the least offensive to the eyes and had janine written all over it.

you and melissa walked around and grabbed light blue plastic tablecloths, other little floral decoration from that theme, and some paper and markers for a sign. you ran back while in line to grab stickers and plastic photo stands, leaving melissa with very full arms. melissa’s hands shake when she gives the cashier the money from her wallet, the two twenties you placed in front of her staring at her from the pocket. the walk to the car was easy, the drive back to your place was comforting in a way.

“jacob gave me a deck of pictures to put in the little clip things,” you say as you unlock your door, letting melissa in first.

“i don’t even want to know how he got them,” she jokes, though she’s suddenly tense. she doesn’t have time to think of why before she feels something brush against her leg, seeing frank at her feet.

she watches you tread to what she can guess is your bedroom, and when you return, you have pictures in hand and franks attention, the fluff ball running to you immediately. melissa watches you flick through pictures, seeing your facial expressions morph from awww to oh god.

“i’m scared of jacob for real now. pretty sure he stole her camera or hacked into her phone to get these,” you say as you face a couple odd ones toward her. by the looks of it all, you were right, jacob might be terrifying.

she grabs the bag with the decorations and art supplies, spreading everything out on the coffee table, “let’s do this.”

after about half an hour, you’d grown quiet and your pace had slowed down in the lettering on the poster. melissa could tell you were really paying attention to what you were doing, solely running on autopilot as you though about something. she flicked a little paper sticker-back at you to get your attention, you head shaking with a sharp inhale.

“you’re thinking do hard you might cause an earthquake,” melissa says, making you smile a bit, “what’s up?”

“the other day, the stuff you said about different and stuff,” you take a breath in, “what did you mean when you said me talking to you and whatever was good different?”

it’s melissa turn to go quiet and get a tad bit shy. her mind immediately started thinking of anything she could say that wasn’t the truth, that could placate you and this conversation. as much as she wanted to just say you don’t suck, she can’t find herself wanting to lie to you, especially after you’d given her a chance for honesty.

she huffs a little laugh at herself, “i don’t fully know, if i’m being honest. sometimes attention from people is suffocating, annoying really, but from you it’s not. it feels kinda nice, actually, like this… i don’t know, like this fluttery feeling,” she says as she places stickers on the page in front of her, “until you look away and i can’t look back at least. i don’t even know why you’re staring, but you always are.”

your eyes fall to your lap, and melissa watches you pick at your nails. she’d noticed this habit, always seeing it when she caught you staring at her. she wishes she hadn’t been that honest. you muster the grit to quietly say, “i wasn’t staring at you or judging you, melissa. well i- i guess i was staring, which is rude but it wasn’t not like that. sometimes i just try to see what’s going on, what i’m doing wrong.”

melissa feels her heart aches at your words, you’d never done anything wrong to her yet you worried. you had tried to learn how to change to get her to like you when you never had to. she watches your gaze flick to her then back to your nails, her own quiet question on her lips, “and the other times?”

your lips purse as you feel heat run to your cheeks. “you’re really pretty, y’know? it’s kinda hard not to notice. sometimes i don’t even realize i’m doing it until you look back, then i have to tell myself to stop doing it cause it’s probably creepy and you probably hated it, and me,” you answered quietly, ceasing the feigned interest in your nails and finally looking at her.

that was… definitely not the answer melissa was expecting, though truthfully there wasn’t a real guess as to what you would say. her mind was buzzing at everything you said, but especially that you said said she’s pretty. you thought melissa was pretty.

she licks her lips, now visibly nervous, “don’t try to be all sweet and try to win my favor. we’ve been over that last part, i don’t hate you.”

you shuffle to sit on your knees, leaning over the table on your elbow, propping your face in your hands, “i’m not trying to win your favor. you asked me a question, and i answered it. honestly. but now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“what’s your question?” melissa barely gets the sentence out. she’s stuck in her place by your words and your sudden closeness. you’re close enough to touch, but she can’t and she won’t. she doesn’t deserve to after how she’s treated you.

“fluttery feeling?” you kept your question simple, letting her say whatever she wanted without pressuring her.

she let out a puff, anxiety striking her. you’d been completely open with her, she owed you the same. she looked back to you, “you know, you think i’m pretty or whatever, so i’m guessing you haven’t seen yourself.” you chuckle at jokingly shocked expression, hear running to your cheeks. she cracks a little smile as she goes on, “any attention from you made me get all nervous, hence the snapping. i think i was embarrassed that i like the attention from you. you, specifically.”

as much as you had tried to hide the smile on your face, you couldn’t. melissa adored the way you tried your damned hardest, but you simply couldn’t. it was contagious, her own smile forming on her lips.

through a little laugh you say, “that the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”

melissa gasps out a laugh, “there are other gay things i’ve said?”

“are you kidding me? you said ‘decisive women are hot’ last week,” you say as your push down your laughter.

melissa swipes her hand down her face in defeat, “you got me there.”

your laughter dies down after a moment, you clear your throat saying, “for the record, you give me that fluttery feeling too. probably why i’m such a try-hard for your attention.”

melissa leans forward a bit, leaving only a few inches between you now. your tongue poked out to wet your lips, eyes flicking down to hers. it doesn’t go unnoticed by melissa as she takes the opportunity to take her gaze across your face. she finally speaks, “is that right?”

all you can manage is a small nod. melissa fights a smile as she reaches out gently nudge one of your hands away from your face, holding it in hers. she pulls you in by the hand, asking you with her eyes. she’s met again with a nod.

she lets go of your hand to cradle your face pulling you closer, she stops just before your lips can touch, asking you again. you answer by leaning in and pressing your lips to hers, soft and sweet. melissa sighs into her kiss, all the anxiety and nerves leaving her the second your lips met, her entire focus only on how gentle you were with her.

without disconnecting your lips, she’s moved around the corner of the coffee table that divided you, pressing into you more. your hands moved to delicately hold either of her neck, pulling her as close as you could. melissa’s free hand rests on your thigh, the warmth radiating off of you grounding her. just as her tongue swipes against your bottom lip, a rattle from next to you makes you both jump apart. looking to her right, melissa sees frank on the table, gnawing at one of the little daisy table decorations.

“christ, frankie. no, no, that’s not yours,” you scowled at the cat as you picked him up. you place him on the cat tower, “kill the vibe or the decorations, pick one not both. little jerk.” frank licks your hand, maybe as a sorry, “fine, apology granted.”

melissa just watched you, almost in a trance. you sit back down in front of her, grabbing her hand. “sorry about him,” you mumble.

“don’t worry about it. i think that him telling me i should ask you on a date first,” she says, looking up at your through dark lashes.

“is that right?” your mirror her words from earlier.

she breaths a little laugh, “yeah. i was thinking dinner, maybe. tomorrow? seven?”

“tomorrow at seven. i’m guessing we’re not having italian because it’s definitely never going to be as good as something you make,” you say.

melissa laughs and nods in agreement. she glances at the decorations and sign on the table, “we should probably finish that.”

you spend the next hour finishing everything up, only talking about little things. both of you wanted to save everything else for the date, something you had both silent agreed upon. when melissa was leaving, she looked back at you for a moment before saying, “i’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow. i’ll text you where we’re going once i find something.”

you smile, “sounds perfect. i’ll see you at seven, melissa.”

melissa sits in her car in the parking lot for a solid five minutes just grinning like a fool to herself. she wished she had sucked it up sooner and admitted it but she would change anything, not when she finally got her chance.

yeah went a little ham on this one. anyways thank you so much for the request i hope you liked it :) title is from flaming hot cheetos by clairo

as always, feedback is appreciated

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary

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stephiethewephie · 3 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIPER!!!

MY BABY IS OFFICIALLY A YEAR OLDER EVEN THOUGH SHE NEVER GETS OLDER!!!

I thought I would give her the ole Night Raven College treatment and give her some birthday lines if she had them!

Enjoy and happy birthday to this special little lady!

Birthday Login Message:

Good morning! How are you today?...

Huh?! Oh! You remembered it was my birthday today! Well, thank you so much!

I have some things I need to get done today… but maybe we can do something afterward… If you’re okay with it that is!

PIPER: BIRTHDAY GIRL CARD Voice Lines:

When summoned: You’re here to celebrate my birthday?... Well, I guess I can’t say no to that!

Summon Line: I’m not used to having people come over for my birthday, so please be patient with me! Let me know if you have anything planned!

Groooovy!!: Thank you for all the birthday wishes… They mean more to me than you think!

Home: I think all birthdays should be celebrated like this!

Home Idle 1: At home, when I was little, I usually spent my birthdays in the woods with my stuffed animals! We’d have cake and party hats and... I wouldn’t call it lonely, they were plenty of fun!

Home Idle 2: Ace and Deuce were the first to run up and say happy birthday to me. Ace gave me a deck of cards with cartoon animals on them and Deuce gave me a stuffed chick with the shell still on its head. I love having friends like them!

Home Idle 3: Just because it’s my birthday doesn’t mean I can’t be of assistance. Do not hesitate to ask me if you need anything!

Home Idle - Login: At boarding school, no one really cared for each other’s birthdays unless they were close friends. So, it’s strange to see people acknowledging and wishing me a happy birthday… It’s a little overwhelming, but I’m glad to see things are different here!

Home Idle - Groovy: Of course, I knew that silly-ole-cat, Grim, would try to take a bite out of my cake before cake time. So, I asked Malleus to create a barrier around the cake so he couldn’t get to it… I think it’s how Malleus remembered my birthday was today!

Home Tap 1: I think Kalim overestimated what I meant when I said I used to have parades during parties. I appreciate the gesture, but my parades were very small and did not have giant elephants… Hefulumps maybe.

Home Tap 2: One of my favorite parts about birthdays and parties has always been balloons! They can be any shape and size and fly high in the sky! No one is unhappy when a balloon is around!... Except if it pops or flies away that is.

Home Tap 3: Jade came up to me today and presented me with a terrarium kit… the interaction made me uneasy… but he seemed delighted to give it to me! Should I talk to him about nature sometime soon?

Home Tap 4: I saw Ortho today! He gave me a plushie of a cute little creature that he said was from a video game where you capture creatures and make them fight each other. Reminds me of myself and Grim… though for us I would say it’s more of the other way around in who was captured… heh heh.

Home Tap 5: I have only worn outfits like this on special occasions. I guess this is a special occasion, I just haven’t felt that way about today for a long time.

Home Tap - Groovy: You have a gift for me?!.. I’m just a bit surprised considering I’ve never received a gift from anyone outside of my family. I’ll gladly accept it! Thank you!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twst oc #oc #twst mc #my ocs #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #yuu twst #yuu #oc birthday #piper finch

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yoo-jeongneon · 1 year ago

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of record players and things we said after midnight | k.hj, p.sh

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

× main masterlist ×

pairing: kim hongjoong x park seonghwa x gn!reader

genre: slice of life, romance

warnings: established poly relationship, fluff, allusions to sex, alcohol/food/eating, references to rough work schedules and strict sleeping routines, stargazing

word count: 1.1k

a/n: for the wonderful sky, aka @pocketjoong. i really hope you enjoy this short sweet one-shot (and perhaps it is an extremely belated birthday present!) p.s: i don't know if you've seen that poll going round - "is the person you reblogged this from sun/moon etc. coded" - but while of course you are sky coded, you are very star coded to me: much like a star, whenever you pop up, a smile comes on my face 🫶🫶

00:03. Hongjoong has a plethora of records.

You and Seonghwa know he’d been steadily growing his collection for the last three years. A well-paying job and months of saving paid for his hobby.

Of course, the most expensive thing he needed to buy was a record player to play said discs. Hongjoong had said for the longest time that the vinyls were just aesthetic, and yet he never took his eyes off them when trawling websites into the early hours of the morning.

You and Seonghwa had pulled together enough resources to gift him one for his birthday last year, and it’s sat proudly on his desk in his studio ever since. He’ll never admit to the tears he shed and the two of you will never bring up the fact that you noticed him tucking them under his sleeve.

You both care too much to embarrass him.

-×-

00:27. Seonghwa can’t remember the last time he stayed up so late.

He thanks - or blames - his sleeping schedule for sending him to bed before the clock strikes twelve. It’s a price to pay when the workload is so rough it calls for a routine so strict.

He told himself he could let go this weekend. He’d had too many stresses and with a vacation week right around the corner, he knows he can let it go for a few days.

You let him rest his head on your lap even still, the fatigue catching up when he remembers how many hours he’s spent staring at screens. When you thread your fingers through his hair, it’s a lot softer than you ever remember it being.

A smile lands on your face. “You used the hair mask I bought you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are closed and his breathing is so calm and even. The faint click-clack of Hongjoong messing around on his computer is briefly interrupted.

Seonghwa grins. “I hadn’t pampered myself in some time.”

Hongjoong’s heart swells, as does your own. It’s the kind of care you’re both happy Seonghwa gave himself.

-x-

00:54. You always meld into that one spot on the leather sofa.

Its wrinkles and creases understand your presence. It’s your home away from home, your favourite sweater; anytime Hongjoong finds you sitting there he becomes so overwhelmed, but hides it behind a mere dimpled grin. “That’s become your favourite spot,” he once remarked.

The acknowledgment made you shy. “It’s really nice to sit here.”

Hongjoong would later tell you exactly how that made him feel. He would show you too, breathing fanning on your neck, Seonghwa’s lips on your shoulder.

Seonghwa provides a demo over the track Hongjoong is playing around with; there’s no mic, it’s not being recorded anywhere, but you listen to his quiet humming regardless.

It ticks something in your brain and you throw in some light harmonies. Hongjoong wishes he could capture it but doesn’t move.

That’s a memory he can save for later.

-×-

01:13. The three of you don’t know when it clicked.

There were days you would stroll through the local grocery store as a trio, little fingers hooked together and it didn’t mean a thing. Still, it meant everything.

The simplicity of knowing, the beauty of feeling, it’s never needed any words to make sense of it.

The sense was in the making already.

Ice-cream aisles and mulling over which flavour to get knowing you all have different tastes. Reaching in your pockets and buying for each other because that’s what made you so connected.

It’s only a two-course meal tonight and Seonghwa’s cooking. Hongjoong stirs the pot and you dice the vegetables. Very few words are spoken but that’s how you know your dynamic is to die for.

You press a kiss on both of their cheeks. The three of you don’t know when it clicked.

Perhaps there was nothing to click. The foundation was there already. Their cheeks are warm. You love them.

-×-

01:28. Schedules never allowed for late night delivery.

You’re sitting in different places. No longer on the sofa, no longer resting on the lap, no longer glued to the mouse and keyboard.

But it’s a familiarity even still - you’re in a circle on the floor and Hongjoong is dishing out the meals. Seonghwa offers you some of his food, and you make sure Hongjoong has enough for himself, and Hongjoong fills Seonghwa’s water up so he stays hydrated.

“I should put a record on,” says Hongjoong.

Seonghwa smiles. “Play our favourite.”

-×-

01:42. It’s at times like these you remember why you love each other.

Hongjoong has been told twice to keep his voice down and you’re laughing your head off at a joke Seonghwa told. There’s a mess you have to clean but that can wait a little while.

Hongjoong takes your hand and pulls you close to him. You share a kiss as the low hum of a 70s record plays in the background. Seonghwa soon follows and he’s twirling Hongjoong around in an effort to get him to dance.

Grabbing the camera off the desk, you take so many pictures of this moment.

“What a miracle: Hongjoong’s dancing and Seonghwa isn’t it bed yet!” you chuckle.

They love you so much.

-×-

02:00. There’s a perfect spot outside the studio to look at the stars.

It dawns on all of you that it’s something you’ve never done before. Seonghwa is upset at this fact, and takes this as an opportunity to gather some blankets together and put them down on a grass verge.

When you step outside, it’s incredibly brisk, but one look up and you notice it’s a completely clear night.

As though the clouds knew you had a prior engagement with the stars.

Seonghwa takes a seat in the middle, and taps the two spaces either side of him excitedly.

Hongjoong left the door open slightly, and one of the records was still playing.

You had brought the three beer bottles that you’d ordered with your delivery, but hadn’t opened yet.

As though it was tradition, you open each other’s bottles and clink the necks together to make the most satisfying sound.

With a single sip, Hongjoong exhales. “I hope we can do this more often.”

Seonghwa’s eye catches Orion’s belt. “If it’s clear, perhaps we could do this every night next week.”

You rest your head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, and your hand reaches round to clasp fingers with Hongjoong.

“Let’s toast to a week of clear skies. Maybe the universe will listen.”

You make a toast, and the soft crackles of the record indicate the song is nearing its close.

Against the silence of night, you gaze up at the stars.

-×-

02:20.

Whenever it clicked, you’re glad it did.

× yoo-jeongneon ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #⚡yoo jeongneon⚡

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lostelfwriting · 2 years ago

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Dreamling Christmas Fic

[You can read here or on AO3!]

Dream didn't get it quite right the first December the 24th that he spent with Hob. He arrived late in the evening after giving Hob space to spend the holiday with his friends. Hob smiled at him warmly as he opened the door for Dream. (He learned to knock instead of appearing in the living room for this purpose only – to see Hob's welcoming smiles.) Dream had no reason to suspect that this wasn't how their Christmas was supposed to go.

Dream kissed Hob on the cheek before giving him his present – a silver bracelet, beautiful and just on the side of unearthly to be clear that it was created in the Dreaming but not raise suspicion. It looked gorgeous on Hob's wrist. Dream couldn't stop looking and Hob laughed at him warmly before giving him his gift. He was shy about it, apologetic even, “I didn't know what to get a God”. Dream assured him that he didn't need anything, but that only seemed to make Hob sad, so he quickly changed the topic, opening the sparkly gift bag.

It was a dream catcher. He was familiar with those – they had been around for a long time. Dream smiled and asked if there was a particular dream that Hob wished to catch. Then, they made love on the living room couch, watched a movie, and went to sleep. The day went how Dream expected it to and the following morning as well – Hob made breakfast for them and they ate at the bar isle in the kitchen, barstools dragged close to each other so they could remain snuggled close. Then, Dream returned to his realm, satisfied, but to his shock, a certain air of sadness that Hob refused to acknowledge clung to the human for two weeks after that.

When the next Christmas started approaching, the sadness from last year returned, and Dream was determined to fix whatever mistake he had made. He tried to figure it out alone at first – reading, peeking into people's dreams, researching the modern Christmas traditions. He learned that the holiday was celebrated with one's family and friends, and that gifts were given, and he failed to see where that had gone wrong. There was a bit of confusion about when the gifts were to be unpacked, but Dream doubted that was the problem.

He consulted Lucienne next. Subtly hinted that he would not mind if she took a closer look at Hob's dreams in December – it didn't count as cheating if Dream wasn't the one who was looking, right? She presented him with a short list of gifts that the human might appreciate and a stern, disapproving look.

Dream acquired all of the gifts, not yet decided which one he would give Hob, if all, or just one, or some. He was surprised by the simplicity of the gifts – a heated pillow, something called the gravity blanket, two new sets of pyjamas, an expensive suit (he probably didn't need to get the most expensive one he could find, but Hob deserved the best, and money meant nothing to Dream), warm socks, normal sock, a set of new glasses for Hob's kitchen because one too many have been dropped and broken in the past year.

Could it be the gift, Dream wondered? Hob never took the bracelet off, frequently had it polished, loved it. No, Dream didn't think he went wrong with the gift last year. It was time to do the one thing he feared – consult Matthew, a friend and former human.

When even the raven seemed stunned by the fact that Hob didn't enjoy the previous Christmas, even after all the time Dream and Matthew spent picking out the best wrapping paper for the bracelet, Dream began to worry that Hob just didn't like him on that day. But then the bird tilted his head and asked Dream to tell him how the day went one more time.

“Could it be that he wanted to spend Christmas with you? Did he think that you couldn't make time for him?”

“I had asked him how he wanted to spend the holiday. He had said that he would probably do the same as every year.”

Matthew sighed, in the tone that told Dream that he had fucked up. “Yep, he definitely didn't want to bother you or hold you up from your duties. But he wanted to spend Christmas with you.”

Dream still didn't understand. He knew that humans, even Hob, sometimes didn't ask for whate they wanted, especially from their loved ones. Hell, even Dream was guilty of doing that. But… “But we did – we spent Christmas together,” he argued.

If Matthew could roll his eyes, he would. “Christmas is more than just the day and gifts. It's decorating the tree together. Kissing under the mistletoe. Being lazy in the morning and postponing going out to all those parties that you've scheduled because you're just too comfortable. It's the Christmas spirit. You were only there for the main event, but not for—”

Dream didn't hear the rest of it because he knew what he had to do. He would thank Matthew later. First, there was a heated blanket in need of unpacking.

Dream looked out carefully for the day Hob would be decorating the tree. The flat was filled with the sound of Christmas carols and Hob was wearing a horribly ugly sweater and sweatpants. When he opened the door and saw Dream, he was surprised, asked: “What are you doing here? It's 10am.”

“I did not want to miss this,” Dream replied, and by the look on Hob's face that answered exactly zero of Hob's questions. He let himself in, followed by the surprised human. When Dream stood in front of the tree, the scent of fresh pine filling the air, he realized he should have asked Matthew a few follow-up questions.

“It's mostly a matter of improvisation,” Hob said behind him knowingly. “Just take an ornament and put it somewhere. Don't worry about making it balanced or aesthetically pleasing. It'll always look great in the end. Mostly because I have too many ornaments.”

Dream watched carefully as Hob took a little statue of an angel from one of the boxes on the floor and hanged it on a thin branch. He followed the example, carefully handling a glass ornament, for a second admiring the craft that went into it – he could tell it was hand-made, and the creator filled it with their dreams of the winters past. When the ornament was securely hanging on one of the top branches – something so beautiful deserved such high position – Hob spun Dream around and kissed him.

“What was that for?” Dream asked curiously. Not that he'd ever turn down a kiss, but he needed to know if he had done right coming here.

“Because I love you,” Hob replied, grinning. “And also because we will need all the strength we can get to hang all of these,” he gestured to the boxes, and Dream had to admit that there were too many. He had time, though. He would always make time for his greatest friend and lover.

Almost two hours later, the tree was decorated with lights, ornaments, bows and sparkly chains that tickled horribly when Dream touched them. Hob collapsed on the couch after he put all the boxes away, tired. Dream seized his chance, going to one of the living room cabinets with purpose and taking out the gravity blanket. He had summoned it from its hiding space within the Dreaming, but he knew it unsettled humans when things were summoned from thin air, so he tried to take a bit of the mystique out of the gesture.

“Has this always been there?” Hob asked, a smirk on his lips telling Dream that he knew exactly what happened.

“Yes,” the Endless replied stubbornly before covering them both with the blanket. He could not truly enjoy its effects – human-created objects didn't have an effect on him unless he let them, and he was hesitant to let this one affect him – but Hob groaned, melting into the couch.

“I'm never getting up again,” Hob sighed, closing his eyes. He was asleep within a minute, leaving Dream confused. He was hoping for Hob's subtle guidance. Christmas was only two days away and there was so much they needed to do, but Hob was comfortable, and Dream wouldn't want to wake him up even if the house started burning.

Mentally going through the list of traditions they could enjoy together, Dream decided that he could make some dough for cookies. His mind was full of images of happy couples baking together, laughing, singing. He knew Hob would enjoy that – he enjoyed food and enjoyed making Dream try food.

Hob, contrary to his words, managed to free himself from under the blanket about an hour later. He looked like he wasn't sure that he wasn't still dreaming when he saw Dream in the kitchen, carefully kneading homemade dough. But he didn't question it and instead took out a box of cookie cutters from the cupboard and turned on the oven.

Hob's happiness radiated off him for the reminder of the day, and Dream felt happy that his lover was happy. When he had to return to the Dreaming – this was a busy part of the year, after all, and Lucienne would not be pleased if she had to handle it all by herself – there was not a hint of sadness in Hob's heart.

After the success of the previous day, Dream became a bit more at ease. He returned in the afternoon of the next day to watch a movie with Hob, drink hot chocolate and maybe secretly try to peek into Hob’s mind to figure out what the best present would be.

A heated pillow would help with the ache in Hob’s neck, but then Dream’s hands did a much better job with a massage, especially if he made his body slightly warmer than was normal. Hob’s pyjamas needed a refreshment, all of them being threadbare and washed out, but Dream much better preferred him without clothes at night. Socks were cheap, not worthy of Dream of the Endless’s lover. The suit that he had picked out was great, but he wanted to give it to Hob before Christmas, so he could wear it to the party that he was invited to.

Hob seemed happy with the time they spent together, happier even than the previous day. Still, Dream was worried about the upcoming day. He spent the time in the Dreaming distracted, his work taking twice the amount of time it should. But in the end, all dreams were ready for the big day, ready to help children all over the world sleep peacefully and dream. Nightmares were ready for people what needed the final push to decide to turn their life around. (And for people who Dream didn’t like.) Dream would, of course, be present to supervise, at least for a couple hours. But first, he needed to drop by the waking world and give Hob the suit.

“I will be back in an hour,” he informed Lucienne before grabbing a fistful of sand from his pouch. He noticed her stern gaze and held off. “What?” he asked.

“You will be back?” she raised her eyebrows. “It is Christmas, and everything is ready. Won’t you spend the time with your companion? Is that not why you had been working so hard the past days?”

With a confused frown, Dream nodded. “It is. So I can spend most of the day with him. But he is visiting some friends, first.”

Lucienne was about to give it to him gently – he could see it in her eyes, the understanding and sympathy. Matthew was faster. “Boss,” he said sternly. “Don’t you dare leave him alone on Christmas.”

Dream did not understand. Hob would be the opposite of alone. But he did not want to admit to his confusion in front of his subjects, so he nodded. “It seems I won’t be returning until tomorrow, Lucienne,” he nodded to her, and then left.

Hob was not surprised when he opened the door. He grabbed Dream by the lapels of his coat and pulled him inside, kissing him until they were both out of breath. “Nice to see you,” he panted against Dream’s lips when they parted.

Dream, ever the clueless idiot around his immortal lover, didn’t know how to react lest he caused Hob to arrive late. “I have something for you,” he said, pressing the suit into Hob’s arms. “For the party.”

“It’s more of a brunch,” Hob laughed, struggling to see what he was looking at until his eyes finally found shape in the mass of rich fabrics. His eyes widened.

“Wear it today, please,” Dream said before Hob could start arguing that it was too expensive. Still, the human frowned, scowling at the brand at the collar of the suit jacket. Dream made the words disappear off the tag with a wave of his hand, which didn’t impress Hob. “Please,” he repeated. “For me.”

Finally, Hob relented, going to the bedroom to change out of his slacks and light blue shirt into the suit. Dream waited somewhat impatiently, trying not to peek into the room, hiding in the shadows that were always all too happy to serve him. Finally, Hob walked out, and Dream forgot to breathe.

There was a remark on Hob’s lips, but it died before it could be given voice. He tilted his head and watched Dream curiously while the Endless took in the look. Did Hob know how much it pleased Dream to see Hob in the clothes that he had given him? He couldn’t have. Dream never said so and he tried not to make a habit out of dressing his lover in expensive robes. The modern era no longer called for gestures like that. Yet, there was a smirk on Hob’s face as he reached up to play with his ear nervously, the bracelet peeking from under his sleeve, pulling Dream’s eyes to it like magnets.

“I will be severely overdressed,” Hob said finally.

“We will be,” Dream corrected. It was a subtle question, and when a grin spread on Hob’s face, he finally made his mind. He would be happy to wait for Hob at home, but maybe Hob really wanted him to come to the party.

“Go change, then,” Hob urged him. “We really need to go.”

Dream nodded and walked to the bedroom, changing within the blink of an eye into an equally fancy suit. His was black, though, while Hob’s was grey. When he walked out again, the human whistled.

Dream knew some of the people they met at the brunch. Hob introduced him to the rest, presenting him as his mysterious boyfriend. Those who had never seen Dream before laughed and the rest rolled their eyes fondly. The atmosphere of the party was strange, lacking the Christmas spirit that Dream had learned to look out for. Hob later explained that it was a work thing, not everyone was friends and some people barely stood each other.

They headed to the New Inn next. There were only two people working, those who volunteered or even insisted, because Hob wouldn’t force anyone to work on that day. Their patrons and friends came to celebrate with them, bringing a much more pleasant atmosphere. Dream dared to be bold, taking Hob by the elbow and leading him to an archway where a small piece of mistletoe was hanged. He kissed him much longer than was appropriate and much less than he truly wanted.

Hob was teary-eyed the rest of the time. Soon, people started filtering out to spend the day with their families, and the New Inn was empty by 2pm. Dream helped Hob clean up after they shooed the remaining employees away to go home and celebrate, and then they went upstairs.

It was different than last year. Dream was confident when he helped Hob fix them a nice dinner, didn’t pause to seek Hob’s guidance as he opened a bottle of wine for them, and after they ate, he knew it was the perfect time to bring Hob to the tree and present him with a sparkly gift bag.

“Don’t tell me you have any more gifts!” Hob groaned, but he was laughing, his eyes shining like stars and fond.

Dream frowned. He didn’t— Right, the suit. He counted that as a gift to himself more than Hob. And the blanket was a gift, but it helped Hob sleep, so it was more for Dream, again. He shook his head. “I know you will love this one,” he promised, ignoring Hob’s “I loved all of them.”

When Hob opened the bag, he started laughing. The tears finally spilled from his eyes, and for a horrific moment, Dream was scared that he had miscalculated. But then he received the sweetest kiss he had gotten in all of his entire existence, and his nerves were calmed.

“How did you know I ran out of nice socks?” Hob asked, digging through the endless number of socks in the bag. (Maybe not endless, but this would last him for years to come.)

Dream could say something like lucky guess, or admit to cheating and peeking into Hob’s dreams, but in the end, all he had to do was pointedly look down at Hob’s bare feet, a toe poking out of the tip of his black sock.

“Right,” the human chuckled and kissed Dream again. Then he sighed, for a moment showing a hint of sadness – melancholy, Dream recognised – before his face filled with overwhelming happiness. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I haven’t had a nice Christmas in years.”

Nice Christmas. Dream smiled. Yes, he thought. I have made this day nice.

#dreamling #maybe in a century Dream will finally realise Hob loves him #christmas fic #fluff #gen rated #my writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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