#oh and also trying to come up with a unique tag for them

[scarycranegame]

anyone else do this?

antis dni, what you have there is an unwarranted sense of self-righteousness, not anything of real value

proship/comship/pro-fiction safe!

[kitkatkitzune]

MUSE

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!witch!reader

Summary: Always the artist, never the muse… until now that is… sorta?

Warnings: A tiny bit of Angst, Death, Mentions of painting with blood, Inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (whoopsie)

Notes: First post of the new year!

After a lot of consideration I have decided that I am not going to be making a tag list at this point in time. I am simply not organized enough for it, maybe sometime in the future but not now! I’m sorry! If you’d like to be notified when I post you can turn on notifications… sorry again!

Word Count: 1.5k

———————

You hum as you walk around the Mikaelson home, stopping every few moments to admire the paintings hung around the house. Some of the paintings were incredibly old and some were only made a few years ago, and all of them had been made by the hybrid.

There was at least one of each sibling, Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, and even Finn. Freya had also gotten a painting after her return. However, there was someone missing.

There was not a single one of Klaus hung around the home, he wasn’t even in the large family portrait at the end of the hallway. You come to a stop in front of it, tilting your head in confusion.

You don’t get long to ponder the thought as a familiar voice cuts through the silence, “Admiring the artwork, love?”

Turning, you face Klaus with a small smile, “Yes, everything is so beautiful… you’re incredibly talented.”

He hums, taking a step backwards, “Come, I’ll show you my studio.” he beckons you to follow, holding out his hand for you to take.

After a moment's hesitation, you take his hand, allowing him to whisk you away to the art room. The room was isolated, far away from the rest of the rooms in the house. You could tell that this is where Klaus goes to clear his head, when he needs a moment to himself. You couldn’t help but feel honored that he brought you here.

He smiles, “Take a look around…”

You begin to look around the room, admiring the different paintings and drawings all around. Every one was unique in its own way but they were all so Klaus.

There were even paintings in blood, you assumed that the blood used had come from one of Klaus’ many victims. You hover your hand near the canvas, it was of an angel. Ironic. There was something about the painting that you couldn’t shake though, it looked so familiar.

“An angel of death? Since it’s in blood?” you question, quietly.

“Sometimes,” Klaus murmurs in your ear, causing you to jump, you had been too distracted by the paintings to notice how close he had gotten, “inspiration strikes at the strangest times, even while I’m slaughtering my enemies.”

“It’s beautiful…” you smile softly, tilting your head to look at him.

“It’s yours,” he says instantly.

“Oh Klaus, I couldn’t…” you trail off, your eyes catching another painting behind him.

You quickly move to the other side of the room to get a closer look, it was of you.

You look back at Klaus, who, for once in his life, looks a bit nervous, “You weren’t intended to see that yet…”

“You painted me?” you ask in a whisper.

Klaus smiles, regaining his confidence, “Well, I paint you quite often,” he makes his way to you in a split second, “Your beauty is something I enjoy capturing… although, no painting will ever compare to the real thing.”

Your face heats up a bit at his words and you sputter trying to find a response, Klaus however grins, responding before you can, “I don’t know if you picked up on it… but the frame on this was is the same as the other ones displayed, I plan to hang this one in the hallway with the rest of the family portraits….”

Your brows furrow, letting out a small laugh, “I’m not a Mikaelson, Nik.”

“No, but you practically live here, practically family at this point.”

“I suppose that’s true.” you let out a little laugh before frowning, “but what about you?”

“What about me?”

You roll your eyes at his question, “All these paintings, Nik, and not a single one of you.”

He smiles but you swear you see a flicker of hurt pass his eyes, “I’m the artist.”

“And?”

Klaus sighs, “I’ve simply never had the urge to paint myself… I prefer to paint other things.”

You knew there was a deeper meaning to his words and reading between the lines you were quickly able to figure it out. Klaus painted beautiful things, even in his most chaotic works there was beauty, whether it was landscapes or a pretty girl— he painted things he liked, things he loved.

His whole life, Klaus had felt like an outsider in his family, he was the half-sibling, the hybrid, the bastard child. He felt that he did not deserve to be painted, to be hung on the wall with his siblings, and you would make it your mission to show him just how wrong he was.

As it turned out, painting was a lot harder than it looked. You had gone through at least ten canvases over the past week, all containing painted scribbles of the original hybrid and you were growing increasingly frustrated. Klaus always made it seem so simple but it was anything but.

After numerous attempts at recreating his face and failing miserably, you decided to cheat.

There were spells for death, aneurysms, memory, you name it— there was a spell for it. It took time but eventually, you found one for painting. It helped you create a spectacular painting of Klaus. You use the term ‘help’ when in reality, the spell did most of the work.

You were ecstatic to show him the painting, holding the canvas close to your chest as you reached the art room.

“Nik?” you call out quietly, entering the room.

He hums, setting down his paint brush, he was working on a landscape painting. He turns to you, raising a brow when he sees you’re carrying something.

“I’ve brought you something…”

“You’ve got my attention.” he stands up from his stool as you hand him the canvas.

He flips it over and reveals the painting of himself, a small smile appears on his face. Suddenly, his brows furrow, causing you to gulp.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s excellent, love, I just wasn’t aware that you painted.”

“Oh,” your face heats up, “I don’t, not really… it’s just, you deserve a painting too… just because you’re the tortured artist type doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be captured and immortalized in art…”

Klaus surprises you by pulling you against him in a tight hug, “Thankyou.” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your head.

You freeze in shock but, after a moment you relax, “Of course…”

When he finally pulls back, he stares down at the painting before finally looking at you, “I know that you did not paint this though.”

“I- What do you mean?“

He clicks his tongue, “Artist, remember? I assume you used a spell, little witch?”

You sigh, “Well yes, but I just wanted to paint you and I couldn’t do it! It’s incredibly difficult! I tried my best but everytime I just ended up with scribbles!”

“Scribbles?”

“Yes! Scribbles!” you grab his hand, dragging him to your room to show him the failed paintings.

As expected, Klaus cackles at your failed attempts making you pout, “I did try!”

His laughter quickly subsides at your protest, “I know you did, it’s just… I think we should hang this one up,“ he holds up one of the paintings, “although, people may think Hope painted it.”

“Don’t be mean…” you cross your arms, looking away from him.

Klaus frowns, setting the paintings down, he approaches you and places his hands on your arms, uncrossing your arms, “I’m only teasing, I think that it’s quite sweet.”

Finally, you turn back and look at him, trying to hold your angry expression but fail. The two of you stand there for a moment in silence, just staring at each other until finally, Klaus moves. He dips his head, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns heated, his hands find their way to your waist and he pulls you flush against him.

You tug on his hair and he groans at the feeling, sliding his hands to the back of your thighs. He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the nearest wall causing a few things to rattle, including the painting made in blood. It fell to the ground, making you both break apart at the sound.

“That painting…” you mumble, out of breath, “It’s still so familiar…”

Klaus smirks, setting you back on the ground, “I thought you’d have figured it out by now…” he brushes some of the hair from your face, “It’s you, you’re the angel… I made that the day we first met. When you were surrounded by those vampires… and with a flick of your wrist all of their heads exploded, coating you in their blood. I had never seen a sight so beautiful…”

“That is… so messed up…” you breathe out, “but so hot.”

And with that, you grab his face and slam your lips to his. You truly were his muse, and he was yours… sort of?

Bonus!

You sit at the dining room table, coloring with Hope and Klaus. Rebekah was braiding Hope’s hair and Elijah sat at the head of the table drinking his coffee while looking over the newspaper when Kol came waltzing into the room.

Kol smiles, “I saw your new painting Hope, it’s lovely.”

Hope tilts her head, “What painting?”

Elijah answers before Kol can, “The portrait of Niklaus in the hallway.”

Your eyes widen and you immediately look at Klaus who is smirking at you.

“You ass!” you take the crayon you were currently holding and throw it at him, causing him to cackle.

“I told you I’d hang it up!”

[aventurineswife]

can you write how any of the om brothers would react with a bimbo(in a gn way) mc. like they are stunning and so so sweet.. but just so fucking stupid it's honestly astounding .

Obey Me! Brothers with a Thembo!MC

Tags: Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader, Thembo!MC/Reader, Fluff, Soft Romance, Comedy, Protective Characters, Domestic Moments, Gentle Teasing, Affectionate Dynamics, Wholesome Vibes, Slice of Life.

[Obey Me! Side Characters ver]

Lucifer

At first, Lucifer is utterly baffled. How can someone so stunning be so naive? He’ll try his best to guide you, carefully explaining things, but after a few blank stares, his frustration will start to show. He’s constantly torn between wanting to help and wondering if you’re messing with him. Eventually, though, he finds your innocence endearing and even refreshing. He’ll start sticking around more, ready to gently steer you away from trouble—often with an exasperated sigh, but always with a soft, knowing smile reserved just for you.

“MC, I asked you to write your name at the top of the form. Not sign it. And why ‘Beautiful Genius’? ... Never mind, just—please, no more surprises, alright?”

Mammon

Mammon is immediately charmed and overwhelmed. He’s head over heels for your sweetness and good nature, but it never ceases to amaze him just how oblivious you are. He’s fiercely protective of you, always standing up for you when others might tease. While he loves bragging about your beauty and kind heart, he conveniently leaves out the moments when he’s had to explain the simplest concepts. Your innocence and cheerful demeanor are his favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“You really gotta stop givin' stuff away for free, MC! And what’s with buying a lamp for 100,000 Grimm? 'Cause it’s shiny? Come on, you're better than that!"

Leviathan

Levi is completely flustered by your innocence. He’s used to complex strategies and serious gaming, so interacting with you is like trying to explain the basics of a game to a toddler. Despite that, he finds your undivided attention both adorable and overwhelming. Every time you cheer him on—even when he’s just rambling about something nerdy—he melts a little. Your constant sweetness makes him feel warm inside, even if you don't understand half the things he says.

“W-Wait, you’re cheering me on? We’re just in practice mode, MC… No, no need to bring snacks—oh, but you did anyway? Thanks, I guess?”

Satan

At first, Satan tries to keep his composure, despite how shocked he is by your cluelessness. He’ll be patient, explaining things in detail, even as you misunderstand or misinterpret. Instead of getting frustrated, though, he finds your quirks fascinating and kind of endearing. If anyone dares to mock you, (Satan’s wrath is swift and brutal). Over time, he comes to cherish your unique interpretations of things and even looks forward to them.

“MC, Shakespeare isn’t a vegetable… Wait, you want to make a ‘Hamlet salad’? No, that’s not what—oh, you know what? Fine, let’s just read it together.”

Asmodeus

Asmo is completely smitten with you. He’s in awe of your beauty and your adorably naive misunderstandings. Every time you misinterpret something, he finds it endlessly amusing. He’s always showering you with compliments and making sure you feel appreciated. He’s also more than happy to explain anything you don’t understand, often in the most dramatic and theatrical ways. Asmo is incredibly proud of you and loves showing you off—though maybe not when you mistake sunscreen for tea.

“Darling, you’re absolutely stunning, but sunscreen goes on your face, not in your tea. What kind of skincare routine is that?!”

Beelzebub

Beel is the epitome of patience. He loves how sweet and genuine you are, and he’s more than happy to help you out when things go over your head. If you ever get confused or make a mistake, Beel gently explains things without ever getting frustrated. He loves spending time with you, and even when you accidentally order fifty cakes, he’s just happy to be there with you. Honestly, he thinks there’s no such thing as too much cake, especially when it's more for the two of you to share.

“MC, when they asked if you wanted one dozen or two, they meant for you to eat, not order. But hey, no big deal… More for us, right?”

Belphegor

Belphie finds your innocence a little amusing at first. He’s smug about it, especially when you come to him with questions that seem too simple for him to answer. But underneath the teasing, he secretly finds your sweet, untainted view of the world a nice contrast to the chaos around him. He’ll never let anyone else make fun of you, and over time, he actually starts finding your quirks comforting. He’ll tease you about your little missteps, but he can’t help but keep some of your adorable misunderstandings as little mementos.

“MC, you’re seriously searching ‘sheep facts’ for me? Yeah, good luck with that… Wait, you actually did? Hah, fine, I’ll keep this list... it’s cute, okay?”

SOMEONE PLZ REQUEST FOR THE UNDATEABLES!! PLZZ IM BEGGING!! I WANNA WRITE FOR MY PRETTY GOTHIC REAPER WIFE, WANNA WRITE FOR ANGEL HUSBAND WHO LOVES SOLOMON'S COOKING AND THE THAT BARNEY LOOKING AHHH DUDE!!! (JK I LOVE MEPHISTO TOO!!! 🤭💜) 🛐🫣

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

okay so full transparency: i've never really read much fic. i don't have a ton of free time set aside for creative/recreational purposes and the time i do have, i use to write because that just fills me up a lot more. however, i made a commitment to consume more fan-created work in 2024 and i succeeded in that!!! there were still periods where i wasn't able to read much, which has lead to an ever-growing tbr, but i wanted to take a moment at the beginning of this new year to share a hodge-podge of some (completed) fics that wow'ed me this year. a great deal of these are several years old and likely 'old news,' but i got to experience their magic for the first time in 2024 and want to spend some time showing them some love!!! in no particular order:

in losing grip by @keep--driving - 2024 was the year of me learning to love a good second chances au. this fic has all the trope-y goodness you could ever want, along with toe-curling kiss scenes, the perfect kind of humour that makes you squeal into your pillow or porridge or wherever you find yourself, and characters that you just love and root for so easily. i especially loved her take on james and lily's mums and the ways they navigate the world with and beside their children. i read a large chunk of this fic on my kindle as i pushed a stroller this autumn and i will forever associate it with peace and calmness. i'll be re-reading it soon!!!

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by lizardcookie - enter: the other trope i fell in love with in 2024—failed friends with benefits. the way this fic deals with grief in such a poignant, devastating, incredible way had my jaw on the floor. yes there is sexy jily, but there is also giggly jily and insecure jily and scared jily and earnest jily and oh mannnn this is the good ish. the small detail of lily coming around to sirius and james both through her help with the flying motorbike. i love the minute breakdown of lily's thick walls until they come tumbling down and james is right there, waiting, as he always is, patient and Good.

i would drink a case of you, darling by treacherous_talks - one of the tags on this fic is "a good old fashioned 'lily and james get together fic' because there aren't enough of them" so obviously i was in from the jump. this magical fic does such an excellent job at highlighting exactly what it means to be a teenager with a crush on another teenager who you think has a crush on you but you're not completely sure and so you can't ruin it because what if you're wrong. that is such a jily sweet spot i don't often see done as well as it is in this fic!!!

poison of trust by soopsiedaisies - not a jily fic! gasp! in fact, it's remus and sirius (not wolfstar) who are actually not usually as compelling a relationship as some of the other marauder era possibilities. but this fic made me eat my words because it is delicious. the part that i literally included in my ao3 bookmark and that i think about all the time is when remus tries to accuse sirius of equating harry and james and sirius says, oooooh i have chills thinking about it, "i dare you to finish that sentence." YES guarddog sirius black! his position as sole protector of the potter family will never not be important to me and this fic highlights that in such a unique and compelling way.

bad day wall by @apalapucian - there's nothing i could say about this incredible fic that hasn't been said, and recently, but truly—jayne is such a phenomenal wordsmith. this has a dash of 'texting fic,' but make it canon compliant and so beautiful it makes you wanna diiiiiie. the blackevans is unmatched, of course. but james's head-over-heels-ness for lily also has to be mentioned. i love every single one of his batty contributions to the bad day wall as he mopes and wades through all the chaos of trying (and failing) to get over lily evans.

The Guide to Becoming a Better Man for Lily Evans by bronzeagepizzeria - the shirtless james potter agenda is quite special to me, which needs to be stated right out the gate, really. the shirtless james potter who is shirtless on purpose just to get under his dream girl's skin agenda is an ascension i have yet to come back down from.

Of Chrysalism by @maraudersftw - i shall give you this, line, dangling on a stick as a perfectly buttered and garlic'ed (??) carrot, enticing you to cast your cares aside and come read this fic: "He’s spoilt, and persistent, and endearing, and she’s hopeless." like??????? yeah. okay. sure. i'll pretend that i'm capable of returning from that in this lifetime. but actually: james "my feelings matter, too" potter is so important and i love the agency this fic gives him!!!

Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub by @bcdaily - i think i read this years ago. perhaps. idk i was basically a baby when it was published in 2012. but i recently stumbled upon it (again? maybe?) and just absolutely devoured it. this is quintessential jily to me, in each iteration, as they grow and learn each other and finally, finally, finally choose each other. each of these scenes is so carefully crafted to showcase really important moments in their relationship, but does it using really unimportant moments, which is genius. it's the grand fromage of showing, not telling, and this would absolutely be the first week assigned reading on my syllabus if i got to live out my dream as a professor on jily.

say goodbye to my heart tonight by spinawren - my bookmark for this was literally just "SQUEEEEEEE" and i don't exactly know what i meant by that, but i think it's more eloquent than anything i could come up with here. the premise of this fic is genius: james and lily repeatedly having 'one-night stands' with each other until they realise they've accidentally started dating. but james potter's devotion to being in lily evans' presence is what makes this fic belong on the top shelf!

Bluebird by ocean_away - whewwww, this fic knocked me back in a way i didn't expect. it's a second chances fic of a different calibre all around, but what stands out to me the most in this particular fic is the way james and lily are both shown to so seamlessly grow. they begin as two broken, purposefully hurtful individuals (read: teenagers) and become young adults who choose goodness and each other over and over, even though it's not easy. i feel proud of them, when i read this fic. what a labour of love for our favourite couple.

The Way the Light Looks by @stonecoldhedwig - i have nothing more to say about this fic than this: BEST KISS SCENE I HAVE EVER AND WILL EVER READ!!!!!!!!!!!

Whispers in the Dark by @yallthemwitches - okayyyy so it's difficult to choose just one of tay's fics, but this is such a stand-out to me. friends to lovers!!!! james "but i've never lied to you" potter, i want to kiss you on the MOUTH! he's so earnest, so pure, so "no actually i just wanted to see you" when he has no business being such a sweetheart. honourable mention: the beyond-precious proposal scene at the end.

Love is Complicated by @theesteemedladydebourgh - this fic feels like sitting in the most beautiful library in the world watching rain trail down the ornate, darkened windows—and then the hottest professor on earth walks up to you and snogs you without preamble. except it's made better by the fact that he is somehow both james potter and an indiana jones variant? listen. just read it. then squeal and kick your feet with me, okay?

Sunshine in my Eyes by monroeslittle - another fic i devoured on my kindle this year (but definitely not during standardised testing at school when i was supposed to be actively monitoring teenagers for academic integrity and technically signed an oath that i locked all my electronics in the closet). ahem. this is some of the most rewarding angst i have ever read, which is genuinely some of the highest praise i could ever bestow on someone. lily going to james for lessons on how to kiss and the entire scene that follows will follow me forever. they're so endearing and sweet and did not deserve all they went through. but. angst with a happy ending xx

[teencopandthesourwolf]

FUCK IT FRIDAY

i was tagged by the lovely @demonicfaerie (thanks, fae!) to share a current WIP so here's some of a mild blood kink slash beta shift derek slash frotting in the forest PWP kind of fic. it has the terribly imaginative working title of 'BLOODY MONSTER FUCKER STILES FULL MOON FIC' lmao.

this excerpt is SFW.

.

It's a balmy Tuesday evening in April when Derek realises he wants to taste Stiles's blood.

The notion comes to him not as some strange intrusive thought, or a guilty dream, or Anne Rice-induced moment of madness, but at the first scent and sight of it trickling down pale wrist bone and two large knuckles, to then drip from the tips of the boy's spider leg fingers.

Having neutralised the threat of what they thought might be a Vigilantes Oscuros but actually turned out to be a rogue Nagual, and once Derek satisfies himself by checking over and scenting the rest of the pack who are thankfully all mostly unscathed, he stalks over to where Stiles is standing, his chest heaving with the aftermath of their victory.

“Hey, big guy, d'you wanna—”

He trails off when Derek takes the bleeding arm in both of his hands. He lifts Stiles's shirt sleeve and—sighing with relief at the injury being merely a flesh wound—begins to syphon off most of Stiles's pain, to which Stiles answers by seemingly sighing his own breath of relief.

Derek hesitates for one thrilling moment—before he's opening his mouth, only to close it again when he clamps it gently around the sticky mess of Stiles's skin, Alpha-gaze never leaving big brown Bambi eyes that are shining with the godly reflection of the full moon.

As he does it, Stiles's own mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Surprisingly, the only other thing he has to offer Derek is an uncharacteristically quiet and breathy “Oh,” which Derek boldly takes as permission to start sucking at Stiles's skin, delighting at the gooey texture and unique flavour of the blood that overwhelms his tongue and taste buds and feelings.

It's all at once that he hears Isaac’s wolf-whistle and Scott's, “Ew!” and Allison's, “Um?” and Lydia's, “Told you,” that she aims at Jackson who just scoffs, and Derek doesn't need to be looking at Boyd to know that Boyd is looking at Erica to try and convince her not to smugly say, “You owe me twenty dollars, babe,” which she obviously says anyway.

Derek growls, then, loud enough to feel Stiles's trembling in his teeth, and for the rest of the gossipy pack to shuffle off through the trees before Derek can threaten to make them shuffle off this mortal coil if they don't.

Stiles's ever-sharp eyes—which had been darting about faster than the dragonflies that buzz down by the lake, his gaze landing on one figure and then the next as Derek's irritating pack let their irritating thoughts on the situation be irritatingly known—now gradually find their way back to Derek's.

Derek is watching Stiles, carefully. He's transfixed, actually, has been for the entirety of the ongoing exchange. He honestly doesn't believe he could look away if he tried.

Bronze eyes blown wide, Stiles now licks at unbearably pink lips, slowly, his cheeks doing their best to match the hue.

Taking the action for what he hopes it is, Derek starts to suck at the boy's skin some more, sampling his prize—before he's having to pause to swallow the pool of tangy red that's gathered underneath his tongue.

Then he knows, deliciously, that Stiles's treacly blood tastes like sodium and iron, but also like fresh earth and dew drops and mine.

When the kid's heart picks up the pace to a speed even more Springbok than usual, Derek releases the vacuum of his claret-tinged lips with a resonating pop. The sound echoes defiantly around the small glade in the northern part of the preserve they're standing in, and Derek's wolf prances and preens.

The moon is singing to him as he waits impatiently, preparing to be challenged on what the human probably thinks of as shockingly beastly behaviour.

Only Stiles doesn't challenge it. He doesn't say anything at all, weirdly, opting instead to brutally gnaw on that unbearably plump bottom lip of his, shiny eyes misting over as his chemo-signals spike and morph into something smoky-sweet that reminds Derek of incense and trailing mandevilla and sex.

Derek's vision shudders for a beat as his synapses start firing ten to the dozen—causing his eyes to flash impossibly redder than red, the glare from them illuminating Stiles's features in the gloom.

It looks, and feels, like magick.

With his mouth watering and gums tingling, Derek perceives Stiles's inaction to mean he's maybe allowed to do the thing he really fucking wants to. So, he decides to try his luck.

Derek starts to lick, cleaning up the scarlet streaks staining Stiles's milky skin.

When the boy's mouth falls open for a breathy sound to punch its way out of what Derek is suddenly considering an incredibly biteable throat, he starts lapping away in earnest at the trails of spilt blood in long and deliberate strokes, flattened tongue running up and down, up and down, washing clean lean muscle and dark hair and those pretty peppered moles, warming the cold pebbles of Stiles's gooseflesh as he goes.

Stiles keeps swallowing the saliva that Derek can hear is flooding his mouth, his breath hitching and hiccuping.

Derek's mouth doesn't form an ‘O’ but his mind does flicker into action with alluring and morish images as his wolf tries to will him to flop bonelessly into the scrub and roll around in the dirt and howl, howl, howl, all wild and feral and fierce. It's urging him for more; pleading with him to try; begging him to cry out with his wants and desires to lead Stiles into the deep, dark indigo of the creeping night where Derek is most at home—and he's really not sure why, but for once in his woefully shitty life Derek just allows himself to think fuck it and do exactly that.

So he howls and breaks the bones of dusk as he selfishly and gleefully drags the sheriff's son down onto the damp, ash-laden ground of his dead family's land.

And Stiles—for all of his usual brashness and caustic pride—lets him.

.

(tags beneath the cut, play or nay. anybody else who wants to do the thing, pls just consider yourself tagged and have at it!)

@shealynn88 @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @raisesomehale @princecharmingwinks @ohhalefire @blue-eyedbeta @angela-feelstoomuch @evanesdust @jmeelee @thebigoblin @hedwig221b @isthatbloodonhisshirt

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 1: Introductions✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here is my new club owner Joel series! Thank you to the lovely @janaispunk for making me this beautiful mood board ❤️ Joel Miller is the biggest menace in this one. I wanted to somehow mix a little 50 Shades of Grey but also create something unique and super hot, so hope you enjoy 50 Shades of pleasure dom Joel! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this one! As always, I LOVE writing and hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing and sharing them with you 💕

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 9.7k

Tags: No outbreak au, thigh riding, Joel’s dirty mouth, flirting, pining, fingering

Summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Friday night and instead of sitting down with a cold glass of white wine and a book on the couch, you’re currently standing in a dress that’s too tight and heels so high you think you’ll fall over at any minute. The tight black dress clings to your body like a suction cup, and the slit in the side of your left thigh is almost showing too much skin the more you move around.

You spent the last hour sitting at your glowing vanity, curling your hair into long spirals and putting on smokey dark eyeshadow that makes your eyes stand out and deep red lipstick that sits matted against your lips. This isn’t your usual. You like to stay in after a long week at the library, not go clubbing till 2:00am. You’re not an extrovert like all your friends are, so this is a once in a while thing you even do.

You take one more look at yourself in the mirror and sigh heavily. This will be good for you. You need to socialize. You need to get back into the dating field, but that honestly just sounds like a nightmare right now. Dating in general just sucks. It’s like no man knows how to even properly treat a woman nowadays. Your last boyfriend was a complete nightmare. Tall, lanky, sports obsessed, demanded blowjobs without even offering to go down on you once. That’s how all the guys had been in the past, and you were honestly just over it. Fuck men.

Before you can get all worked up about past boyfriends, you head to your apartment door when you hear a sharp knock and giddy laughter on the other side. That meant the girls were here. Here goes nothing. When you open the door, Brianna and Taylor lose it when they see what you’re wearing.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Brianna screams as Taylor twirls you around to get a good look at you. Brianna’s soft brown eyes and long blonde curls look you over from head to toe. “You’re such a babe! And that dress? God, it makes your ass look so good and that slit in your dress?! You are definitely going to get laid tonight,” she shrieks as she gives you a quick hug hello.

“Bri, stop!” you laugh, shaking your head no. “I am not getting laid tonight. I’m so over guys,” you cringe as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please. All the men are going to be looking at you tonight, you little slut!” Taylor smirks as her green eyes sparkle like emeralds when she looks at your short dress. Her pinned up red hair sits perfectly in a messy bun atop her head, her white heels digging into the wooden floor as she circles you.

“No, guys. Really, I don’t need to try to find someone tonight. I’m only going out because you’re forcing me to,” you complain with a huff.

“Sure, babe. That vibrator that sits in your nightstand isn’t gonna get you anywhere fast. You need to be laid properly. So we’re gonna find you a man tonight if it’s the last thing we do,” Brianna says with a beam of a bright smile.

“Whatever, let’s just go. I need a drink,” you whine as they pull you out of the comfort of your small apartment and whisk you out the door, shoving you inside the White Cadillac that sits idle on the corner of the curb.

You slump in the front passenger seat as soon as Brianna drives off, entering the busy traffic of Austin as the city lights flash brightly outside the window. You sigh and lean on the edge of the window as Taylor Swift’s “Karma” blasts through the speakers. Taylor and Brianna sing along loudly, but you sit mute with your arms crossed across your chest.

“Oh, cheer up, babe! You’re supposed to be having fun tonight, not brooding in the corner like a pent up prisoner,” Brianna laughs as she hits your arm lightly.

“I’d be in a better mood if I was curled up on my couch with a good book,” you groan as you stifle out another sigh.

Taylor leans over the back of the front seat and takes a good look at you. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. You will have fun tonight whether you like it or not! This club is to die for. I know it just opened last year, but seriously it’s the hottest club in Austin,” she says excitedly with a big grin zipped across her contoured face.

“What’s the name of this club again?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Club Inferno,” Taylor says with a smirk. “Inferno is right. It’s hot as fuck in there, and the men that go are super sexy,” she swoons as she sits back against her leather seat.

“Club Inferno, huh? Wonder how the owner came up with a name like that,” you ask curiously as you focus your sights on the busy sidewalks that are littered with dressed up couples and groups that look like they’re about to head to the club as well.

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe you can ask the owner yourself,” Brianna smirks in the front seat.

“Who’s the owner?” you ask, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t say online, but I hear rumors that he’s ridiculously hot. Like I’m talking about an 11/10 hot,” she smirks as she pulls into a parking spot a few feet from the lit up club.

“Sounds like someone I wouldn’t be interested in. He already sounds arrogant and like all the other men I’ve dated,” you spit out, a snarl hanging on your lips.

“Oh, just shut up and have some fun tonight, please. You’re killing my vibes,” she says as she rolls her eyes and puts the car in park.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll try to have fun,” you sigh as you step out of the car onto the hard concrete, pulling your dress down so it doesn’t ride up and expose too much skin.

“Good, now let’s go drink and dance!” Brianna and Taylor scream together. You just laugh and follow them to the front of the club, stopping at the metallic black double doors as you get your IDs checked. Once they give them back, you step into the club and gasp at the sight.

The inside is absolutely gigantic. The club sits two stories high with a shimmering disco ball hanging in the middle of the crowded dance floor. The walls are pitch black with red glowing signs all around that say “Club Inferno”. The sign that sits behind the bar is also glowing red and says “Sinners Welcome”. The bar has a large mirror splayed across the wall with bottles of beer and liquor stacked high against it. The bar top has a sleek dark wooden hue to it and the bar stools are made of black leather material.

There’s dark booths all around that are marked off for VIP lounges, private parties, or reservations made prior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling as they make shiny patterns on the dark hardwood floors. An open lounge area sits in the opposite corner of the bar where leather couches and small glass tables sit scattered around. You look away when you see a cozy couple making out in a corner of one of the couches and try not to roll your eyes.

When you turn towards the dance floor, you see the glow of fluorescent blue and red flashing lights mix in with the glittering disco ball as the Dj spins some tracks on a large display against the wall. The dance floor is crowded, maybe two-hundred people at the least stand grinding up on each other as Rhianna blasts through the speakers. Two platforms with poles attached to the center sit in the back corners of the room for anyone to use at their leisure.

Behind the bar sits two long, dark hallways with various rooms attached down the shadowed corners of the hallway. A spiral staircase sits next to the second hall and leads up to the second floor. From here you can’t see what all is upstairs, but it looks like another bar sits up there and maybe some pool tables from what you can see. This club wasn’t anything like you expected it to be. You thought it’d be small and maybe less crowded. Boy, were you wrong.

“Don’t you love it in here?!” Taylor asks excitedly as she twirls around in her short forest green strapless dress and pulls you to the dance floor.

“It’s a lot bigger than I imagined it to be,” you shout out loudly against the beat of the music. “Tay, we just got here. Can’t we sit down?” you whine as Brianna pulls you into the middle of the raging crowd.

“Not until after a couple of dances,” Taylor smiles as she pushes her back against a man in a suit that grinds up against his blonde girlfriend. You groan but go along with them.

“Loosen up, hun. The night’s just started. We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you’ll be just fine,” Brianna beams as she grabs a few Jell-O shots from the bartender that makes her away across the busy dance floor. “Drink up!” she yells as she hands you a container of red liquid.

“Fine,” you groan as you pop the shot into your mouth and instantly taste cherry and vodka mixed together. It slides down your throat easily, and you put the empty vial on the bartender’s tray. Taylor and Brianna both cheer after you take the shot and start grinding up against each other as the music switches over to a Beyoncé song.

You decide to try to enjoy yourself and sway your hips, getting into the song as the dance floor rocks back and forth. You keep your focus on the shimmering disco ball and watch the way the sparkling glass reflects off the walls. You keep your eyes from staying too much in the crowd and focus on your friends as they lift their arms and shimmy their hips to the beat.

After a couple of long songs, they agree to take a break and get some drinks. You and Taylor find an empty couch and sit down while Brianna goes up to the bar and orders a round of LITs for the table. After a few minutes, she returns with the glasses of alcohol and passes them out. You take a big gulp and feel the remnants of alcohol run down your throat with a slight burning sensation staying stagnant in your mouth.

“So, see any cute guys you might be interested in?” Taylor asks as she looks around the crowded club, focusing her eyes on a tall man with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. “What about that one, huh? He’s kinda cute,” she says with a flirtatious smile as she eyes him.

You scrunch your nose up and shake your head. “No, Taylor. Not that one. Maybe you can go talk to him. He looks like your type,” you laugh as you watch her eye him up and down. You take another sip of your drink and set it on the glass table as the condensation drips down the glass.

Brianna smirks at you and looks from the bar, back to you a few times. “Bri, what? I know that look. That’s a plotting face you always make when you’re up to no good.”

She just smiles wider. “You see that man at the bar? That one on the left corner with the white collared button-up shirt?” She points him out and you flick your eyes over in that direction nonchalantly.

The man she points out is sitting in one of the barstools and sips casually on a cold glass of what looks to be whiskey. You slowly drag your eyes over him, taking in the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose thick veins that spider all the way down his arms to end in massive hands. His biceps bulge against the cotton material every time he flexes and moves to grab his cold glass of alcohol. His dark blue jeans press up against muscular thighs and a fancy black watch sits latched onto his left wrist. His hair is dark and streaked with grey lines as thick tousled curls sit wildly atop his head. A dark, patchy beard shadows his sculpted, sharp jawlines.

Your eyes move over his greying locks again slowly, taking in the way a couple curls fall against his forehead subtly. His curls look soft to the touch, you almost wonder what it’d be like to run your fingers through his hair or maybe drag your nails against that salt and pepper scruff…

You jolt out of your daydream as his eyes linger over to yours, calmly taking another drink of whiskey as his eyes stay locked on yours. You pull your eyes away and look back at Brianna. “What about him?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“The man hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked into the club,” she giggles as you go wide-eyed.

“Oh, he has not. Please, he’s got to be looking at you or Taylor,” you reply as she looks back up at the bar.

“I don’t think so, honey,” Taylor laughs as she knocks you in the shoulder with her arm. “He’s looking straight at you.”

You look back up and freeze. His dark eyes find yours again as a small smirk appears on the edge of his mouth, curling into something that dares you to challenge his gaze. You suck in a breath and look back down, grabbing your drink as you try to calm your nerves down. Calm down, calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably not even interested in anything you have to say.

“You’re going to go talk to him,” Brianna smiles deviously as she narrows her eyes and smirks up at you.

“What?!” you choke out, the liquid flowing down your windpipes uncomfortably. “No, no way. I can’t.”

“Yes, you are,” Taylor encourages you. “He’s totally gorgeous. Like come on. He’s clearly at least in his upper forties. Older, probably has a lot of money, dresses nicely, and I see no wedding ring on him,” she smirks, eyes darkening as she gets up and pulls you along for the ride.

“No, Tay. Please, I can’t. I’m not…”

She cuts you off as Brianna joins in, pulling you towards the bar as your feet try to stay planted to the spot you’re in. “You’re not what? Look at you, you’re hot. Don’t waste it by being boring. Go talk to him,” she encourages as she pulls you further, halfway to the bar now as you see him in the corner of your vision eyeing you.

“No, guys. Come on. I’m too… I can’t…”

Brianna stops you from saying anything else. “Look, you're going to go talk to him, and he’s going to buy you a drink, and then me and Tay are going to go back out there and dance. And you’re going to go up there and flirt with him and twirl your hair and get his number,” she says seriously as she drags you to the edge of the bar.

“But I… he’s too… I can’t…” you stutter out.

“Go on, babe. You can do it.” Brianna and Taylor give you a hard push and shove you against the edge of the bar, only a few bar stools away from the man with the dark eyes. “Have fun,” Brianna whispers in your ear with a laugh as she grabs Taylor’s hand and leads her away from the bar, leaving you all alone with your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest.

You take a seat on one of the empty black bar stools and rest your arms on the sleek bar top, looking over the menu nervously as you flip through the pages of drinks. You don’t look up, afraid that if you do you’ll lock eyes again with the handsome stranger. No more dating, no more dating, no more dating.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep Southern voice fills your ears as you look up and find the man with dark eyes looking down at you.

Fuck.

“Ummm no,” you answer shyly as you tuck a curl behind your ear, cursing your friends for pushing you into doing this.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod and he pushes back the empty bar stool, lightly brushing his leg against yours as a chill runs down your spine at the contact.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks as he looks you over slowly, making your eyes widen at the action.

“Oh, sure,” you respond meekly, putting the drink menu down before you rip it in half from the way you’re anxiously flipping through the pages.

“So, what’s your drink of choice?”

You muster up an ounce of courage and fire back a question without thinking. “What do you think my drink of choice is?” you ask flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes up at him as if to win him over. Your adrenaline spikes in your body, and it’s as if the alcohol turned you into another girl.

What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t like you. You don’t flirt with men at clubs, especially gorgeous men like him. But he’s so hot, you can’t resist. Fuck.

He chuckles at the question and drags his eyes nice and slow over your body, clenching his jaw up as he concentrates on you. You can see the calculations and assumptions he’s making swirl and tick in his mind. He’ll never guess right. He’s just like any other guy. They all get it wrong, always.

His eyes flick back up to your face as a gentle smile spreads over his mouth, forming dimples that press deep into his cheeks.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Hmmm, let me see,” he starts slow, his words slipping like melted butter off his tongue. “You don’t seem like the type to drink hard liquor. Fireball? Definitely not. Tequila? Can’t see it. But hmmm, let me guess…” He takes another good look at you and stares into your eyes. Those warm brown eyes searing through you as you melt into them.

God, those eyes. Those fucking brown doe eyes.

“Rum? Maybe. Vodka? Most likely. Whiskey… maybe a whiskey girl. But you…” He leans in closer, and you can smell the cologne dripping off his skin. Can practically taste the whiskey that encompasses his lips. Can almost feel how his mouth would taste with his tongue gliding against yours.

You focus on deep breaths as he rests his large hand right next to yours, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against yours as goosebumps start to crawl slowly up your arm. He laughs lightly as he forms a guess with a Southern drawl dripping off his tongue. “Malibu tonic? Guessin’ you’re a fruity cocktail kind of girl.”

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite drinks?” you ask with a wide-eyed stare.

“Just an assumption, sweetheart. I’m pretty good at readin’ people. Especially ones as pretty as yourself,” he smirks, turning toward the bar to call over one of the bartenders.

Sweetheart? Pretty? Oh fuck, you’re in trouble.

As soon as the blonde bartender comes over, he wastes no time and gives her your drink orders. “One Malibu tonic and one Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey on the rocks. Thanks, Hailey,” he smiles softly and nods as she smiles back and turns away, getting the drinks prepared in a flash.

Hailey? Of course he knows her by name. He probably knows every fucking girl in this obscene club by name.

You frown, a tinge of jealousy hitting the back of your closed up throat. But why are you jealous? You don’t care about this man, don’t care if he even buys you a drink. You don’t date, and there’s a reason you don’t anymore. But that’s a dark place you won’t go tonight or ever again.

He notices the shift in your mood as you sit up straighter and clench your jaw into place, focusing on not losing your temper over a simple thing as a name.

“Y’alright there? Look a little tense,” he asks, hovering his thick fingers closer to your hand as you pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” you bite back a little too harshly. He doesn’t respond, only nods. He knows you’re not fine, but he doesn’t press on it.

When the bartender comes over to drop off your drinks, you can’t help but notice the small silver name tag that’s latched on to the front of her black low-cut tank top. The name Hailey is in sparkly letters, and you feel shame instantly cover your face.

You’re a fucking idiot.

You take a sip of the fruity liquid and let it slide down the back of your throat, along with the bitterness and jealousy that was there seconds ago. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already acting jealous? Jesus. You’re in way over your head.

He takes a swig of his amber colored drink and swallows, a gentle smile returning to his handsome face. He sticks out his hand and you take it slowly, feeling the back of his calloused fingers as they burn into your hand, simmering like a hot fire as it runs through your veins. It’s firm, strong, powerful. And you know. You know you’re in trouble.

“The name’s Joel. What’s yours, sweetheart?” His hand lingers maybe a little too long in your hold, but you don’t shake him off. You just let him drop it when he’s ready, feeling the now cold hand as you flex your fingers into a fist in your lap, trying to remember exactly how his hand fit perfectly in yours.

You tell him your name, and it floats like a siren’s song off his lips, a trance like lull that sucks you in. “That’s a pretty name, darlin’. You come around here much? Haven’t seen you before. Think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours,” he says with a smirk, his coffee colored eyes focused on you. You have to work hard to find words before you lose all control of your voice.

Pretty? Oh, he’s laying it on thick.

“No, but sounds like you’re a usual here. You come here a lot or something?” you ask, eyes fixed on the way he holds his crystal glass with a strong grasp.

“Somethin’ like that,” he chuckles, a look like he knows something you don’t displaying on the lines of his forehead.

“Of course you do. Not me, this is my first time here,” you say as you shift uncomfortably in your bar stool.

“And? How d’you like it?” he asks with questions lingering in his bright eyes.

“Honestly? It’s okay. It’s a little loud for my taste, but it’s decent,” you say as you take another sip of your fruity concoction.

“Oh, just decent? Tell me more of your thoughts,” he says as he puts an elbow on the bar top and leans his cheek on his knuckles, waiting for you to answer.

You shake your head. “Nah, you don’t want to hear my thoughts. They’re… well, they’re…” You lose yours words to the blaring music that stirs across the crowded dance floor.

“Enlighten me,” he says with a husky voice while he stirs the amber liquid, eyes fixed intently on you.

You gulp at the sharp eyesight, your knees knocking against the smooth bar walls anxiously. “Well, there’s no food here for starters. I’d kill for some chicken strips right now,” you groan, salivating at the thought of food right now.

He laughs in response. “Sweetheart, this is a club. This ain’t a cheap bar with finger foods.”

You snap back at him. “Well, it’d be a hell of a lot better if the club had some.”

His eyebrows raise in defense, holding out a hand to calm you down. “Alright, calm down, tiger. Gonna start seeing claws in a second,” he laughs as you sigh and nod your head. “What else?” he asks.

“What else what?” you question as you swirl your drink around mindlessly.

“What else would you change about the club?” His eyebrows knit together like he’s concentrating on what you have to say.

When was the last time a guy ever listened to you? Whatever, he asked so you’ll tell him exactly what you think.

“The signs are all red. It’d look better if there were also pink ones. Gives some light contrast and a more subtle look,” you shrug, sipping on more of the tasty alcohol in your hands.

“Hmmm, might not be a bad idea. Anything else?” His gaze stays on you as he throws back a gulp of whiskey, sitting the crystal glass back on the edge of the flat bar top.

“Why do you care? I’m just rambling,” you say with a convicted tone.

“I might’ve talked to the owner a couple of times here and there. Might give him some suggestions next time I see him,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes at his perfect dimples.

God, why does he have to be so pretty.

“Okay then,” you say with a smug look. “The alcohol menu could use some more options, other than tons of beers. Make it more friendly for cocktails and mixed drinks. And the VIP booths? Maybe save some for general guests to reserve when they get here. The Dj? He needs to mix up the tunes, these songs get old pretty quick. Throw some throwbacks in there, play some more upbeat rock songs. And for rooms? Maybe open up some private rooms for guests who want to chill in a quieter area where they can think. It’s fucking loud in here,” you say sternly as you cross your leg over your knee and give him a devious smirk, feeling like you just let him have it.

All he does is shake his head and let out a low whistle, a small chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya? Shit. You sure got a lot to pick apart. Don’t ya?”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s just what I’d do differently. Not that my opinion matters.”

“Sure it does, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give him the rundown when I see him.” He winks at you, and you feel a weird flutter in your stomach that you shouldn’t even be feeling. You chase it down with another drink of alcohol, letting the burn fill the void.

“This isn’t your scene I’m guessin’?” he asks carefully, honey eyes drawing back to yours again patiently.

“No, it’s really not,” you shake your head defeatedly. “My friends dragged me out tonight, said I needed to get out of the house and let loose. I had a really long week and I was looking forward to staying in with a glass of wine, but no. Just had to come out,” you say with a huff, your cheeks growing crimson with the sudden awareness of your bad attitude and complaining.

Christ. Just calm the fuck down. You’re going to scare him off.

“What is your scene then?” he asks, ignoring your whole meltdown about coming out in the first place.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes, surprised he wants to continue the conversation with your depressing ass.

“What’s your scene, angel?”

Angel. Oh.

“Oh, uh. I… I like more quiet environments. Like bookstores. There’s nothing more I like than strolling through a bookstore with an iced coffee in my hand, just smelling the fresh pages of the books,” you smile, thinking of the last time you went to the local bookstore and fawned over the latest edition of The Odyssey. Classics were some of your favorites.

“Books, huh? What’s your favorite?” he asks, general curiosity piqued as he continues staring at you, fixedly.

You eye him suspiciously but continue. “Pride and Prejudice,” you say quietly, eyes averting from his momentarily.

“Ahh, a classic. We are all fools in love,” he quotes almost perfectly, his Southern accent making every word sound like sweet poetry to your ears.

Your eyes grow wider, shock hitting your system. “You know Jane Austen?” you ask incredibly, your hand gripping your cup uncomfortably tight.

“Mhm. Read most of her books,” he says without a hint of surprise in his voice.

He reads classic books. Holy shit.

“Wow. That’s uh-” you lose your concentration, mouth gawking open at him. He reaches out and closes your jaw for you, his calloused fingers burning your skin the more he touches you.

“Don’t act too surprised. Some men like to read the classics too,” he smirks as he drops his hand, ending the contact way too soon. “What else?”

“Huh?” you ask, still shocked at his last words.

“What else do ya like?” His weight shifts just a tad and his knee skims yours as goosebumps form over your skin, the contact almost too much for you.

“Why?” you ask, almost self conscious of yourself. There’s way more interesting girls here than you, more up to his liking probably. You’re boring while all these other girls know how to party. You’re an introvert, you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be talking to him.

“Why what?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, the lines above his forehead wrinkling at the notion as one of his tousled curls fall into his face. You almost want to push it back for him, almost.

“Why the interest in me? I’m not... I’m…”

“You’re not what?” he almost barks out as his eyes get a shade darker. It’s a little intimidating and makes you sit up straighter, aware of all the sulking you’ve done this evening. You’re just making it worse for yourself. You’re going to scare him off.

“I’m not like all these other girls in here. I’m… I’m shy, reserved. I don’t even come close to some of these women in here. I’m…”

He cuts you off as he cups your chin with his large hand, syrupy eyes clouding your vision as he stares at you intently. It makes your heart speed up frantically as blood rushes through your ears uncontrollably.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re interesting. You caught my attention. And you’re stunning,” he says smoothly as his eyes drop down the length of you, taking in the large slit in your tight black dress and trailing back up to your eyes, a breath catching deep in your throat.

He drops his hand from your chin and turns back to his glass of whiskey, pouring another shot down his throat as he slides it back against the sleek bar top, running a hand through his wild curls.

God, you want to run your hands through those curls, want to feel just how soft and silky they really are…

A rough voice pulls you from your distant thoughts as a tall, bulky man dressed in all black slides up beside you in the next bar stool, ogling your body as he fans his eyes over you in a disgusting manner. You want to roll your eyes and ignore him already.

“Aren’t you a sexy thing? Let me buy you a drink. What’ll it be? Tequila, beer on tap?” he asks with a snide smirk on his face.

“I've got her well taken care of. Thanks for the offer, though. But she won’t be needing that drink,” he faintly growls under his breath, placing his large hand on your leg as he curls his calloused fingers around your inner thigh slowly. You about jump from the warm contact and how it instantly eases you in a weird way. You barely know the man, why did this feel… safe?

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize she was with anyone,” he huffs, eyeing Joel’s hand on your bare thigh as it burns through your skin like a scalding stove.

He’s just a man. He’s just a man. Get it together. You’re not doing this tonight.

“Think she’s in good hands,” Joel breathes, his voice deep and gruff as his eyes narrow at the man. He turns with a nod and walks in the opposite direction, going to find his next victim.

Joel keeps his thick fingers pressed to your thigh for a few more seconds then releases his hand, the same time you let go of the breath you were holding. “Uhh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, leaning against the bar top to look him in the eyes again. In those pretty brown doe eyes that light up tingling feelings that you want to keep at bay.

No hookups. None.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says as he turns to look at you again, eyes lingering on more unanswered questions.

“So, you seein’ anyone?” he asks as he drags his thumb over the rim of his glass cup, slowly collecting condensation on the tip of his thumb. The sight makes you gulp.

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me that a girl as beautiful as you isn’t seein’ anyone?” he asks in disbelief, a small disbelieving laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, I’m not,” you shrug, eyes flicking back and forth between the thumb that languidly glides around the edge of the glass and his honey eyes that stay focused on you. It’s intimidating, to say the least.

“Why not?” he asks curiously, an eyebrow raising in question as he waits for your answer. You don’t really have a good one for him, not really wanting to go into the traumatic ex boyfriends you had been with before.

“I dunno. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess. Been busy. And besides, I’m not…” You stop mid sentence, staring at Joel’s scowl on his face. What was he so mad about now? What had you said?

“Don’t give me that answer. Sweetheart, the entire bar is staring at you.” You look behind you and gasp. He’s right. All the men gathered around the counter are trailing their eyes to you, eyes ogling you from a distance, hoping to get a chance to talk to you.

You swing your bar stool back around and stop as your knees lock with his, your eyes focusing on him. Only him. “As for me, I’ve had my eyes on you the minute you stepped through those doors. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart. A real angel, at best,” coffee eyes honing in on you like a hawk stalking its prey. Suddenly you can’t hear the noisy music, can’t hear the clicking of the glasses behind you. It’s just you and Joel, in your own little bubble as the words crash down on you like a siren’s song.

Gorgeous. Sweetheart. You’re in trouble.

“Oh,” is all you can gasp out. He’s charming, almost too charming. And you hate him for it. Hate him for how he’s making you feel. Like you’re special, like you mean something. It makes you sick, so fucking sick.

You take a slow drink of your alcohol, hoping the taste will cool you off from the heat he just gave you. “Tell me, angel. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?”

You choke on your drink and spit it out, wiping the cloth napkin over your chin as you catch your breath. “Excuse me?” you ask in disbelief.

“You heard me. It’s a simple question. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?” His jaw tics and his eyebrow rises, his eyes hounding you as he waits for your answer.

You’re speechless, not believing what you just heard. But the way he’s looking at you now tells you he won’t back off till he knows. So you amuse him. “It’s been a couple of years,” you answer quietly, your voice barely audible above the ringing music.

“A couple years?” Joel asks incredulously. “Christ. No wonder you’ve been uptight lately. Y’need somebody to make you feel good, ain’t that right?” he asks with a rough, gravelly voice as he inches closer to you, your hands digging into the material of your black dress as he comes closer, closer, closer.

“I… I’m fine,” you say nervously, but he keeps leaning in, body hovering over yours as his hand ghosts over your thigh, causing goosebumps to raise in his presence.

“You’re not fine, sweetheart. You’re trembling. Your legs are shaking,” he points out as he trails his fingers lightly over your thigh, his whiskey breath breathing down your neck as he runs his lips across the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“I could make you feel so good, sweetheart. Could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. You want it, don’t ya? I can almost smell how bad you want it,” he teases as he whispers into your ear, making your legs squeeze tighter together as you hold in a whine of need.

Fuck, stop. Not tonight, not with him. He’s too charming, too tempting, too hot for you.

The edge of his patchy salt and pepper scruff slides against your jaw, making you want to run your fingers profusely through it as you drag your nails over him. Imagining his mouth between your legs, his tongue on your clit as he makes meticulous circles over you.

Fuck.

You catch your breath and watch him pull back just the slightest, his honey eyes now darker in shade, more prominent as his pupils expand wider into dark circles. “Let me give it to ya, angel. Let me take care of you,” he says with bared teeth, a devilish grin taking form on his face as his body crowds yours against the bar stool, just hovering as his hands cover the sides of you, fingers barely grazing your hips that send a fire right through your lungs.

You catch your breath and say the most logical response. “I don’t need it. I don’t do this, I don’t…”

“You don’t what, darlin’? Don’t let a man make you feel good? Don’t let a man touch you where you need it most?” he purrs, calloused fingers finding your thigh as he runs his hand up your smooth skin, leaving burn marks with every place he touches. It’s hot, sadistic, evil.

“I… I…” You’re completely flustered from him, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. He’s so fucking charming and handsome and fuck. He’s trying to coax you, and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too.

“I can see how bad you want it,” he purrs. “The way your cheeks are flushed, and your breathing is erratic. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together as if to pretend that ache isn’t stirring in there for me. The way you keep sucking on your bottom lip and staring at me with those needy, pretty eyes,” he coaxes, leaning into you again as he runs his hot tongue over the shell of your ear.

And fuck, does it feel good.

“You want it, baby. Give in. Let me fix that throbbing ache in that pretty pussy of yours. Let me turn this good little angel into a bad little devil,” he growls, making a wave of slick run down your center as you choke on a moan. He only laughs at your needy response, your middle completely full of warmth now from his daring actions and smoldering words.

When he finally pulls back, you ask the one question that keeps ringing in your mind. “What’s in it for you?” you ask with the cock of your eyebrow, chin jutting out as you wait for an obnoxious answer that any other man would give you.

“Only the pleasure of knowing I took care of you,” he smirks, eyes glazing over at you with hunger in his deep voice.

“What? You’re not gonna make me get on my knees and give you a blowjob like any other guy would?” you ask with the taste of metallic in your throat, bitter and stale as you swallow it back down. That’s what any other man would do. No one’s ever asked what you wanted, only what they needed. Sick fucks.

“No,” he answers honestly.

“No?” you ask with bewildered eyes.

“No. I’m not other guys, sweetheart,” he states simply, the hunger still there in his dark eyes as his chest rises and falls in waves. He’s looking at you with so much intent in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

“So, what do you say? Want me to make you feel good?” he asks as he licks his lower lip seductively. The sight about knocks you out of your chair.

“I-uh. I… need a moment. Where are the bathrooms?” you ask hurriedly as you stand up from the bar stool, pulling your short dress down over your thighs.

“Down that dark hall and first door on your left,” he says as he points in the direction of the bathrooms. You nod and race off, dodging a couple making out as you walk around them, eager to get to the bathroom.

You shove past some people dancing and walk as fast as your high heels can carry you. You make your way through the dim lit hallway and crash into the door, swinging it open as you step into the lavish, huge bathroom. You stop at the porcelain sink and look into the lit up mirror as you stare at your reflection.

You freeze when you see just how flushed you are. Your eyes are as wide as an owl’s and the veins in your neck are pulsing like crazy. Your lace panties are drenched, and you’re so turned on that you feel as if you’re about to explode. You need to cum, you need to stop the ache in between your thighs.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t hook up with guys. This isn’t like you. But Joel… Joel is so devilishly handsome, so charming, a gentleman, a smooth talker. He practically got you off by just hovering over you and whispering dirty words into your ear. He was too much, this was too much. You should just go back home. But you want this. You want him.

You take one more long look at yourself in the mirror and sigh, hands digging into the sink as you give up completely. Fuck it. You want him, so you’ll have him.

When you open the door and leave the lit up bathroom, you about topple over as you hit something that feels like a thick brick wall. You look up and realize it’s Joel you crash into. You gawk at the way he leans up against the wall, clearly waiting for an answer from you.

“So, decide what you’re gonna do, angel?” he asks smoothly, his thick voice dripping like syrup all over you.

Fuck this. This man is a menace.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, a game of tag going on. But it’s not just any tag. No. He’s the hungry wolf, and he came to eat you alive.

“Not exactly…” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

He chuckles lightly as he takes another step forward and another, backing you up into the dark hallway that seems to go on for miles. “It’s simple, sweetheart. You can either leave or you can let me indulge you,” he purrs as he comes closer, chasing you like a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask out of breath, your voice getting choked up as you swallow down want and desire.

He clicks his tongue at you, coming in for the kill. “Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be coy. I can smell the arousal already drippin’ from you. Can see how bad you want this with the way your eyes widen and lips part for me,” he says seductively, pupils blowing out as he takes a step forward and another one until he’s successfully backed you into the darkest corner of the hallway he can manage.

You knock into the cold black wall and gasp when he cages you in, letting his hands linger against your thighs as you feel the heat of his fingertips press into your hip bones. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering incantations into it as you fall into a dreamlike trance.

“Y’know, there’s more than one way to seduce a lady. I can teach you so many things, angel. Can make you cum in more ways than one, can make you feel things you’ve only dreamt about,” he whispers, letting one of his hands run up the side of your thigh, gradually lifting your dress as he teases you with his hot breath hitting your ear.

“Yeah?” you ask audibly, your own voice betraying you as you give in to his coaxing.

“Mmmm. Yeah, that’s right. Ya want it, angel? Want me to show you what I’m talkin’ about?” he asks as he blows gently in your ear, making slick pool in your center as a whine gets caught in your throat.

“Mhm,” you choke out while holding in a moan.

“Say it. Say it,” he purrs out, the soft lilt of his voice hitting the back of your spine as tingles start to pour down your body. “Pretty, pretty please. Need to hear you say it,” he whispers, his hot breath breathing down your neck like a sauna you want to jump head first into.

“Yes, yes. Want you to show me,” you plead, your voice needy with want.

“Gotta say please first,” he teases as he spreads your legs apart and places his leg in between yours, hiking his knee up to brush against your clothed folds. You whine at the action.

“Please, Joel. Pleaseeee,” you beg.

“Good girl,” he praises as he lifts the skirt of your dress, cupping his hand over your sex as you writhe in his grasp. He smirks at you and pushes the lace to the side, freeing your wet pussy as the cold air hits it, making you bite your lip in response.

He slides two calloused fingers through your wet folds, gliding down lower as he sinks them inside your dripping hole. You moan at the feeling.

“Christ. You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, angel,” he groans, hooking them up to that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. You choke on a moan as you clench around him.

“Ahh, there it is. There’s that sweet spot,” he purrs as he goes in knuckles deep into your wetness. He gently slides his digits out and drags his covered fingers up, up, up, as they find your clit and run slow, meticulous circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you moan out as you grab the front of his shirt and moan into his ear, digging your fingers into the cotton material as you hold on for dear life.

“That’s right, angel. Let me hear you, that’s a good girl,” he praises. He takes the two drenched fingers that were just inside you and pop them in his mouth, sucking off all the slick that covers his large digits. Your jaw drops at the sight.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as he shifts his leg in between yours again, bending it just slightly as he cages you in again.

The room is hot, humid, loud, and you’re fully aware that anyone could walk down here and see you fully on display as Joel has his way with you. But you don’t care, don’t say anything about it. You just want him.

Him, him, him.

“Now, sweetheart. Gonna need you to do something for me. Call this lesson one on ways to get you off,” he instructs as he digs his hands into your hips and pulls you forward to where you’re level with his muscled thigh. “Want ya to ride me, angel,” he says, voice gravelly and hot in your ear.

“You want me to… ride you? How?” you ask with your brows knitted together.

“On my thigh, sweetheart. C’mon. Put that pretty pussy on my thigh. Want you to cover my jeans, baby. Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dragging your hips forward until you’re resting your center on his clothed thigh.

“Oh,” you respond as he slowly grinds your hips into his jeans, showing you exactly what he wants you to do. He lets go and lets you set the pace, taking control as your clit drags against the rough material, catching on the most sensitive areas as you pull him closer and dig your nails into his shirt, stifling out a moan as you move up and down, up and down. Feeling the building pressure low in your stomach as you choke on another moan.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl. Ride me just like that, angel. Doin’ so good,” he praises as you feel just how turned on he’s getting. The bulge is tight around his zipper, and you can see just how big and thick he is underneath the dark denim.

Fuck. You want him, you want him so fucking bad but you’ll have to wait because right now you can’t focus on anything but your building orgasm. It’s so… it’s sooo. Oh.

You rub your aching clit against the curve of his large thigh, grinding into him as you hit that spot again and again as you rut down into him even more, gripping the edge of his shirt so tight that you swear you’re about to rip it off him.

“Joellll, it feels good,” you moan with ragged breaths as he leans down and licks the shell of your ear, whispering dirty thoughts as his hot breath runs down the base of your neck, making you sweat against his large form.

“Yeah? Just like that, angel. Bein’ such a fuckin’ good girl,” he praises with a low, gravelly voice as it consumes you whole, sending more slick down his jeans as you continuously ruin his denim.

You moan again at the praise. This is so hot, he’s so hot. And he’s so good with his words. He could sweet talk you all night long just like this if he wanted to.

“You like that, huh? Like bein’ told how good of a girl you’re bein’,” he smirks, dragging his lips over your jaw as you smell his woodsy, whiskey scent all over you. You want to taste it, drink it up till you’re drunk on him, suffocate on his intoxicating scent as it spirals you into a pit of warmth.

“Yes, yes,” you whine as he presses his thigh deeper into your center, feeling the wave of pleasure take over as you’re right there. So close, but not quite there. Almost, almost.

“C’mon, angel. Be a good girl and cum for me. Wanna see you coat my thigh with your sweet cum,” he growls, lowering his hands to your ass as he squeezes and presses your hips forward, rocking into his leg as you ride the pleasure out, feel that building release about to break.

He drops his plush lips against your neck and sucks just above your collarbone, right against the sensitive spot that drives you crazy as you moan against his lips on your skin. You feel the smirk grow on his lips as a low groan comes from his mouth as he bites down again, feeding your raw adrenaline that chases your pleasure.

The blaring music and chanting crowd disappears from the room, becoming muddled as you focus on what’s in front of you, the strong arms that grip you and clench you down to his thigh, the dark eyes that envelop you as you slide deeper and deeper into a dreamlike state. You can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything other than your ragged moans, Joel’s labored breathing, the feel of his denim against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the calloused fingers that tease the back of your thighs, the hot breath that blows down your neck as he crowds your space. It’s just you and Joel, nothing else matters. Nothing else but this. Whatever this may be.

You jar forward, catching your clit on a wrinkle as it tugs at you, screaming your name to let go. Let go, let go. You can feel the white hot heat take hold of you, feel it slowly sliding down your center as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. You’re about to cum, about to release your heat all over him. And he knows. He knows.

“Don’t be shy, angel. Let me have it. Cum for me,” he growls dominantly, wrapping his hands tight around your waist as he pushes you down deep against the denim covering his thighs, pressing your throbbing clit at just the right spot as you feel yourself let go.

You dig your fingers into the collar of his shirt and press your face against the crook of his neck as you cum hard, feeling the slick spill out of you as you tense up over his thigh, squeezing your fingers around him as you moan his name loudly into his ear, hearing your breath hitch as he hums in approval.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Say my name. Yeah, just like that. There ya go,” he praises as he rocks you gently against his thigh, making sure you get every ounce of cum out of your dripping pussy.

You take a minute to come back down to earth, back to where you don’t hear the ringing in your ears, where you don’t see the bright lights covering your vision anymore. He slowly lets his hands loosen around your waist, gently leaning you back against the wall as he slides you off his thigh, covering your soaked folds with your ruined panties as he sets them back in place against your center. You wince as his fingers brush up over your sensitive clit and let him pull your skirt back down over your thighs.

He takes a step back and brushes his fingers against the damp stain on his jeans, slowly bringing them up to his mouth as he sucks his thick digits into his mouth, lapping up your slick as he stares straight at you with blown out pupils, making you gawk at the sight.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Goddamn.” He curses again under his breath and drops them to his side as he sticks them deep in his pocket looking for something. Whatever he grabs, he covers it in the base of his palm, not letting you quite see what it is.

“Did you enjoy that… lesson?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up as he stares at you with wild eyes, his tousled curls a mess as sweat beads at a few of the curls pressed against his forehead.

Lesson? Does this mean there would be more?

“Mhm,” you hum out, too fucked out to give a straight answer right now as you were still stuck on the fact that this man had just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life. Not even your vibrator was a match for him. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet or put his cock in you. That was saying something.

He was dangerous, tempting, a bad habit you could get used to. He was trouble, a menace. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care. You wanted more, needed more from him. Just him.

It’s like he hears your thoughts, smirking up at you as he lifts your chin and brushes his calloused thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes trailing down to stare at them as if he was thinking of sinking his mouth down on you. You hold your breath, not ready for that yet. It was too soon, too intimate of a thing.

He drops his thumb from your lip and trails it against your jawline, dropping down a level so his eyes sink into yours.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“If you ever need anything and I mean anything, I’m just a phone call away.” He grabs your hand as he sticks a business card in your palm, closing your fingers over it as he brings your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of your knuckles as you suck in a deep breath as his soft lips kiss your skin. It feels good. So good.

“Hope to see you soon, angel.” He drops your hand back to your side as he winks and smirks a devilish grin your way, turning back around as he makes his way back towards the rush of the crowd, entering the noise once more as you watch him disappear into a sea of people as his tousled curls get pulled into the bodies, leaving you standing in shock in the dark alone.

You uncurl your fingers and run them along the edge of the glossy white business card. You turn it over and read it once, twice, three times as your eyes widen. You read it once more to make sure your eyes don’t deceive you, but you only see the same thing sprawled across the card each time. It reads Joel Miller: Owner of Club Inferno. His number sits above the words, leaving you breathless as you realize just who you were talking to earlier. Who you were complaining to earlier.

Holy shit. Joel was the club owner?!

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You were in trouble. You were in so much fucking trouble. How would you show your face here again? You wouldn’t. Unless…. unless you decided to come back for more. And you wanted more with him.

You take a deep breath and lean against the cold wall, trying to get ahold of yourself as you rethink everything that had happened tonight. The drinks, the conversations, the flirting, the fucking part where he made you cum while he pressed you against his strong, muscular body.

As you close your eyes for a second and swallow down your orgasmic high from minutes ago, you slowly open them back up and come to terms with yourself. You can’t see yourself not coming back here and not letting him give you another lesson…

You need it, need him. You’d never had a man make you feel so bold, so sexy before in your life. And the way he was all about what felt good to you? Well it was… exhilarating. You wanted more, craved more. So you knew right then, you had to come back. For one more thrill, one more touch, one more orgasm. You’d come back… for him.

Joel Miller was going to be the fucking bane of your existence, you just knew it.

[kurtsvonneslut]

Wait... what was the swanqueen fic recs? ...and are there more (...esp if theyre smutty) 👀👀👀

oh there are more!!!

first of all i'm just going to plug myself because why not. i have 78 swan queen works up - mostly oneshots, a couple longfics, including the fic i'm currently writing, change with the seasons. a lot of my fics are older (for example my 52 weeks of swan queen series was written in 2015) and i was a teenager when i wrote them, but i still find a lot of joy in them!!

now for the rest of the recs, i'm going to organize them as best i can into a few categories. also, a lot of these recs will be a bit older as i've been away from the fandom for a while, and am only just now coming back again. this is an open question if anyone else has recommendations to add in the reblogs!!!

longfics:

satin town by @coalitiongirl is probably my all time favorite fanfic, period. everything she's written for the fandom is incredible, but this one has always stuck with me. the dynamic between emma and regina (who is in full on evil queen mode) is just DELICIOUS and i love how she worked henry into the story. an absolute must as far as i'm concerned. PLUS she has a whole NOVEL out now, so go support that if you like the fic!!!!

the secret's in the telling by @the-pyrophoric-one is another classic in the fandom, and for good reason. the characterization is so spot on, and i absolutely love the arc of this story. the chapters are suuuuuper long though so it's a time investment!!

somewhere, someone must know the ending by maleficently who is not on tumblr as far as i'm aware is a divorce au. lots of angst with a happy ending. the same author also wrote an incredible three-part series called the fatal plunge, which remains, tragically, unfinished.

you gotta play dirty by amycarey who i'm not tagging because they don't write fic anymore. there's so many fics by amycarey that i absolutely adore (temporary distractions and keep the wolves outside by living well are also up there!!) but i chose this one because it's so unique to me. it's an au in which emma and regina are in a concert band together. i was a band kid myself, specifically a clarinetist, so i was pretty geeked over this!!

all that glitters is not (olypmic) gold by @queststar is another super niche but super fun and well-written au. in this one, emma and regina are olympic speed skaters. i just love the competitive energy between the two of them and the arc as they grow closer and eventually fall for each other. the author even got elizabeth mitchell to read some of it which is just. next level.

one fine star away by @bytherosebushlaughing is another au that gets a little meta, but it's sooooo much fun. in this fic, once upon a time is a tv show that regina, emma, and the others starred in. 20 some years later, the cast is reuniting, and the reunion is being covered by none other than one henry mills. it's such a clever fic, and i absolutely love it so far!!

oneshots:

of love and loss and love again by @snowivyimconfusi oh this one. this one is so bittersweet. emma and regina, grieving the losses of their partners, find comfort in each other. and more. it's so beautifully done, and i just adore ivy's writing style!!

what you thought you had to do by hoovahhoopah is the very first fic i read after making my ao3 account and it's still one that i love!! it's part of a six part series of oneshots called ill fitting pieces, but it also stands on its own just as well. just a beautiful, classic, canon-but-make-it-better kind of fic.

a woman moves when her heart has been broken by etotheswan because who among us wasn't absolutely destroyed by the season 3 finale???? this offered a lot of swan queen based catharsis while we waited for season 4.

monster-in-law by seriousfic is just a funny, light-hearted little oneshot about mary margaret trying to stop emma and regina's wedding by reminding them that they're all sort of related. a big departure from the seriousfic work we all know and miss dearly..... but enjoyable nonetheless thanks to their talent!!

and now, the moment we've all been waiting for, smut:

top of the list is, of course, our prophet of swan queen smut @angstbotfic. the making amends series is my all time favorite, and one that i recommended to my dear friend 27, but you can't go wrong with literally anything they've written.

wicked games by @starsthatburn is so. is so. it left me basically speechless. also recommended this one to 27, and i believe this is the one referenced in the ask they sent. it's the most insanely hot BDSM fantasy. if you like domme regina, look no further.

the thing she won't admit by beattheodds if you like butt stuff, here's swan queen butt stuff. need i say more?

paint it black by wily_one24 heed the warnings, this one is pretty dark. but if that's what you're into, this is the one. it's like if 50 shades of grey was swan queen and also good.

of love and loathing by morganlegaye and its sequel, transgressions of the heart are a hatefuck lover's dream. transgressions of the heart remains unfinished, but god is it good.

fealty by standbackufools you like throne sex? you like honorifics? you like D/s dynamic? enjoy :)

thank god it's BDSM friday by carrotlucky13 this one covers soooooo many kinks. emma and regina enter into a 24/7 BDSM lifestyle. for 95k words. i don't know what else to say but WOWOWOWOW. even if you're not into every kink in here it's still hot af.

emma's little problem by juicecup it's a magic!cock story with a slight humiliation kink if you squint, but otherwise mostly vanilla sex to round out a very kinky rec list.

go give these incredible creators some love!!! and remember, nothing motivates a fic writer quite like a nice comment :)

[yuri-is-online]

Was Lilia more “Oh my thorn fairy I have another child?! I can barely cast a spell as of now and future me wants a fucking KID?! AT THAT AGE?!”

Or more of a

I HAVE ANOTHER SON?! AND IT’S FROM ME!?

If his Yutu tells him he comes from the future? Because it could imply he does regain his remaining years and magic. Idk how you wrote that problem that even rn it’s giving talk about Lilia surviving book 7 or not.

If it’s the second I already see him passing by Silver’s room really excited and saying “YOU HAVE A BROTHER!” And zooming off, leaving a very confused Silver and thinking he refers to either Malleus or Sebek.

technically anon asked first but this ask is much longer so it was awkward to screenshot for an answer. Here is the link the anon used for reference, I obligated as an elderly hater to let you know it's from SAO. Anon's idea is extremely good and we're going to roll with it for this Yutu's Uniqe Magic because you know he was always going to be a little shit.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. SPOILERS FOR: Book 7, Lilia's back story, and Silver's unique magic. Please engage with this in mind. For more fyuutre kid au, please check out the series section of my masterlist.

I have a bit of difficult time writing for Lilia given how much older he is than the rest of the cast, so I tend to write his Yuu as being a bit older themselves. Maybe they had an extremely difficult childhood and connected with Lilia over their shared sense of robbed innocence. Whatever it was I think this Yuu has a bit of a fascination with creatures of the night and a lot of their weirdo reputation within their community comes from kids telling each other that Yuu and Yutu are vampires. That makes me tempted to say Lilia! Yutu's real name is Alucard or Sebastian, something vaguely vampire themed.

None of those rumors are helped by Yutu finding himself very lethargic when out in the sunlight or his preference for colder temperatures. From his perspective he can't exactly help being who he is, people should really just get over themselves and let him do his thing. It's not his fault that bats really seem to like him for some reason, the neighbors are exaggerating Mr. Animal Control officer he swears.

Because he prefers to spend his awake hours in the dark, he is waaaaay too comfortable doing things and going places he shouldn't. He's real familiar with all the abandoned buildings and sketchy alleys of your town and has tagged quite a few of them. I like the idea of Lilia! Yutu being really interested in street art and Graffiti. I could see him putting up a bunch of bats everywhere and getting in a bunch of trouble for it. He has very fond memories of Yuu letting him paint murals on portions of their house in an effort to meet him halfway. He might like a good prank but unlike his father Yutu is always pulling his punches with Yuu.

Lilia didn't exactly have a supportive parent while he was growing up, something I feel like Yuu remembers and is very conscious of in their parenting of Yutu. Unfortunately for Lilia they also remember that he had another child and was a lot older than them, something Yutu raises several eyebrows at and causes him to ignore the things Yuu tries to tell him about his "great sense of humor" and "desire for different peoples to learn and grow with one another-" yeah that's great can you back up a bit to where you said he had another family? Yutu goes through life thinking he was the product of an affair Yuu had with a much older, married man who was just trying to feel young again. The amnesia stuff... sometimes he wonders if his dad tried to have Yuu killed. He never says it out loud because something tells him he's wrong, but gut feelings aren't as trustworthy as statistics...

So you can imagine his surprise when he tumbles out of a coffin and is told that his dad was a faerie general bound in service to a family of dragons, veteran of an ancient war, and technically the adoptive father of the Prince of the children of the night and the Prince of the rival human kingdom that killed his best friends. One of which is alive and overwhelmed with joy to meet him. Silver wanted Yutu almost as badly as Lilia and Yuu did so to see him alive and awkwardly squirming in his arms? Silver hasn't cried this much since they lost Lilia and Malleus.

Having a proper older brother, not just the concept, is an extreme change for Yutu. He's used to it just being him and Yuu, and he was sort of expecting Silver to hate him just for existing. Nothing could be further from the truth, Silver wants his younger brother to have the same freedoms he did while attending school but he also respectfully requests that Yutu spend at least some of his free time with him. He tried desperately to find his dreams over the years and was never able to make firm contact, but he doesn't want to pressure Yutu into caring about him. Yutu is didn't realize how badly he wanted other family members until he got to have Silver, he's even willing to take up sword fighting so they can get closer.

Sebek is also overwhelmed with tears upon seeing Lilia! Yutu. He is a bit harsh on him for "not living up to Master Lilia's legacy" because he doesn't know anything about fighting. He does applaud him for his willingness to learn. Yutu thinks Sebek is hilarious and messes with him just as much as Lilia does. Something Sebek is completely willing to let him do because it makes him feel like Lilia never left.

All of the Yutus get to see some of the photographs Yuu left behind, but Lilia! Yutu is especially interested in them. He makes a small photo album of all the ones he can find of his dad, especially ones where he's with Yuu and Silver. He's partially driven by guilt for thinking his father was a terrible person, but really he just wants to feel closer to him. He's half fae, and sure he has Sebek to talk about that with but what he really needs is a connection with his father. Yutu doesn't really care about being a faerie. He just cares about his dad's acceptance, everything else can go hang.

I don't have a name for his unique magic, but going off of anon's idea it allows him to overwhelm his target's mind, forcing them to think about their greatest fears to the point they are convinced they are really going through it. Someone hates spider? All over their face and in their clothes. Crippling fear of failure? Suddenly that emotion is all they can focus on. And if it's a mindless creature like a blot phantom or a monster they become overwhelmed with the sensation that they are unable to breathe and about to die. Yutu can't control the illusion the person experiences so usually he tries not to use it on his classmates.

That changes when he goes into the past. Some rando want to shit talk Yuu? Nightmare. Macho NRC guy wants to rumble? Nightmare. Some random guy jumped out from behind him and yells "BOO!" Nightma-

If Yutu had been just a hair slower he would have been in extreme pain, the dangerous glint in those familiar ruby eyes scream that. The short fae smiles almost cruelly, advancing on him clearly upset even though Yutu has dropped the spell.

"Well now, that's no way to great a senior." Lilia's voice is strangely soothing, it occurs to Yutu that this is probably the first time his father has ever been angry at him and he can't help himself. He laughs,

"Yeah sorry about that." He makes sure to try and be cute about it, which helps to diffuse the tension some what. "You really scared me so it was all I could think to do."

Lilia is very impressed by Yutu's reflexes and control over his unique magic. He is even further impressed by how eager Yutu is to train with Silver. The kid has some real promise and fits into Silver and Sebek's dynamic better than Lilia could have dreamed of. He really hopes the two will benefit from having a relatively normal human friend their age to train with. Maybe he and Yuu will stick around and give him some piece of mind about the kids being in good hands when he's gone.

Yutu hanging around Diasomnia gives him an excuse to chat with Yuu more, not that he exactly needed it. Lilia sort of hates the way he's drawn to you, it feels unfair. Unfair to you to give you hope there could be something more and toy with your affections; unfair to him for life to finally allow him to realize what romantic love is like just in time to have to let it go. There is a bittersweet tone to all of your interactions that his housemates are a bit too socially awkward to pick up on but Cater does.

Yutu is surprised how much he likes Cater, he associates him with a terrifying monster he's had to fight multiple times, not a fun guy who is really determined to help his parents get together. And what's even better he's really chill when Yutu asks for stories about Lilia, he has a lot of them and a completely different perspective than his older brother allowing Yutu to glean some more insight to what his parents might have been thinking in the future.

He finds himself spending a lot of time with the pop music club, not as an official member though he's not great at carrying a tune. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are glad to have another person to chill with, sometimes they'll play music and Yutu will draw something based off whatever noise they made. Cater wants to talk him into doing album art for them... you know if they ever get around to making a recording.

I think Yutu will only tell Lilia who he is if he has no choice. He wants to mess with the timeline as little as possible, but should a monster from his timeline appear in this one, say like an overblotted Yuu another asker was so nice as to bring up, well it's not like he says who he is. He just addresses the monster as his parent and has a very loud meltdown not wanting to fight them again. Something Malleus is more than willing to assist him with.

"Think nothing of it." Malleus's power is truly terrifying, Yutu is torn between sorrow that he wasn't on their side and relief he didn't overblot a second time. "You are Lilia's son yes? That makes you my subject, and a most precious one at that." Not that Yutu has avoided interacting with Malleus exactly, he's just found talking to him exceptionally awkward because well. He's not Yuu, he's very aware of how important Malleus is supposed to be. But the way he's looking at him now makes him think that maybe he was missing out on interacting with another older brother.

Something that's confirmed when he turns to see how big his father's eyes have gotten, the man is shaking as he stares at his face and flicks between him, Malleus, and Silver like he's staring at the most precious pieces of art in the whole universe.

As you brought up Lilia's survival isn't guaranteed, I did not solve that problem at all. I sort of just... wrote that Lilia would age more or less like a normal human and not really be able to use magic on par with what a fae would consider normal but would still be impressive to a human... so while Lilia might be a bit reluctant to show his face in Briar Valley he would still have enough years to have and raise Yutu. He might have actually died around the same time as Yuu if they had lived a normal life.

He is overwhelmingly excited at the thought of having another baby. Lilia might not know what to do with them but he does really like kids. What's harder for him to accept is his relationship with Yuu. Raising a child is something he's done before, being someone's long term partner is not. He is unused to feeling desirable, and unfamiliar with acting on his own desires. Sure Lilia might seem very free spirited, but much of his life has been dictated by a sense of duty. The thought of having something precious to him that chose him specifically of their own free will is... disarming. He's overwhelmed with how helpless you make him feel and how little he despises it.

Yutu's need to be accepted by his father is met and exceeded almost immediately. Lilia wants to cook a big family dinner for Yuu and all of his boys, something that Malleus politely rejects asking if he can instead show his Culinary Crucible skills off to Yutu (it's really so he can make babiest brother promise to never eat anything Paw Paw makes EVER) and it's all so normal Yutu almost forgets that he's listening to a practical god smugly tell him he knows all about edible weeds as his father flies around him cracking jokes and pinching his cheeks. His older brother is asleep on the couch waiting for the food to be done and his precious parent is helping his Uncle Sebek set the table, listening to him sniffle about how beautiful Master Lilia's family is.

Lilia might be practically retired, but his mind is still sharp. The information Yutu is able to pass on to him lands in good hands. When he tucks Yutu into bed that night, long after the boy has gone to sleep so as not to embarrass him he makes sure to take a good long look at the little miracle. He is beyond grateful Yutu exists, not even the Thorn Fairy could have given him a finer blessing (he'll have to make sure to tease you about that later, that's got to be a good pick up line) He will make sure that this risk his son has taken pays off, Lilia Vanrouge wasn't feared for no reason. Something it seems some foolish mortals need reminding of.

[arc-misadventures]

So for vtuber AU, several of the girls and/or boys from the academy have already made their debut in your entries. So I thought what if "Errantry" reacted to the recent re-debut of one of the members of the cabal, which is a short anime

the jepella rebelion

The VTuber: Maiden of the Cabal

Errant: Well, well, well. Look who’s back.

Errant smiled at the camera as he finished the video. He hadn’t expected an old acquaintance from his past to reemerge, it was certainly unexpected, but a welcome surprise nonetheless.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GoodDoggo: Who is she?

FallenDesire: You know her?

Lucious: She’s pretty.

QueensGuard: Sounds like you know her.

~~~~~~

Errant: That everyone is, FallenEmbers. No wait, Fall4Me, she goes by that now, that’s right. I knew her back when I used to play, The World of Remnant: Hunter’s and Monsters. It was this massive mmorpg that I played back in the day, it’s where I got the name, and design for my, VTuber avatar, The ErrantryPaladin. Fall4Me was, FallenEmbers back then. Hence my confusion.

Errant: It’s nice to see her coming back to the VTubing scene. I heard she was on before, but something happened. Oh, well I’m just happy she’s back, and hope she does well.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GrimmKitty: So you do know her.

HellJumper1337: Were you friends?

~~~~~~

Errant’s body fell back in his chair as a deep breath of air escaped trough his nose. He looked heavenlyward as he wistfully remembered the old days.

Errant: I did know her, we were friends… of sorts. I met her back when the, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters mmorpg was at its peak. I was still my lonely, Huntsman self while she was a, Huntress in the service of the, Cabal, the in game version. I never knew this when we first met, we just stumbled across one another, and did some missions together. Just because I played alone doesn’t mean I didn’t occasionally team up with other players. Little did I know she was trying to recruit me into the, Cabal.

Errant: Now, you have to understand something about how the, Acadimies, and the Cabal’s organizational structures work before I continue. You see to join a, Academy you as a player had to reach a minimum level of level ten to join an academy. This was to ensure that all new members were relatively skilled, no greenhorns, and the like. Basically, they wanted the new players to know the basic understanding of the game.

Errant: So once you joined a, Academy your characters bio gets the tag of: ‘Student of academy ‘X.’ And, once you reached level fifty you graduate from the academy, and become: ‘Hunter of ‘X’ academy.’ This was basic stuff to tell where people were from. You get different stats bonuses, and equipment based upon which academy you graduated from, not to mention players with certain individual characteristics tended to gravitate towards certain guilds. Giving each their own unique flavour to them all. The Cabal however, didn’t operate like that.

Errant: The Cabal recruited its members. Whether they be from, Atlas, or Shade Academy, it didn’t matter, their members would find you, scout you, and if you passed their tests they would offer up an invitation for you to join. While a graduated Hunter from, Mistral Academy would be said in their character profile, It wouldn’t say you were a member of the, Cabal. So its members could be anyone. This added a rather unique feature to the games overall gameplay. But, as I said; to join the, Cabal you had to display certain characteristics that the, Cabal would find desirable, and then they would invite you to join them. That’s how they did it to me, when FallenEmbers tried to recruit me.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

QuitenDown: Sounds like the beginning of a love story.

HellJunper1337: Yeah, a tragic one.

~~~~~~

Errant: So, whilst on a mission to find some rare metals to upgrade my gear I stumbled upon, Ember. Ahh, I liked to call her that, because it was quicker to say, and I’m lazy.

Errant: So, it turned out she was also looking for the same minerals that I was. And, since the area we were in is an a royal bitch to fight in we decided to team up, and we made a deal: She gets the first ore we find, then I get the next. Simple as that. We made off with a lot of ore that day… Anyway, after that we parted ways, but stayed in contact, we would occasionally join up on missions together, and generally had a blast. And, then she told me the truth, she was a member of the, Cabal, and wanted me to join.

Errant: Honestly I always had my suspicions about her. She always felt distant, and overly cautious around people. Anyway, I… I don’t remember what I said, but I remember arriving at the, Cabal’s headquarters in the, Grimm Lands, where she gave me a tour of the place. I learned how their operatives operated… ha… That sounds weird doesn’t it? ‘Operatives operated.’ Sounds like improper english, but no, it’s correct.

Errant: Uhhh… where was I…? Oh yeah! So, I learned the ins, and outs of how their operations worked, met some of their members… And, then I betrayed them by luring a, Titan Class Grimm into their base…

And, with those few words his chat exploded into a shower of startled, confused, and dare say, aroused comments.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

UWU_Knight: You did what?!

Lucious: Titan Class?!

RighteousPotato: Why would you do that?!

LRDirection: You betrayed them?

KinSlayer: Betraying an evil organization is one thing, but YOU betraying anyone is another thing entirely!

HellJunper1337: Evil, Errant confirmed!

RunnerDowner: Why?!

LouderDesires: Cue the sexy art!

PokéGirl69: Sexy evil smile~!

LitteDragon: You betrayed someone?

~~~~~~

Errant looked at the last comments before he rolled his eyes, and continued on with his tale.

Errant: Now, before I go on about how I did it, first you must learn why I did it. So, the Cabal was mostly jokesters; nothing overly evil, evil, just general bullies who raided supply lines, and caused the occasional, Grimm attacks on an innocent village. It annoyed people, but they added spice to the game. However, that commonly held opinion changed when the, Apprentice Massacre happened…

Errant: For context, we called players who were below level ten apprentices; They’re not at a high enough level to become academy students since they’re still in training so we called them apprentices. So, the Apprentice Massacre was an infamous incident where a bunch of, Cabal members got together, and started hunting down, and killing apprentices for the hell of it. Now this may not sound that bad, but there was a game mechanic where every time you die you’d lose one level. It happens every ten levels; say you’re level twenty seven; and you die eight times, you won’t go down to level nineteen, you’ll stay at level twenty. So, need I explain what happened, when a bunch of, Cabal members started killing a whole lot of apprentices?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

RunnerDowner: No way?

SumPenny: They dropped them to level one?!

KinSlayer: That’s mean!

RighteousPotato: What did they do spawn-camp them?

LunarFlower: I heard about this!

HeadHunter: I was there when it happened, it was brutal.

~~~~~~

Errant: Yeah, over a dozen, Cabal members who ranged from level thirty to forty started basically spawn camping, and killing apprentices in the starting area. There was about… seventy apprentices there, and they were completely outclassed by even the weakest members. So it was a slaughter, they tried to put up a fight, but what could they do?

Errant: However, fortunately for the apprentices, and unfortunately for the, Cabal members, I was there.

He smiled a wicked smile as he remembered that day, and more importantly what he did that day. It was the day that legends were born, and he was the start of them all.

Errant: I was in the area walking to the next area to do some quests I picked up, when I came across the, Massacre. I made a quick message to the Academies, and several, Hunter’s I was acquitted with for back up, and after that I went on a bloody slaughter. The Cabal members didn’t know what hit them! I mean, I was a solo player in my seventies, and it didn’t matter how many of them there were, I had soloed plenty of, Grimm hordes before so this was a cake walk for me.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

QuitenDown: I bet you looked really cool when you did that

Dragondeeznutz: Bet he looked hot too

VulpineRanger: He’s always hot.

GrimmKitty: But he can be hotter!

HolyNevil: True.

GermanLeopard: Good point

~~~~~~

Errant: I looked cool, least that’s what people said I looked like, chat. Back to the story, it was much easier when other players came in, and started protecting the apprentices with me. But, to make a long story short we managed to beat them off, and save the apprentices. A whole lot of things changed in the community after that happened.

Errant: Mostly codes of conduct, recently Graduated Hunter’s now had to mentor, and protect apprentices until they become students. A right of passage if you will. And, people’s general hatred towards the, Cabal, and what they did. People went inquisition on their asses. Specifically the, Atlas Academy, they really went after them.

Errant: …

Errant: Which now that I think about it actually makes sense since it’s, Atlas. If you know the lore, you’d understand.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

HellJumper1337: What did they do?

RangerFang: We went ham on them

BunnyDownUnder: Witch hunt baby!

LunaFlower: They hold grudges.

WinterBitch: Yeah, they’re a spiteful bunch.

~~~~~~

Errant: Yeah, they’re a spiteful bunch. I’m not spiteful, no I’m not spiteful at all chat.

Errant: I am however… very, very… Vindictive~! Ah~hahaha~!

Errant gave off a roguish smile that as he chuckled as he remembered all the incidents he scored his revenge against those that wronged him. His dark chuckle, and devilish smile brought an explosion of heart emojis throughout his chat feed.

Errant: Ahhhh… Good times.

Errant: Anyway, so I had a grudge against the, Cabal because I thought that what they did was cruel. People may tease, or prank apprentices , but what they did pushed the line. So, when FallenEmbers showed me to the, Cabal base I knew what I wanted to do. You see, the Cabal headquarters was located in the, Grimm Lands. And, there is a whole mess of, Grimm there: From Beowulf, Apathy, Beringals, Chimera Grimm. Delta to Alpha Class. And lastly, Titan Class.

Errant: Now, you may be asking: How does the, Cabal operate in the Grimm lands without getting attacked? Simple: They get covered in a Grimm repellent that prevents, Grimm from attacking you. The Grimm will attack you if you don’t attack them. So… I went over to one the nesting, Titan Grimm’s, and I… woke it up.

Errant: Titan Class Grimm tend to… incubate until they reach a certain… No, no that doesn’t really make sense… How do I explain this…?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

Corgimorgi: Waiting for the butterfly to hatch from its cocoon?

~~~~~~

Errant: Yeah, that’s works, thanks, Corgimorgi. It slowly grows in its cocoon until it hatches, and marches off to one of the kingdoms, and unleashes all hell upon them. If rumours arise that one of these were sighted, and, all available, Hunter’s is tasked to go out, and confirm if there is one. Everyone is terrified of these things, the first one that was ever encountered levelled, Shade Academy. It took them months irl to rebuild the academy, and it took them a year to reclaim all the land, Vacuo lost to a surge of, Grimm attacks.

Errant: At the time of the attack, Vacuo had a strength over nearly seven hundred members, and they barely, barely manage to defeat it. They had to call for help from other academies to kill the damn thing! So… How do you think the, Cabal managed to deal with a, Titan Class Grimm with barely two hundred members?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GoodDoggo: A bloody slaughter.

Gundam#UWU: They most likely got curb stomped!

HellJumper1337: I almost feel sorry for them.

KinSlayer: Did you stay to fight it?

~~~~~~

Errant: Nope! I got the hell out of there after it started attacking their headquarters. I let them burn! It took them days, like a week to kill it too. I know because I poked the bear, and I got Exp from when it died! Went up three levels because of that. I basically crippled the, Cabal for months after this! They couldn’t do a damn thing to anyone, they were so busy trying to rebuild they couldn’t be bothered with messing with anyone else.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

Likelyaghost: So you destroyed the, Cabal all on your own?

~~~~~~

Errant: No… I crippled the, Cabal all on my own. The Scorpion Incident… That, that killed the, Cabal…

Errant went quiet as he remembered a rather uncomfortable event that had transpired years ago. He took a deep sigh to calm his nerves before he continued to tell his tale of years gone bye.

Errant: So that’s how I met, Fall4Me. You know… I never told anyone that I was the reason the, Titan Grimm attacked the, Cabal. Fall4Me never contacted me again after the attack… I wonder why; Did she know I was the cause of the attack? Maybe that’s why she never contacted me… Probably called me a traitor for betraying her trust, and our friendship…

He stared off into the distance as he pondered these questions in his mind. He sighed another deep sigh before he shook his head, and readdressed his stream.

Errant: It matters not… What’s done is done. For that was then, this is now. So chat, to welcome back an old… acquaintance. We’re gonna raid her! Send her my well wishes, and welcome her into the fold chat!

Errant pressed the button, and sent his chat onward towards, Fall4Me’s stream with a smile on his face, and a roguish smile on his face. Thinking of all the good times they had together, and he couldn’t help but wonder, where did is long lost friend disappear to? But, most important of all:

Why is her model wearing an eyepatch?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me’s Stream

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Hello everyone, I am Fall4Me, and welcome to my stream.

Fall4Me: I am a, Huntress in the service of the, Grimm Cabal. And, I hope you enjoy watching me as we plunge the, World of Remnant into absolute chaos~!

Fall4Me: Here we will have discussions about very things: Music, video games, and various other things that… Hmm? What the?

The howl of a Beowulf echoed throughout the stream to signal a notification. One that she had not expected on her debut stream.

Fall4Me: I’m being raided? By who…?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

HellJumper1337: Hi, Ember!

GrimmKitty: She’s pretty

BunnyDownUnder: Love the eye

FallenDersires: Errant sends his regards!

Dragondeeznutz: Whoo raiding!

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Ember? Wait, how do you know that na… Wait… Errant? ErranrtyPaladin! H-He sent you?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

HellJumper1337: Yeah, he told us all about you

Corgimorgi: It was a cool story

SummerDaysNightmare: Were you friends, he didn’t sound certain about it?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: We are… were friends of sorts. But, tell me chat, what did he say about me?

There was an eagerness, and an honest desire to know about how her long lost friend felt about her, and she hoped her new found audience could answer her questions.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

DungeonSiver18: Why listen to us when you can watch him talk about you?

QueensGuard: Yeah, watch his vod!

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Hmmm~? Now doesn’t that sound like a novel idea~! Alright chat, let us see what our beloved, ErrantryPaladin thinks of us~!

~~~

Fall4Me: Ahh, I remember that day, I was looking for, Gundrite. It’s a rare metal used for upgrading a, Hunters gear. I was looking for the ore to upgrade my weapons; I had a pair of twin swords that I could stick together to use as a bow. I wanted to increase my damage output, and then I stumbled across, Errant doing the same thing. Just as we found our first piece of, Gundrite.

Fall4Me: I thought we were about to have a fight over who got the ore. But, he said I found it first, and it was mine to take. It was… surprising really. I often tend to get into fights against players while looking for rare resources. It surprised me more so that he recommended that we team up to gather more resources together. And, it worked very well. I got more then enough ore. It’s not a surprise really, a level thirty, Huntress, and a level forty, Huntsmen such as ourselves is a very powerful duo to face against.

~~~

Errant: ‘And, then I betrayed them by luring a, Titan Class Grimm into their base…’

Fall4Me: HE WHAT?! He sent that damn, Grimm after us?!

Her eye ignited in flames as she looked on his smiling face as he unapologetically admitted his crime.

Fall4Me: It took the entire, Cabal nearly two weeks to kill the damned thing!

Fall4Me: It levelled our training grounds, obliterated the landing pads, decimated the hospital, and spawn camped the entire, Cabal for weeks! Seriously it’s aoe attacks were so strong that a player would die, then respawn, and then be killed by its next aoe attack! There wasn’t a single one of us whose level wasn’t reduced to a tenth!

Fall4Me: Then we all got branded as, Titan slayers, and everyone knew that a Titan awoke in the, Grimm lands meaning we were easily marked out as cabal members because of that! We couldn’t go into the field because of that!

Fall4Me: We were crippled for months, and we never made it back to half of our original strength. It was hell!

Fall4Me: But, why?! Why would my sweet, noble, Wolf do this to us? Why…?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

BunnyDownUnder: She said ‘my wolf’

FallenDesire: Another one?

LRDirection: But why is he a wolf?

Lixxen: Guy knows what the ladies like

QueensBeedom: It’s his roguish charm

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Lets continue the video, perhaps he’ll explain why he did this…

~~~

Fall4Me: Oh…

Fall4Me: The Apprentice Massacre. That most certainly explains things…

~~~Stream Chat~~~

Gundam#UWU: Were you a part of it?

Dippernipper: We know you’re evil, but are you that evil?

Beowulf#38k: She’s evil, but will she stay hot evil?

~~~~~~

She laughed a whimsical laugh as she read her chat feed. Relishing in delight at their innocence.

Fall4Me: Oh chat, I am always hot; More often than not its metaphorically, but often at times its quite… Literal~!

Fall4Me gave the camera a sultry gaze before holding up her hand as she flexed her fingers as it was enveloped in flames. She held a blazing fist before setting it out, and resuming with his vod.

Fall4Me: But, no I wasn’t involved in the, Apprentice Massacre. Yes I was a member of the, Cabal, but I was off doing other things irl when it happened. Even then I wouldn’t have partaken in such an action. Because the headache they caused us because of that was an ungodly amount of work to fix.

Fall4Me: Well, we mostly went into hiding, and laid low for a while. I eventually went again to see if I could recruit, Errant to our side. He was a loner, and outcast I thought he would easily join the group. I thought he was genuinely interested in joining us. But, he appears more interested in how to destroy us. And, good gods did he ever manage to do so…

~~~

Errant: ‘So that’s how I met, Fall4Me. You know… I never told anyone that I was the reason the, Titan Grimm attacked the, Cabal. Fall4Me never contacted me again after the attack… I wonder why…’

She looked away nervously for a moment before readdressing her chat as she saw them flood her chat with the similar question of why she talk to her precious wolf after the attack.

And, why did she call him, ‘Her Wolf?’

Fall4Me: Oh… I was just too busy rebuilding the, Cabal to contact, Errant. Besides, I thought he would be upset if I tried to wrangle him into helping fix the mess the, Titan Class Grimm caused. Or, asking him to fix his mess as it were.

Fall4Me: Then the whole, ‘Scorpion Incident’ happened, and the, Cabal was done for. There was no chance of rebuilding the guild since members left; they all left, right, left, and centre. To the point it was only a, Cabal of one. No big battle, no final stand, it just slowly burned out, and poof! It was gone.

Fall4Me: I need to talk to, Errant again, explain some things, ask him how things are going. Reconnect with my friend for old times sake. Would you like to see that, chat?

~~~Stream Chat~~~

GrimmKitty: Yeah! That sounds cool!

HellJumper1337: Friends reunite!

BunnyDownUnder: Lets see where she stands

Beowulf#38k: Idk these two seem like a good pair

Lixxen: Old war stories sounds fun.

Helsreach: I bet he’d like to talk to you too.

RunnerDowner: Do eeet!

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Alright then chat. Let’s go see what my noble, Wolf is there~!

///

Ahhh… This took days to finish… I just couldn’t finish it. But, it’s done!

I like doing these lore posts, it’s fun to let the mind make stories like these.

Do you guys enjoy these kind of posts, or are they just a bore to you? That’s just something I’ve been curious about.

Till later then.

[starleska]

Dollface - the Toymaker x Real Toymaker!Reader

As a toymaker, you are delighted when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM'S TOYSHOP. But when you meet its eccentric owner - one eponymous 'Toymaker' - you enter into an impossible game with higher stakes than you ever imagined…with the risk of your deepest fantasy coming true. Rating: Mature. Tags: Dollification; Toyification; Truth or Dare; Reality-Bending; Humiliation; Psychological Torture; Fluff; Teasing; Touching; Forced Dancing; Mentions of Neglect; Cosmic Horror; Horrible Fake German. Reader is presumed female, but has a complicated relationship with gender and enjoys feminine terms of endearment. requested by the lovely @chronicbeans!! whilst this was originally meant to be a few-paragraphs long headcanons bit...but then it sprawled into a 13,000 word fanfic. my apologies to yourself, and to any German speakers in the audience 🙈💖 you can also read this on AO3. i hope you enjoy!

Toys are your life.

For as long as you can remember you have been fascinated by all manner of toys: everything from teddy bears to zoetropes; spinning tops to yo-yos. As a child you weren’t just interested in playing with toys—you wanted to reach inside of them, pick them apart, and understand every little detail about how they worked. Much to the chagrin of your parents, you spent more time trying to put your toys back together than you did actually playing with them. 

But all of your alternative playtime paid off. Now, as an adult, you run a modest yet successful local toymaking business, with your own vendor stall at the market and a popular online shop. Much of your work is custom, using vintage materials to replicate toys of the past, and you occasionally trade and sell real old toys too. As a result, you have something of a monopoly on the local toy scene, and feel you know every single toymaker and toy-collecting enthusiast in a fifty mile radius.

That’s why it’s a real shock when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM’S TOYSHOP late one night. 

The storefront is a gorgeous assault to the senses. Parked in the middle of the cold, grey street, the toyshop beams out crimson and gold onto the snow drifts, with all manner of classic toys peeking out at you through the windows. You are delighted to see an assortment of downy plush bears and hand-painted model motor cars crowding the shelves: so many it feels like the toyshop itself might burst at the seams. Your giddiness only increases as you get closer to the window. You can make out all sorts of fun, bright shapes within: countless colourful toys beckoning you and begging to be taken home. 

Yet it isn’t these treasures which catch your eye the most. Right at the back of the shop, near the counter, you spy a shelf lined with dolls. They are beautiful even at a distance: likely from the early 20th century, masterfully painted and wearing a fine rainbow of little dresses. Even from your vantage point you can see the impeccable craftsmanship. There’s immense detail in their delicate hands, and if you’re not mistaken, each doll has a crop of real human hair.

Perhaps most intriguing of all is the eyes. Their glass sheen looks so sad and wistful…far more emotion than a doll should be able to communicate.

If you didn’t know any better, you would believe the dolls were alive.

Oh, I shouldn’t , you tell yourself. I’m much too old now to be playing with dolls…and I keep all my old ones locked up anyway. I shouldn’t deprive some kid of a toy. This is a deeply silly excuse, and a hypocritical one. The vast majority of your clientele are adults, as are the brilliant toymakers you’re proud to call your friends. This is the perpetual double-standard you constantly believe and are always trying to rally against: that you are uniquely strange, and deserve to be ridiculed for your interests. 

The curious thing is that this idea doesn’t apply to toys more broadly…only to dolls. You have made countless dolls throughout your career, and yet owning dolls and enjoying them is something you’ve long nursed a hang-up over. But that is a can of worms you refuse to open up today. No , you decide, today I am going to be a normal adult who is confident about their interests and doesn’t feel an ounce of shame! I am going to go into this toyshop and look at those dolls, and that’s that! With your mind made up, you shift your backpack onto your shoulder, take a deep breath, and push through the toyshop’s door. 

The door slams shut behind you with the tinkle of a bell. You are immediately enveloped in warmth, and the delicious scent of varnished wood enrobes you like a fine dress. You can’t help but close your eyes and inhale: somehow, the toyshop smells just like your childhood.

“Hallo, meine kleine Mädchen! Komm in, komm in, be ge-removings yourselves from dee kalt! It is ein horrid evenings, is it not?”

You open your eyes in surprise, and see an older, greyish-blond-haired man leaning against the counter. He’s dressed in a most whimsical fashion, wearing a soft white work shirt coupled with a maroon waistcoat, and a brown apron stuffed with woodworking tools. A spotted ascot around his neck and a pair of pince-nez balanced at the end of his nose complete the look.

The man smiles at you like he’s known you all his life. You feel like you’ve been transported to another time.

“It is,” you agree, as you shake the snow drifts from your boots. “So sorry for dropping in so late—I’m surprised you’re still open.”

“Ah, but I am always having times for dee beautiful Fräulein,” says the man with a coy wink. “But vot is it zat is ge-bringings you here?”

You have to stifle a giggle. You know enough of the language to know the man’s German is terribly off, and his accent is borderline offensive. However, you also know that folks in the toymaking community tend to be eccentric, and you can forgive a corny, theatrical accent for the wonderful atmosphere of this shop. Who are you to judge if he wants to LARP as a Bavarian thespian?

Before you can reply, the strange man is suddenly beside you…although you don’t recall seeing him move. He has also removed his pince-nez. You blink, a little taken aback. How did he move so quickly? You wonder if you’ve eaten enough that day.

“I’m…a toymaker,” you say, trying not to sound freaked out. “I’ve never seen your shop before, and I thought I knew everyone in town who makes toys. What’s your name?”

The man’s eyes are blue, you notice—terribly blue, and sparkling in the soft light with unspoken mischief. “You are beings ein toymaker? Vy, zat is a coincidence…” He taps the side of his nose. “Many peoples ge-calls me by many names. But zey most oftens call me the Toymaker, und nothing else. It be gettings dee point across, nein? Und was ist your name?”

You tell him, and the Toymaker’s mouth splits open in a wide grin.  

“Das ist ein schöner name!” he says enthusiastically. “Truly, a magnifizent fit. It is not often zat I am gettings other toymakers in mein shop…I vonder, vot does your eye ge-fallen upon? Could it be mein cuddly collection of teddies? Oh, ja, I sees you are ge-needings ein soft companion for dese frosty nights. Or could it be mein train? Choo-choo! it goes, round and round all dee livelong day! I am ge-havings many customers mit ein eye for dee train.”

The Toymaker’s voice is smooth as butter, rich and inviting, and each word he speaks seems to add a little more colour to his delightful environment. You look around in awe at all of the toys, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the place. Just moments ago the shop seemed so small, with the abundance of toys seriously crammed in on the shelves, but now it looks impossibly vast: a veritable sea of playful delights. The little choo-choo train in question chugs along on its rails and moves past the doll shelf, drawing your eye back to their pretty little figures.

“Ah, dee Katze hast gotten your tongue,” says the Toymaker. He gestures to the dolls, and the gold ring on his right pinkie finger catches the light. “I too ams often becomings stricken by dee beauty of mein dollen…zey took me many nights to make, ja. Oh, but ge-look! Eins ist out of place. Zose fingers are so fiddly! Und dee hair…zo many eveninks ge-spended brushing out zeir tiny curls."

You watch as the Toymaker reaches up and begins deftly rearranging the dolls. His fingers are long and nimble, and they move with such care and attention, placing each doll’s tiny hands neatly in their laps and smoothing down their dresses. When you’re a toymaker, you grow to appreciate a pair of well-practised hands, and there’s something undeniably… charming , about this Toymaker and his cartoonish whimsy. It’s silly, but you feel a little heat rising in your cheeks. The attention he’s paying to such small, delicate objects…

…well, it’s only natural that your mind should wander to more practical applications of such hands.

“The dolls are gorgeous,” you say. “Do you offer any toymaking classes? The dolls I make have a bit more of a modern touch.”

That’s when the Toymaker laughs, and it is a strange laugh: it tinkles out of his mouth like a jingle, in a musical, ‘Ha ha ha HA ha ha ha!’

“Oh, mein dollen are sehr modern…moreso zan you sink,” says the Toymaker. He gives you another wink, as it seems he likes to give them out for free.

That’s when you feel the little clench in your chest. Oh dear, he really is quite handsome. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d caught feelings for a quirky, attractive stranger, and they were often not as well-dressed as the Toymaker. You have a tendency to get caught up in the realms of imagination, and have thought up more than a few daring trysts with pretty-faced people with whom you’d only exchanged a couple of words. You ought to grab a doll, leave, and have a quiet little panic attack about this interaction at home.

You force your eyes away from the handsome man and back to the shelf.

That’s when you spot her.

Somehow, a doll had escaped your notice. Right in the middle of her sad-looking rainbow sisters is another doll, simply and prettily done up in a powder-blue be-ribboned frock. Unlike the other dolls, this one is smiling in a dimpled way, and her eyes sparkle with a magical sheen not unlike that of the Toymaker’s. You note with some amusement that the doll has the same eye colour as you—hair colour, too. This isn’t strange on a doll, but it gives you the same jolt of satisfaction and déjá vu you get when meeting someone who shares your name.

“Ah,” says the Toymaker (now on your other side). “Dee dollen…zey speak to you, ja? Zey are ge-having ein chitter-chatter, all high up on dee shelf. Vot fun games zey have ven I ge-leaves the shoppen!”

Dollen isn’t even the German word for dolls, you know—it’s Puppen. But you get the sense that the Toymaker’s German accent is less an earnest recreation (and it’s certainly not his natural accent), but a pantomime version intended to amuse and entertain.

“I’m sure they do,” you say, but you’re distracted from the Toymaker’s little act. The longer you look at the doll, the stranger you feel.

You move closer to the shelf to get a better look, and are startled by what you discover.

It isn’t just that the doll on the shelf has similar hair and eyes to you: they’re both the exact same shade, even down to the imperfect flecks in your irises. 

You study the doll intently for a moment, blink, and— what? The doll’s hair is now the same length as yours. Was it always? No, you could have sworn just a moment ago it was not just a completely different length, but style.

You rise up on your tiptoes to get a better look at the doll, and are baffled by what you see. It’s as if detail is stacking on the doll right before your eyes, the way some video game maps load in piece-by-piece. You watch as texture is added to her hair, and light pools in her eyes. This level of craftsmanship is uncanny; it’s as if the Toymaker went out of their way to create a doll which resembles you.

“How did you do that?” You turn to the Toymaker, confused. “Did you know I was coming here?"

The Toymaker’s mouth contorts into an offended pout. “Now, you ge-vounds me. It is ein special privilege, having another Spielzeugmacher in mein shop. Tell me, vot do you sink of her hair? Es ist pretty, ja?”

“But that doll looks exactly like me,” you say.

You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. Suddenly the warm, cosy atmosphere of the toyshop feels more claustrophobic and oppressive. The Toymaker looks unbothered; he rests his chin on his hand and contemplates the shelf. 

“Zere ist ein…certain resemblance,” says the Toymaker, with an unusual, almost French affectation on the last word. “But you are just ge-havings, as zey say, ‘von of zose faces’. Ja, das ist richtig: ein dollface. Puppengesicht. All smooth und sveet. Vy, vot a lucky lady you are! She simply must be goings home vith you.”

You’re scrambling to work out what kind of practical joke this is, and how the Toymaker was pulling it off. You’d met a few eccentric toymakers with God complexes before, as they tend to go hand-in-hand: you’d briefly dated one who designed escape rooms in his spare time. But this is on another level…creating a doll which can be imperceptibly altered to resemble a person in real-time? You’d never heard of such a thing, and you can’t think of a non-creepy reason why someone would go to the trouble of making one.

Oh, hang on a minute, you think. This guy might just be a genius. “This is a marketing trick, isn’t it?”

You pull away from the Toymaker and lean against his counter, feeling terribly smug for having figured it out.

The Toymaker puts his head on one side, quizzical. Playing dumb, you think.

“I am not ge-followings you,” the Toymaker says. 

“You make dolls of the people you see ahead of time,” you explain. “People you know who will come in here at some point…collectors, other toymakers. Then you wait and put them on the shelf when they come in, maybe behind some hidden panel so you can spin them around when they get close. Then when they come in, it’s like they’ve found the perfect toy!” 

You’re so proud of yourself for having cracked the case, you want to pump your fist in the air. For a moment, you envision yourself wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking a pipe. Go me! But your victory is short-lived. During your diatribe, the Toymaker’s bright, childish grin had frozen on his face, and remained in place even during your brief mental celebration. But now the smile slowly slips like a mask peeling away from too-tight skin. In its place sits a stormy frown: one which clenches the muscles and wrinkles of the Toymaker’s face into an expression which says ‘insulted’.

“For shame,” says the Toymaker. “That’s twice you’ve accused me of cheating now. You really do me a disservice. I am bound by the Rules of Play, and would never resort to such cheap tricks.”

What the hell…? The Toymaker’s accent is completely different. Where before his voice was a thick soup of faux German, now it is a soft British breeze: a proper, formal accent which speaks the way trees rustle. You gape at him, dumbfounded. 

“Your accent is different,” you can’t help but say. You’re no longer just leaning against the counter—you’re actively pushing into it, with the edge of the countertop pushing into the small of your back.

The Toymaker raises an eyebrow at you, and smirks. “You are not half as stupids as you are ge-lookings,” he says, slipping the German back on like a heavy cloak. “But zen, I know you are playing ein game mit me, aren’t you?” 

You stare at the Toymaker. Something has shifted: the air is thick with a tension you cannot identify, but which you want to run away from. You keep staring, thinking that if you look away from those too-blue eyes for even a moment, you might just lose your grip.

You know for a fact that if you look back at that doll on the shelf, it will look even more like you than before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and you wish you weren’t lying.

The Toymaker laughs his musical laugh and wags his finger in your face. “Sehr naughty!” he says. “Oh, how natürlich dee lies kommen to sie, mein Schatz. You be ge-knowinks how to play games…zis ist ein lecker human mind game, und you are ge-tryings to deceive me.”

His voice slips smoothly back into the British:

“Do you think I don’t know all about your little fantasy?”

Your eyes go wide, and a choked noise escapes your mouth. No. There is no way that this man…this impossible toymaker could possibly know. You were always so careful, so sure to keep it all to yourself! Familiar shame and embarrassment wash over you in a hot wave as the Toymaker looks at you, looks into you, as if he can see the inner workings of your mind. Your mind grabs at the old, familiar justifications the way one might grab a newspaper for modesty if they found themselves naked on a bus. It’s perfectly normal to have fun little flights of fancy. Everyone plays make-believe sometimes, right? “But zey are embarrassing, zese thoughts of yours,” the Toymaker giggles. “Not dee kind of thoughts you can share mit deine Mutter. I am not ge-thinkinks zat you have shared your desires mit ein Partnerin…” There goes the eyebrow again, cocked sardonically to match the wicked curl of his lips. “Is zis true?” You feel nauseous. The firm pressure of the countertop underneath your palms is all that stops you from shaking. It feels as if the Toymaker is probing the inside of your skull, and using those skilled fingers to strip back the whorls of your brain and grab at the fleshy thoughts inside. 

“Get out of my head,” you say quietly.

“Oh, but zis is dee game I ge-likes!” says the Toymaker. “Humans mit zeir internal struggles. Desires mit dee most fun ideas, but you are too ge-frightened to say vot you vant. So you play games mit dein loved ones…dee hunting und dee exasperation. Oh, you simply vill not communicate!"

You don’t know when the Toymaker got so close to you, but now he’s towering over you, with his hands firmly planted on either side of the countertop. You’re close enough to count the spots on his ascot, and examine the year-lines etched around his mouth and eyes. When he smiles those lines crinkle, but not naturally: it’s the way a puppet’s arms reach for the stars when the marionette twists them upwards.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” you whisper. “I’ll buy the doll and leave.”

This close, the Toymaker radiates heat. He smells like rose petals and Christmas.

“You could…but zat vould be no fun,” says the Toymaker. “I propose ve solve zis in a more interesting vay…”

The Toymaker waves his hand across your field of vision…and transforms the centre of the toyshop. A small wooden table complete with chairs has popped into existence just in front of the counter. You gape at the sight. How did he do that?! “Let us play ein game,” he says. “If you vin, you can take dee doll free of charge. But if I vin…”

The Toymaker’s smile cracks like the earth preceding a quake.

“You vill stay vith me und play mein games forever!”

You have to give yourself credit for reacting as well as you did. Most people, if they were faced with a crazy fake German man who seems able to read your mind, may have had a breakdown or made a run for the door. But you’ve seen a lot of anime, and you understand that if you are challenged by a handsome, powerful man with magical powers and a delightful hairstyle, you cannot refuse the call. Your brain has shifted from This should be impossible, to It’s game time.  “Alright,” you say slowly. “You’re clearly very powerful. It seems like if I play a game with you, you have far more to gain than I do. A doll isn’t a good enough prize.”

The Toymaker smiles at you. “Ein girl after mein own heart,” he says. “How about zis: if you vin, I vill show you exactly how I make mein dollen, complete vith a demonstration. Zat is generous of me, nein?”

His words are laced with sinister venom, and it’s all you can do not to be poisoned.

“And I’m guessing that if I refuse your game, something terrible would happen to me?”

The Toymaker hums low in his throat. “Hm…not accepting mein game is always ein option…ja, you could do zat. Und yet…” 

You inhale as the Toymaker brings his face terribly close to yours. The skin of his cheek brushes your own. You can feel his soft breath as he whispers into your ear, British once more:

“I know you are so curious as to how I make my dolls. If you leave now, you’ll never know. And I think if you wanted to leave, you would have done so already.”

The Toymaker pulls away from you, leaving you with your face on fire. He’s right. In less than ten minutes, the Toymaker has sussed out your fatal flaw: your damned unstoppable curiosity. There have been countless times where your life would have been improved if you’d kept your nose in your own business…but this is different. The Toymaker isn’t just dangling a carrot: he’s already dug his hooks in you, and you are being reeled in with every second you spend looking into those impossibly blue eyes.

When you next blink, the Toymaker has moved again. He is sitting in one chair, his hands folded primly in front of him.

“Name your challenge,” he says.

You weren’t expecting this: you thought he would have a game in mind. “Any game at all?”

“There isn’t a game I don’t know,” says the Toymaker coolly. “It is common courtesy to allow the guest to pick the party game.”

You can’t help a nervous giggle. “This is a weird kind of party,” you say. 

The Toymaker acknowledges this by inclining his head. “Choose.”

Your mind scrambles over dozens of options. There are so many games…board games, card games, strategy games. Do we need equipment? How long does the game have to be? What games can you play with just two people? That’s when your brain starts to run in a very different direction, and a variety of… game positions …flash through your imagination with impunity.

A flush scalds up your neck. You look at the Toymaker, who raises his eyebrows in a knowing way.

He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You want to scream.

“Truth or Dare!” you blurt out.

That gets his attention. The Toymaker leans forward, his eyes quizzical. “Zat is non-traditional…yet apt,” he says. “Could it be zat you are ge-vantings me to force zat fantasy out of you, meine Liebchen?”

“No,” you lie. “I want you to tell me what you are, and why you’re doing this to me.”

“Then let’s get down to business,” says the Toymaker. “We take it in turns to ask each other Truth or Dare. A Truth corresponds to a question which must be answered truthfully, and a Dare is an action which must be carried out. The player earns one point for each Truth or Dare successfully completed.”

The Toymaker steeples his fingers together. You can’t pull your eyes away from them.

“If you refuse to complete a Truth or a Dare, or you contravene the rules of the game, you lose a point…and must complete a forfeit.” 

The way he says ‘forfeit’ sends a shiver down your spine. “What kind of forfeit?”

“Oh, dee usual,” says the Toymaker casually. “Somesing difficult or humiliating. I do not ge-liken to pre-plan zese things…I am preferings to be spontaneous.”

You are starting to regret your choice of game. This is a man who knows more about you than you’ve ever told your closest friend…surely a game like Truth or Dare would be pointless for him? So you ask: “Why would you want to play this if you can already tell what I’m thinking?”

The Toymaker frowns. “A good question,” he says. “The Rules of Play prevent me from having any unfair advantage over an opponent. Although my abilities will remain intact, anything which would tilt the game in my favour is out-of-bounds. I am physically incapable of cheating, and would thank you not to bring it up again. There are only two states of being which matter: winning, or losing. I intend to win.”

Fair enough , you think. “And what if I cheat?” you say. “I have a pretty good poker face. If you can’t look inside my head during the game, what if I just lie to you? How could you tell?” 

The Toymaker chuckles, bearing his mouth wide. To your horror, you see there are far, far too many teeth in his mouth.

“I can always tell when someone is lying to me.” 

“Six turns,” you counter, voice trembling. “Whoever has the most points at the end of those turns is the winner. And…you can’t choose Truth or Dare more than twice in a row.”

The Toymaker seems impressed by your game-making skills. “Agreed,” he says. “Let us begin.” 

He snaps his fingers, and all the lights in the toyshop go out. Above, a stagelight snaps into existence, pouring heat and light onto your scalp in a cascade. The Toymaker’s striking features are illuminated by this shift in lighting, casting the lines of his face with the severity of stage makeup. You swallow: he looks divine.

“Would you like to go first?” he asks politely.

“...No,” you say after a moment. “I think that honour should go to the house.”

Your gamble pays off: you realised that the Toymaker is a man with great respect for the rules of the game, and this offer makes him smile.

“How generous,” says the Toymaker. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” you say. 

The Toymaker taps his finger to his lips, considering. Then, he says, “Destroy something precious to you.”

It takes a few seconds for you to really process the Dare. When it hits, you are baffled. What kind of Dare is that? you want to say…but you don’t bother saying it aloud. What kind of toyshop is this—and what kind of ‘toymaker’ is he? All you need to know is reflected in the sadistic gleam in the Toymaker’s eye. This wouldn’t be an ordinary game, and contesting his requests would be fruitless. All you can do is make your move.

You take a deep breath, and reach down into your backpack. You didn’t leave the house this morning planning to bring anything precious to you, but you are a sentimental person by nature, and know you have one item which fits the bill. It’s with great sadness that you pull out a small, ratty teddy bear and place him on the table. The bear is old and beige and dressed in a crimson band leader’s outfit, complete with a hat and red-laced riding boots.

“Oh, ein teddy bear!” laughs the Toymaker, delighted. “How charming. He is quite dee looker, isn’t he?”

“He’s the first bear I ever made,” you say. “I was listening to some 90s British pop music, and the idea for his design just…popped into my head. I scribbled it down and pulled him together from scraps of fabric and repurposed stuffing in just a day. His name’s Neil…I keep him with me for good luck.”

Something about what you said is terribly amusing to the Toymaker, but you don’t know why. “Ein handsome name indeed,” says the Toymaker. “But I am afraid zat vill not be enoughs to ge-save him. Poor Neil. Now…vill you complete your Dare?” 

You take a deep breath. There was no turning back now; you’ve accepted the Toymaker’s game, and the predatory sheen in his eyes tells you that you can no longer just walk away. So you pick up Neil, grab hold of his little teddy bear ears—

And tear his head off, sending stuffing careening all over the table. 

“Oh!” says the Toymaker with a false gasp. “Vot an unfortunate end for poor Neil. I did not know zat you have such ein cruel streak.” 

“Shut up,” you say, trying not to look at Neil’s decapitated corpse.

Even though he’s just a teddy bear, you feel like you’ve just killed a defenceless animal. Neil’s lifeless button-eyes gaze up at you imploringly, as if asking why you’d do such a thing. You knock Neil’s head off the table and focus back on the Toymaker.

“That’s one point to me,” you say. “Truth or Dare?”

The Toymaker grins at you like a shark. “Dare.”

There are a thousand questions ricocheting around your head, but you ask the one which you know will keep you up at night: “Tell me how you did that thing with the doll.”

The violence of the Toymaker’s laughter makes you jump. He actually covers his mouth to quieten himself, but his shoulders shake even so. “Oh nein, nein, nein, you are ge-makings ein mistake!” he says. “You cannot be askings a question ven I have chosen Dare. Oh, meine Schatz, you have your lost your point…and must receive ein forfeit.”

Your veins run cold. “What? No! That was never in the rules!” 

“It is a common rule,” says the Toymaker, suddenly serious. “What is the point of distinguishing between a Truth or Dare, if a Dare can be a Truth?”

You want to protest…but his logic is infuriatingly sound. It’s exactly the kind of argument you could see yourself making if you were playing the game against a friend. You try to think of some other get-out-of-jail-free card—anything which would allow you learn how the Toymaker made that doll look exactly like you—but you come up short. You slump in your chair, and resign yourself to waiting for the next round.

“Oh, do not ge-look so sad,” says the Toymaker. In mock sympathy, he makes a little tutting sound against his teeth. “Now, about zat forfeit…ah! I am ge-knowings just dee sing.”

The Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes burst into a flock of doves.

You scream and leap up from the table, batting away at the birds scrambling over your skin. They coo and and flap in your face before struggling upwards and flying into the rafters. Shocked, you look down to find yourself still fully clothed…but with a wardrobe change. You are now clad in a beautiful, powder-blue dress. The fabric is inhumanly soft and threaded through with white ribbons.

“Oh my God!” you yell. “What did you do?!”

The Toymaker is doing his best to stifle a giggle behind his hand. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I think the colour is rather fetching on you.” 

You clutch at the skirts of your dress, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. There is no way this is possible…you hadn’t felt anything, not even a shift of your own clothes or the sliding of new fabric against your skin. One moment you were wearing your own clothes, and the next you weren’t. It’s as if your clothes were merely a covering, and when they transformed into doves and flapped off, they left only your dress behind. 

You move your legs under the layers of fabric, and blush when you discover you’re wearing a pair of frilly stockings. As you stick out your feet, you can see your feet are clad in a shiny pair of Mary Janes. It’s with a sick feeling in your stomach that you realise what the dress is.

It’s the same dress that the doll on the shelf is wearing.

"You're sick," you hiss.

The Toymaker cocks his head to one side. “Indeed?” he says. “How odd. I thought I was being rather generous, giving you a helping hand towards becoming your true self.” He snickers at you. “If I am sick, then I do wonder what that makes you. My mind is full of games, but the inside of your head is full of so much more.”

You ignore the Toymaker and hold your own arms, shrinking back down into your chair. Yet as you look down at the dress, you can’t help but feel a pang of longing. The dress is a perfect fit, one which could have been custom-designed, and the fabric is truly stunning in appearance and quality. With its puffy sleeves and shapely waistline, you know if you were alone you would have given your new skirts a twirl.

But you can’t let yourself get lost now. This is as much a mind game as it is a real one, you realise. The Toymaker is eyeing you like a piece of meat, and it’s clear that he is capable of so much more than a costume change. You must press on with the game. 

“I want to keep playing,” you say.

“Wonderful,” says the Toymaker. "We’re currently still at zero points each, with two turns down. Unfortunately, your turn was taken due to the forfeit. I must ask you: Truth or Dare?” 

You don’t allow yourself time to think about it: “Dare.” 

The Toymaker’s smile is knowing. “It is a fool’s errand, trying to delay the inevitable. I believe my initial suspicions were correct…you do want the Truth to be pried from you, don’t you? Perhaps that makes the shame a little less potent. After all, the mean, scary Toymaker made you dress this way. It wasn’t your fault…you couldn’t help it. Am I getting warmer?”

Your face is getting warmer, and it’s getting increasingly hard to meet the Toymaker’s gaze. “It isn’t my fault that my opponent is insane,” you say, with venom. 

Somehow, the Toymaker’s laugh is German. “Ah, zere is zat fire. You are quite dee entertaining playmate, meine Liebling. I am not ge-xpectings you to verstand games of dee mind…but I do find zem exhilarating. Dee expressions ge-crossing your face right now…I vish you could see zem.”

You scowl at the Toymaker. “Just give me your Dare.”

The Toymaker shrugs at you. “If you insist. I Dare you…to perform a dance befitting a fine young lady such as yourself.”

Oh, God, no. This is a nightmare of a Dare. “I—I’m not a dancer,” you say. You can feel your blush crawling up your neck. You envision yourself prancing around in your new dolly-dress, and the embarrassment makes you physically cringe.

“Oh, zat is not ein problem!” The Toymaker beckons you to look under the table. When you do, he taps his own shoes against the floor, performing a rhythmic tap-step. “Zose lovely Schuhe I gave you vill ge-helpen sie along. Provided you are villing to perform dee dare, your tanzen is all taken care of. All you are ge-needings to do is stand up, und take drei steps backwards.”

The Toymaker leans back in his chair and looks at you expectantly. The list of excuses which blossomed into your mind when he first suggested the Dare are dwindling rapidly, each one seeming more pathetic than the last. But…maybe there is a way out of this?

“What about music?” you ask. “Surely you can’t expect me to dance without music.” 

The Toymaker shakes his head at you. “Do not ge-worry about dee musik! I have it all covered. Unless…you vish to forfeit once more?” The idea of any other part of your body spontaneously transforming into an animal is enough to make you scramble to your feet. Immediately, you are self-conscious: the dress is equal parts beautiful and ridiculous, and is so poofy and frilly that it gives your lower half the shape of a bell. You haven’t felt this kind of embarrassment since you were in school: the dry throat and sweaty palms before getting up on stage for assembly. Feeling like a silly child, you can’t help but look at the Toymaker, searching those mirthful eyes for guidance. But the Toymaker simply shoos you, indicating for you to step back.  Hesitantly, you take one step away from the table. Then another. Then, one final, gentle step.  Without warning, the floor of the toyshop erupts! From beneath your feet a wooden stage springs up, unfurls around you and traps you like a box. You shriek and try to stumble away, but your new dancing shoes root you firmly to the spot. A spotlight bursts into being above your head and illuminates your frozen self in all your newfound frilly glory.  You look down from your new height to see the Toymaker sitting in what is now the front row of a vast auditorium; the toyshop’s interior has vanished. He whoops and grabs a fistful from a cartoonishly large bucket of popcorn. You open your mouth to yell at him, and maybe call him some horrible names you haven’t thought of yet. But before you can, music starts blaring from all sides of the auditorium. It’s a grating, repetitive tune: some ghastly combination of twee guitar and twinkling piano…and it’s so familiar . You know this song, but what is it? And why does it sound so…childish?  The music hits a powerful note. Your mouth opens unbidden, and from your vocal cords a voice which is decidedly not yours belts out the opening lyric to a familiar nursery rhyme:  “I’m a little teapot, Short and stout!” Your voice is loud and beautiful, and you project better than any Broadway singer. You can do nothing but watch yourself in abject horror as your knees bend in time with the music, and your shiny shoes send you toppling along the stage in time with the song.  “Here is my handle Here is my spout!” You try to scream and stop, but your body is no longer in your control. Your arms bend at frightening angles, and your hips send your neck careening to the side with a crack . A rictus grin is firmly plastered onto your face, and your mouth stays open and singing: “When I get all steamed up, Hear me SHOUT!…” Your hands flap and your toes point and you screaming on the inside, begging for this to stop, stop, STOP ! But the infernal music is inside of your head and it’s pushing in on all sides, and no matter how much you cry and beg and plead your mouth won’t work except to belt out the final words of your song. “TIP me over and POUR. ME. OUT!” At the last line, your knees give out and you collapse face-first onto the stage. A grand cheer goes up from the auditorium. You twist around, trying to see if the Toymaker has conjured up an audience to witness your humiliation—but he is the only one present. The Toymaker is on his feet and giving you a standing ovation. “Vunderbar!” the Toymaker cries as he claps enthusiastically. “Oh, you are dee most darling little teapot, ja. Zis is a fine game we are ge-havings!”

“What—did—you—do?” you gasp on the floor. You feel like your lungs have been crushed. Something the Toymaker did seized up everything inside of you and folded them up like paper. Now it’s as if you really are a doll: crumpled up and discarded in the corner when your owner is finished playing with you. Although you’re quite sure the music has stopped, the melody is blasting in your head in a maddening loop. You try to move, but your legs won’t work. 

“Oh, don’t be zo dramatik. Eversing I ge-make brings viele fun,” says the Toymaker. “Herzlichen Glückwunsch …das ist ein point to you.”

You don’t see the Toymaker get up on the stage, but the next thing you know, he’s crouching down next to you. Without warning, the Toymaker lifts you up under the arms and pulls you to your feet as if you weigh nothing at all. You try to stand but your rigid muscles struggle with the task and you stumble, falling right into the Toymaker’s chest. He chuckles, and you hear it rumbling softly in his chest. His skin is impossibly warm…and you can’t hear a heartbeat.

The two of you stand like that for a long moment, with you enveloped in the Toymaker’s arms. When pressed against his waistcoat, the maddening song infesting your brain quietens, and is replaced with an easy sort of calm. It’s strange…all the questions and anger and terror seem to just burn away. They’re forgotten in the simplicity of being held like a doll.

Eventually, your senses kick in. You manage to pull yourself away from the Toymaker, and you refuse to look at his face. “I just want to get on with the game.”

“Of course.”

The Toymaker waves his hand and the stage and auditorium vanish. You are transported back to the interior of the toyshop, with its familiar cuddly audience and the table taking centre stage. You sit back down at the table shakily. You know when you look up the Toymaker will already be sitting across from you…and you’re right, even though you didn’t see or hear him pull back his chair. His eyes are bright and curious. 

“Okay…Truth or Dare?”

The Toymaker places his hand on his chin and pretends to be deep in thought. After a while, he says, “Truth."

You very nearly ask him the same question you were denied just before: how was he able to make that doll look exactly like you? But the momentary calm offered by the Toymaker’s embrace has had a quieting effect on your mind, and a spike in your critical thinking skills. You have to think strategically; if you want to win, you need to ask him a question which will throw him off-guard. Asking him about the doll wouldn’t be a challenge because he likes to gloat, and to tease. But if you win, you can have your answer to that question and an actual demonstration…

…plus, you get to keep your freedom. Don’t forget that.

So you stare at the Toymaker and wonder…what causes a man (creature, entity, etc.) to end up this way?

“Tell me about your childhood,” you say.

The smile is wiped from the Toymaker’s face in an instant. His mouth twists in discomfort and anger. For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel a pleasant curl of satisfaction in your guts. The game is on, you think.

“What’s wrong?” you ask out loud. “Do you have a problem with the question? Because you can always forfeit—”

“I. Will. Not. Lose.”

The Toymaker’s fists are on the table now: they’re clenched and shaking. Although he’s looking at you, his mind seems far away, trapped somewhere else. After a beat, he leans forward, grabs your head and brings your foreheads together so they’re just barely touching.

“You asked for this,” says the Toymaker gravely. “I will do more than give you the answer to your question. I will show you. Close your eyes.”

The closeness is invigorating: the Toymaker’s hands are strong against the sides of your head, and you wonder for a second if he could pop your skull like a balloon. You consider saying no and demanding he just tell you the answer, but the look on the Toymaker’s face is so intense that you cannot refuse. It’s that terrible curiosity in you, willing you to stand at the edge of the universe and take a step off the cliff.

So you do as your bid, and close your eyes…

…only to awaken in a void.

To say there is nothing around you is an understatement. Your idea of nothingness is very particular: blackness; emptiness, an absence of sound and light. But this is something else entirely. You can’t even feel the lack of something in this place because there simply isn’t anything to feel. From the moment you open your eyes you feel the contradiction of yourself as a physical being, standing in this vacant not-space. There is less than nothing here. There is zilch. There is negative zero. There is null.

You try to get your bearings by looking around, but there are no bearings to get. This is a nothingness which exists beyond your comprehension. Just standing in this nothingness makes your jaw tighten and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. This is a phobic realm which is the antithesis to life.

And it is so, so cold. 

“This is where I grew up.”

You jump. The Toymaker is standing beside you, arms folded behind his back. He surveys the nothingness with humble respect, the way a weary sailor surveys the ocean.

“How?” You try looking around again, but without anything to anchor gaze on, your eyes just swing back round to the Toymaker. “There’s nothing here.” 

“Nothing except for me.”

The Toymaker sits down on the emptiness, cross-legged. Feeling discombobulated in the lack of space, you sit down too, next to him, and wonder how that’s possible. You hug your elbows, trying to fend off the omnipresent cold.

“We are outside of your universe,” says the Toymaker quietly. “Below it, as a matter of fact. We are in a pocket realm, like the hollow in a tree branch. Here there was nothing for a very long time…so long, that I do not know how to count it. The void is indifferent to such concepts.

“I was a child for an eternity, and many more eternities after that. Merely a conscious speck suspended in forever. At the time I had no form. No body, no face, and not really a mind. I was a collection of distant ideas and fraught, base emotions. There was no reason for me to have either a solid shape or a brain. I existed only in relation to the void, and the void went on forever. All I had to entertain myself were my games.”

With a flick of the wrist, the Toymaker conjures a ball into existence. Then another. Then another. He does this over and over again until he is juggling at least twenty balls. His hands move in a blur as he juggles the balls effortlessly. He tosses them higher and higher, so high that you have to crane your neck to see. Eventually you lose sight of the balls in the nothingness.

But then, the Toymaker sighs…and you notice that the balls are disappearing. This continues for about a minute, the balls growing fewer in number until he’s down to just three…and then there’s only two, so he’s not really juggling at all.

Finally, the Toymaker catches the last remaining ball and holds it up to your face. A frost has grown along its leathery side.

“Playing games can keep you warm,” says the Toymaker, “but only for a little while. Eventually, the cold gets in. And the cold devours everything."

“How did you survive here?” you ask quietly. You can’t raise your voice above a whisper: it feels disrespectful.

“Death isn’t something I am capable of experiencing,” says the Toymaker. “I can never die from the cold. But I can still feel it.” 

The Toymaker looks at the ball in his hand, and it catches fire. You gasp and pull away, but the fire only burns for a few seconds: the flames are quickly extinguished by a new crop of frost, growing over the ball’s surface like a disease.

In moments, the Toymaker is holding nothing but a ball of ice.

“I’m…sorry,” you say.

It’s a feeble reply, and you know it. The cold here is wrapped into the environment itself. This no-space could well be made of nothing but a creeping, insidious chill. It’s worse than the kind of cold which slams into you, like the jump from the shower to a towel on a winter night, or the way your cheeks are slapped when stepping outside on a snowy day.

This cold is sinister. 

It waits.

It seeks out warmth wherever it can, wraps itself around that spark of heat, and crushes it frozen.

The Toymaker runs hot, you remember with a shiver.

No wonder. The Toymaker fends off your weak sympathies with a shake of his head. He stares off into the nothingness, and continues to speak.

“I thought it would just be me and the void forever. But then one day, I heard laughter! It was a sound utterly foreign to me. I was so frightened, I spent millennia curled tight up into a ball, cringing away from the sound. But I could hear them now…beings, with shape and light and thoughts. As the epochs stretched before me and the void remained still, I found myself drawn to their laughter.”

The Toymaker’s eyes glitter with recollection. “I learnt how to poke small peepholes into the fabric of the void, and peer through at the shapes. And oh, the things I saw! These beings, they played games , just like me! Games which used pieces and strategies and all manner of wonderful toys. I wanted to have them all. Needed to have them. So I did. I fashioned myself fingers, and with those fingers I fashioned toys and toys and toys, enough to fill up every child’s toy room in every universe!"

You watch as the Toymaker trembles with excitement. His voice has swollen to fit the void: a rallying cry against the darkness. He looks so proud of himself…but only for a moment. 

“After a while, my toys grew old,” he says sadly. “They say a boy becomes a man when he must throw his toys onto the fire in order to keep himself warm...and the cold never stops. I realised that wood and string were all well and good, but they had no personality of their own…and I had no opponent.”

The Toymaker turns to you then. There’s a manic look in his eye. “So I began to lure in the flesh-and-blood creatures,” he says. “It was easy enough once I learned to assume their shape…especially the early ones, who weren’t so bright. And what shapes I would become! I enjoy this shape so much that I’ve decided to keep it permanently, with the odd touch-up every half-century or so. Being handsome helps bring in the players.”

There goes that easy wink again, smooth and charming and drawing you in like the lure on an anglerfish.

“And…that’s why you’re here today?” you ask. “You just want to play games with us?” 

The Toymaker’s laugh is mean. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “All that exists is to win, or to lose. I don’t want to play games with you. I simply want to win.”

The two of you stand in silence for a while, contemplating the nothingness. The longer you stay, the more you can feel the chill sliding its icy fingers over your flesh. It crawls up your socks and settles into the gaps behind your knees. It causes wet, cold dew to form at the edges of your eyelashes. It even seeps into the spaces between your skin and fingernails.

You wish you hadn’t asked for this Truth.

“One point to you, Toymaker,” you say through chattering teeth.

The Toymaker starts: clearly he’d forgotten all about you. The void has a sobering effect on him, it seems. How did a little boy manage to have any imagination in this place at all? “Yes,” says the Toymaker with a worn smile. “One point each.”

The next time you blink, the void is gone. You are returned to the familiar warmth of the toyshop, and are still sitting at the table across from the Toymaker. But now, even as the cold sloughs off your skin and your cheeks begin to heat up again, you can see the toyshop for what it is. The bright lights and colourful attractions are nothing more than decorative wallpaper for a frozen, ephemeral darkness, ever-creeping in on the corners of your vision.

When the Toymaker speaks again, his German is back in full force, and you wonder if he’s trying to stave off how frightened he really is.

“Zat is vier turns down,” he says. “Mit only zwei to go. I ge-believe it is my turn, ja?”

Oh, hell: he’s right. You’d gotten so caught up in the impossibility of the Toymaker’s mind that you’d forgotten you’re playing a very dangerous game. But the Toymaker’s smile looks fake now, and the way his eyes glimmer seems less like mischief, and more like withheld tears. For the first time you want to stop this game…not just for you, but for the Toymaker too.

But that’s not how this would be played. The rules are fixed, and you’ve seen what the consequences could be. Worse, you only have one response left to give. By the way the Toymaker is grinning at you, you know he’s remembered this rule too.

“Truth or Dare?” he asks.

You swallow, before giving the only answer you can: “Truth.”

The Toymaker laughs a little too loud. “Now, you had better nots ge-try to get out of zis one,” he says. “I vant you to tell me dee truth: vot exactly is your fantasy? I vill be requiring details.” 

There it is: the question this whole game has been building up to. This situation is impossible and ridiculous. Here you sit, surrounded by beautiful toys in your gorgeous dress, playing a game with an unbelievable, broken man who can rewrite your entire reality with nothing more than a thought. Yet you still can’t just open your mouth and give him the answer. Somehow, even in the face of impossible adversity, you are still beholden to your human embarrassment.

“If I tell you…” you say slowly. “...Do you promise not to laugh?” 

The Toymaker’s eyebrows knit together. He looks distressed by the question. “All players should be treated with respect,” he replies.

That’s not the answer I want, but it’s the only answer he can give , you think. But maybe that’s the key here. You would never willingly part with this information…but the Toymaker just did the same thing for you. He didn’t have to show you where he came from. He could have talked around it, given you the crib notes, and you would have been none the wiser. The Toymaker showed you vulnerability just by allowing you into his history.

You owe him that same level of respect.

“I didn’t get much attention when I was growing up,” you say. “It wasn’t a bad upbringing, but I was just kind of…left, a lot of the time. I wasn’t looked after. There was always some sort of problem that needed fixing, and my parents never had time for me. No one bothered to check on me, so I just had to figure things out for myself. I spent most of my time alone in my room…just me and my toys.”

“That sounds familiar,” says the Toymaker, and the sympathy in his voice is real. “How did you pass your time?”

“I took my toys apart,” you say. “I think my parents felt guilty for leaving me alone a lot, so there was never a shortage of toys. But I wanted to figure out how they worked. That seemed much more interesting than actually playing with them, you know?” 

The Toymaker smiles with approval. “Dee keen eye of a toymaker is a gift,” he says. “But I sense you are delaying your real story…” 

You curse inwardly: again, he’s right. You cannot hide any longer.

“I took apart all of my toys…except for my dolls.”

That gets the Toymaker’s attention: those bright blue eyes light up with interest. “Go on.”

“I had a set of five dolls,” you say quietly. “Generic dolls. Sparkly, brushable hair, and little swappable outfits. Nothing special. But even when I was really small I couldn’t hurt them. I was terrified of damaging them in any way. There weren’t any other kids around to talk to, and my parents weren’t home, so I just…talked to the dolls instead. I knew it was weird, but in my head the dolls were more sentient than my other toys. I thought they could really understand me.”

The Toymaker starts back up in his German voice: “Ah, zere is nothing more ge-saddening zan a lonely Kind. Zat is why decapitating poor Neil vas being no problem for you, zen?” 

“Yeah. It still hurt, but not for the reasons it would hurt most people.” You swallow; this is the really difficult part. “The older I got, the more toys I had, but I never added to my doll collection. My parents would joke all the time about how I was becoming a ‘little lady’. When I became a teenager there was so much pressure to be pretty, and girly…and it made me feel sick. So I tried to fight back against it. I cut my hair, I swore off pink, and I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress.”

The words stick in your throat. You look up at the Toymaker, hoping for some kind of mercy, but you don’t find it. But he isn’t mocking you, either: he just sits and waits for you to continue.

“I locked my dolls away,” you say. “I pretended I had thrown them out…but secretly, I’d sneak them out, and play with them. I’d brush their hair, and mend their dresses. I still do.”

The Toymaker leans in. “Why?”

“I…I wanted to be like them,” you whisper. “They are so pretty. The long, flowing dresses and the perfect makeup…they’re dazzling in a way I could never be. I can never, ever be that beautiful.”

You twist the fabric of your dress between your fingers fitfully, and force yourself to say it: 

“I always wanted to be someone’s favourite doll."

There’s silence in the toyshop. You stare down at your lap, your heart pounding and your face flushed. Stupid, stupid…! Your eyes well up with hot tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at the Toymaker.

“Und zen you arrive here,” he says. “Meine beautiful dollen drew you in.”

“Yes,” you say quietly. “If I can’t be loved like a doll, then at least I can give them love instead. If I were a doll, maybe things would be easier, you know? Maybe…”

You can’t help the little choke-sob which escapes your lips.

“...maybe someone would take care of me."

The tears fall freely into your lap now and stain the beautiful fabric of your dress dark. You feel disgusting: worthy of ridicule. I deserve whatever happens to me now, you think, your brain awash with old, dark feelings you’ve kept locked up just like the dolls in your closet.

But it’s the Toymaker who snaps you out of his reverie. You didn’t hear him move, but you flinch when his fingers slide under your chin and tilt up your face towards him. Your tears cast him in a watery halo.

“Mein Liebling, stop ge-crying,” he says. “I have made sehr many dollen over dee years, und many of zem have been beautiful. But you are somesing else entirely entirely. Ein living, breathing, villing doll, so cute und poseable. Oh, you und I vill have zo many adventures together! You could be mein prized possession, und I vill hold you and play vith you from dawn zu dusk.”

The Toymaker’s words send a shudder through your body. Blood thrums at the surface of your skin and pools in your cheeks and neck. The Toymaker leans in until your noses are almost touching. He’s so very close to you now…close enough that he could kiss you. 

But just before he reaches your lips, the Toymaker moves to the side and whispers into your ear:

“Dee game is not yet over, meine schöne dollen. You have one final question to ge-ask of me. Do it, und zis vill all be over…one vay or another.”

You can feel him smiling gently against your hair, and it makes you want to sob. Oh, please let this torture end…! But you’re in the Toymaker’s grasp now, in the final throes of his game, and you know you have to finish this or your suffering will never be over. There is only one turn left. You have to try, one last time, or you would spend the rest of your life at the beck and call of this madman.

“Truth or Dare?” you manage to croak out.

The Toymaker lets your face go. “Dare."

You take a deep breath. This is your last chance.

“Let me go.”

The Toymaker takes a long, long moment to process your answer…and then he starts to laugh. Really, really hard. The tinkling arpeggio of his laughter builds and builds until it seems to shake the very walls of the toyshop. For a moment, you are terrified that it’s all going to come crumbling down like a house of cards.

“Oh, perhaps becoming ein dollen hast eroded deine brain, ja?” says the Toymaker, the arrogance flashing in his teeth. “I am not ein genie you kann outsmarts. I am afraid zat since letting you go ist your prize, you cannot request it of me. So, you have lost ein point, putting us at a tie…und you must complete ein forfeit once more.”

No. No. NO! “That’s not fair!” you yell. The tears are streaming down your face in earnest now; all of the distress of this game and the Toymaker’s psychological torment can no longer be contained. 

“Oh, und here comes dee tantrum,” says the Toymaker with a sigh. “I hates it ven zey get like zis. You must have ein forfeit…und I think I have dee perfekt idea to stop your ge-crying.”

The Toymaker snaps his fingers again. You open your mouth to scream at him…but nothing comes out.

You try again, but your mouth just flops open like a fish, with no sound attached to it whatsoever.

The Toymaker has stolen your voice. 

“I have assisted you in another core aspect of your doll transformation,” says the Toymaker, the British swooping in over his tongue with ease. “I do not think most dolls can talk, do you?”

You awful…! But the words can’t even die on your tongue, because they never reach your tongue in the first place. There is a total disconnect between your mouth and your brain. Although you can fashion your lips into the correct shapes and try to push the air into forming syllables, none of them can escape your mouth.

The Toymaker has silenced you, taking away perhaps your only remaining asset in this game.

You mentally tally up the points, and realise he’s right. You are now tied, and six turns have passed. 

“But I cannot tolerate a tie. Dee rules dictate zat ve must perform a tie-breaker challenge…” His accent ripples between the German and British easily, as if he can’t decide between childish delight and cool professionalism. “Do you have any suggestions for a tie-breaker?"

The devastation of losing your voice almost made you look over this detail. Yes, he’s right: for all of your suffering, the Toymaker hasn’t actually managed to get a point over you. That means all is not lost.

That means you still have a chance to win.

But you cannot strategise in a vacuum: much less when you can’t speak. The Toymaker looks at you in amusement, as if expecting you to try and talk anyway. You could have written a message down on a piece of paper, or typed it on your phone, but you decide not to give him the satisfaction. The Toymaker has already gotten you on the rules twice: you are going to play within his boundaries and win fair and square. 

You don’t see where he produces the hat from. A flourish of the arm, and it’s suddenly in his hands: a beautiful top hat which would have gone perfectly with a tuxedo. The Toymaker flips the hat over and proffers it to you.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly smile. 

You reach into the hat and are surprised to find a variety of small, paper tickets. After some rustling around, you pull one out and read it. When you do, your eyes go wide.

WHOEVER HOLDS THEIR BREATH THE LONGEST IS THE WINNER.  “Vot fun!” exclaims the Toymaker, clapping his hands together in excitement. “I must ge-varn you, I am a very gut schwimmer, and kann hold mein breath for ein long time.” 

But do you even have a lung capacity?! is what you would have asked if you could. How was this fair? The Toymaker is clearly an extradimensional being, and his physical body doesn’t seem to conform to the laws of physics, space or time…anything that would put a real challenge to this game. But you can’t say so: you have no way of telling him.

Besides…is it cheating if that’s just how he is? Is it cheating if he’s just better at the game?

A loud tick-tocking draws your eye to the right side of the toyshop. Against the wall (where it definitely didn’t exist before) is a grandfather clock. Both of the clock’s hands are almost at the 12. This was news to you; you’d arrived at the toyshop sometime around 8pm.

“Ve vill begin when ze clock strikes twelve,” says the Toymaker. “Zere are no fancy rules…ve just start ge-holdings our breath, until eins of us cannot anymore.”

The grandfather clock ticks closer to your demise. You look at the Toymaker in desperation, clasping your hands together in a silent plea…but he just looks at you coolly. Now, you are nothing but an opponent to defeat. You are an obstacle ready to be demolished. 

Well, I am not helpless. If anyone is going to decide the winner of this game, it’s going to be me. With only thirty seconds remaining, you fish around in the pocket of your backpack and pull out your phone. You set up your video camera, prop the phone up against a toy monkey holding a pair of cymbals, and hit the record button.

“Ah,” says the Toymaker. “In case of ein photo-finish. Gut idea.”

There’s a cold fire in his eyes now: something which ignited when he took you into his personal void. You have no moves left, and no gameplay strategies to implement. It is clear that he is the master of games, and you may as well already be his doll. 

But hell, you are going to try your best.

The grandfather clock strikes twelve with a loud, booming chime, and you suck in the largest breath of your life. You don’t balloon out your cheeks: instead you opt for a subtle approach learnt from musical training, where you draw in the oxygen deep into your lungs and will it to sit there for as long as you can handle.

By comparison, the Toymaker doesn’t look like he’s holding his breath at all. You merely hear him stop breathing. He looks totally at ease.

The first ten seconds are child’s play.

The first twenty seconds are fine.

The first thirty seconds are acceptable.

But by the forty-second mark a playful fire start to burn in your chest, and the urge to take a breath begins to beg. Inside you curse yourself, wishing that you’d practised— but why on earth would I have practised such a useless game?! You look at the Toymaker. Big mistake. He waggles his eyebrows at you silently, rippling them in an over-the-top-sultry manner. You feel your lips quirking up into a smile…You can’t believe it! He’s trying to make you laugh!

So much for respecting the rules, you think to yourself. Your chest is really starting to hurt now. But then you wonder, is that really cheating? If the Toymaker can try to make you laugh, what if you can make him laugh too? But you shut down that idea immediately: if you prancing around in a frilly dress singing I’m A Little Teapot didn’t make him laugh (just clap!), you didn’t have a chance in hell.

Oh no. What is he doing now? While trying to focus on holding your breath, the Toymaker had conjured two familiar puppets on the ends of his hands: Punch and Judy. With a final, victorious wink, the Toymaker begins a silent, over-the-top slapstick routine with the puppets. Even without dialogue you recognise the beats of the show; Mr Punch is a mess of a man, overwhelmed by the demands of his wife and baby (the latter brought into being with a tiny, adorable puppet the Toymaker wears on one of his thumbs). His hands move with such finesse that the puppets almost look real.

Such a gaudy routine wouldn’t have been enough to make you laugh by itself, but the Toymaker brings a whole new dimension with his wonderfully expressive face. Each time the long-suffering Judy begins a voiceless tirade of her husband (i.e., throwing little puppet-objects at his face), the Toymaker supplements Punch’s depression with a frown worthy of a theatre mask. When Punch manages to land a hit on his wife or baby (My God, were these shows always so violent?), the Toymaker grins with such deranged glee that you can’t help but find it hilarious.

Oh no. You look at the clock: it’s been a minute, and your chest is really starting to hurt. The Toymaker and his puppets make your cheeks puff out with the effort of not laughing.

He smirks at you as Punch picks up his wife and baby and tosses them into the air, punting them like footballs. It’s so absurd and ridiculous that you can feel the giggle rising up in your chest. You desperately want to open your mouth and suck in oxygen but you can’t, you simply can’t, because if you do you’ll lose the game and he’ll keep you here forever…!

As your remaining seconds tick closer to your inevitable failure, you close your eyes. You want to have one last moment to remember yourself as you are, because you are sure whatever the Toymaker is going to do to you will not be pleasant.

Your chest aches. Your cheeks bulge. Your will starts to unravel.

And then, you have the idea.

It’s a stupid idea, and with barely any seconds left to execute it, you have no guarantee that it will work. But as you open your eyes and look at the Toymaker’s smug ‘I’ve already won!’ expression, you know you have no choice but to follow through with your mad plan.

So, holding on to every last bit of breath you have, you lunge at the Toymaker—

—and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.

Several things happen at once:

The first is the Toymaker exclaiming in surprise, his breath clearly lost, and dropping his puppets, which dissolve into ash as soon as they hit the floor. 

The second is your desire to breathe finally overpowering you as you collapse against the Toymaker, and the two of you tumble to the floor. 

The third is the grandfather clock exploding. Just as you hit the ground the clock bursts apart, firing out wooden shrapnel with a horrifying bang! On reflex you huddle yourself against the nearest form of safety, which in this case happens to be the Toymaker’s chest.

You weren’t expecting him to hold you back.

The two of you stay like that for some time: you and the Toymaker, on the floor together, breathing heavily and wrapped up in each other’s arms. Despite your own adrenaline, you can’t understand the Toymaker’s terror: surely he caused the clock to blow up? He certainly wasn’t in any danger.

But then you hear a sound you couldn’t hear before. It’s the thrumming of the Toymaker’s heart, loud and insistent and desperate to survive. You hear it through the fabric of his waistcoat, and feel it in the pulse of his neck. For just a moment, the Toymaker seems to be just as human as you.

You wonder if the Toymaker’s mortality is contextual.

Eventually, you manage to disentangle yourself from the Toymaker’s limbs. You peek at the smoking remains of the grandfather clock, and are relieved to see that nothing has caught fire: there’s just a scorched, black mark where the clock once existed. The shards of wood which exploded out from the clock have disappeared.

Thankfully, your phone is untouched! You pick it up, pause the recording and watch it back. A smile stretches across your face.

“Oh, Toymaker!” you say, and you are so very pleased that your voice has returned. “You’re going to want to take a look at this.” 

When the Toymaker climbs to his feet, you are immensely amused to see that his perfect curls have been knocked a bit by the explosion. For the first time since you met, the Toymaker is dishevelled and confused. It’s a cute look on you, you think.

“You broke my game,” says the Toymaker incredulously. “How did you do that?”

“No idea,” you grin. “Maybe it was an unexpected outcome. Still within the rules, still a valid way to win, just…unorthodox.”

You show the Toymaker the recording. You watch as his expression turns from bafflement, to despair, to outright blazing anger.

“No!” the Toymaker cries. “You can’t have beat me!”

But the camera never lies. The footage on your phone clearly picks up the Toymaker gasping in shock as soon as you hit him with your hug…whilst you don’t gasp for air until a few seconds later, just before the grandfather clock explodes.

“Seems like I have!” you say happily.

“But I…you…” The Toymaker’s fingers flex in the air meaninglessly, as if looking for a straw to grasp. “But that’s cheating!” 

“No it isn’t,” you say with confidence. “There was nothing in the rules about us not being able to make each other lose our breath. If you making me laugh was a valid strategy, then me hugging you was too. Either we both cheated, or no one did.”

The Toymaker looks like he’s been slapped, and it is a delicious feeling. You almost want to pinch his cheeks. With a pout fixing his lips, the Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes return to normal. Your dress is gone, replaced by the clothes you entered the shop with.

(Is it a little silly to be regretful of that fact…?)

“I still say that shouldn’t count,” says the Toymaker sullenly. “That was an underhanded tactic. I’ll be writing that into the rules next time.”

But you’ve turned away from the Toymaker now—he obviously needs to work through his sore-loser feelings in his own time. You trot over to the doll shelf, pick up the beautiful doll in the powder-blue dress and cradle her in your arms. She truly is a wonderful prize.

When you turn back around, the Toymaker is sitting on the floor with his hands hugging his knees. You feel a pang of sympathy for the man…it seems this really is his whole life.

“But why did you hug me?” the Toymaker asks, baffled. “That’s not a winning strategy. You just surprised me. You were so…”

The Toymaker looks up at you with shining eyes. This time, his eyes really are wet with tears.

“...Warm,” he whispers.

The triumph of your win quickly sours on your tongue. The way the Toymaker is looking at you gives you a powerful feeling…and it’s not one that you like. Even though every part of you is telling you to make a run for the door while you have this post-win window…you don’t.

Instead, you sit down cross-legged on the floor next to the Toymaker, just like you did when in the void. You even bump your shoulder against his.

“I’ve been sad a lot in my life,” you say. “But I’ve never felt as much sadness as I did in your void. And it made me wonder if…you’d ever been held before.”

The Toymaker looks at you with flashing eyes. His bottom lip trembles as if he’s trying to hold back a lifetime of grief. He doesn’t say anything, but those eyes tell you all you need to know. 

“I wouldn’t mind coming around here sometimes,” you say gently.

The Toymaker looks at you like you’ve got two heads. “You would voluntarily subject yourself to my life-or-death games?”

“Maybe not the life-or-death part,” you say hastily. “But I had fun today. Weird, horrible fun. You’re kind of a weird and horrible guy…and I’m pretty weird too.”

To your surprise, the Toymaker actually laughs at that. “You are unique, meine Liebling,” he says, German once more. “To out-ge-smart me, you must be.”

“Well…maybe it’s a good thing we met,” you say. “Maybe you don’t need to keep luring in suspecting people to your shop, Toymaker. Some of us might actually want to stick around and play. And maybe…”

You rest your head against the Toymaker’s shoulder.

“...Maybe I could help keep the cold out for a while.” 

The Toymaker and you sit in silence for some time, listening to the gentle whirs and clicks of the toys going about their business. You keep your new doll tucked between your legs, and your cheek resting against the Toymaker’s shoulder. He’s so warm that you find your eyelids fluttering: you could easily fall asleep right here.

It’s a surprise when you feel the Toymaker’s fingers sliding into your own. You look at him, and see those telling blue eyes alive with fresh excitement.

“It’s a deal,” says the Toymaker, with an enormous, brilliant smile.

You let the Toymaker pull you to your feet. To your amusement, he grants you a deep, formal bow.

“Run along now, meine Schatz…today must have been ge-xhausting for you. But I shall be seeing you again soon, ja?"

Other people would not have caught it, but you know what loneliness sounds like: you hear the edge of desperation at the edge of the Toymaker’s voice. You take a step back and return the bow with a curtsey.

“Ja, genau,” you grin.

The Toymaker’s smile could have outshone the sun.

That night, when you return home, you take all of your dolls out of your closet. You line them up with care on your shelf, making sure to pose them prettily and smooth out the creases in their frocks.

But you keep your new doll in your hand, and clamber into bed with her. Before you turn out the light, you look one last time at her perfect, dimpled face.

Oh, what games will you and the Toymaker play next?

[jelsah27]

imposter syndrome talked ab just some forewarning

In History Class

MC: *walks into class with a small smile on their face*

Deuce: Good morning, MC. You seem happy today.

Ace: Yeah what's got you all smiley?

MC: Well, Kalim and Jamil were at my dorm the other day. Kalim really wanted to know about foods from my world and Jamil tagged along for obvious reasons. At on point Kalim wanted to look at my room and he found my snap-out-of-it post-it notes on the wall.

Deuce: Snap-out-of-it post-it notes?

MC: Oh, yeah they help remind me that a lot of the problems I think I have aren't really as problematic as I think. Like "Every personality is a creation of experiences that make you you." or "My friends like me because I am me". You see a while ago I figured out that I have a bit of Imposter Syndrome.

Ace: A bit of what?

MC: Well, it's pretty much I feel like I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I'm not the gifted child everyone remembers or the smart person everyone seems to think I am. That if I can't hurry up and live up to everyone's expectations that they'll figure out I'm not as great a person they think I am and be disappointed and angry that all I am is an empty shell of who they believed I was and leave. Some times it will also come in the form of believing that my friends only want to be around me out of pity or that if I don't like what they like or want to do the same things as them then they will leave, even if they've reassured me they love me. I think the worst thoughts I ever got from it was when I started to believe that my personality was fake and that I didn't know why I was so different than the kid everyone liked. I started to believe that I had faked my personality from different shows, books, or even people to even have one.

MC: Honestly I didn't even realize it was imposter syndrome till someone else pointed it out to me after telling them this. I genuinely had no clue I was so disgusted with myself till I was talking with them about it and they pointed out that none of what I was saying was true, that everybody knew who I was and loved me as I am. I think I cried when they told me that.

Deuce: Prefect... I had no idea...

MC: It's alright, I've been learning to get better at combating it. Anyway, Kalim asked me about it and I basically told him and Jamil what I just told you. He then asked me what I'm doing to overcome it. So I told him about the main things that have helped. Reminding myself constantly that I am not fake or hiding who I am from people I love and who love me. Whenever I feel negative thoughts try to take over, think about one positive thing that I have done or something someone had said they love about me for every dark thought. If it gets to bad though, go to someone I trust and ask them flat out about those thoughts, it helps a lot. And twice a week I make a post-it or journal about one or two small things. Maybe a compliment someone gave me, or a task I completed. So every day or so since they've-

Jamil: *walks into the room* Prefect, here. I must get to class before Kalim catches something on fire I mean gets into trouble. Have a good day.*hands MC a small note and leaves the classroom*

MC: *smiling contently* It say 'Thank you for helping Kalim study yesterday great sevens know he needed it and your smile is unique'

Deuce: *getting out paper* If it helps you, I'll gladly join in.

Little bit of a rant u can skip I hope you enjoyed the post <3 Y'all I'm sorry I didn't mean to trauma dump but I really like the idea. But the story is true and I did cry (and it was in a restaurant) when my sis told me I was wrong and she knew who I really and she loves me. That our friends won't leave because all humans have opinions and we are allowed to clash. And that my personality isn't fake, that everyone's personality is what they've created themselves and that people add and take away from themselves all the time and work on parts of themselves they don't like to become better. That my brain was just being dark when there was many lights around me, waiting to be recognized. If any of y'all read this its just one side of imposter syndrome, there are a few versions and many levels of severity. I genuinely think you are awesome and perfectly imperfect the way you are!

Anywho thanks for reading!

[healmydesires]

you’re my medicine ꕤ (a.s)

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you’re convinced you don’t like anakin, and that he loves to get under your skin. but one summer, you find out just how wrong you’ve been.

genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni) modern/lifeguards!au

word count: 16,5k+ (oops... bon appétit)

tags/warnings: frenemies/enemies to lovers (it’s one sided but oh well 🫣), miscommunication, assumed unrequited love from both sides, reader described as shorter than anakin, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, an oc as readers best friend, inexperienced/virgin!reader, a bit of thigh riding, unprotected sex, piv sex, loss of virginity, soft!dom anakin, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), kinda pleasure!dom? idk… I just love pleasure doms, multiple orgasms, creampie, a bit of daddy kink, some breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink, lots of pet names.

a/n: hellooo this is my very first anakin fic. this idea came up to me when I couldn’t sleep and I just. had to fantasise about it… and eventually I just. started writing it. anyways anakin is a new special interest and I’m literally obsessed with him. I just love him sm. ALSO! the title is inspired by bisous by aya nakamura! it’s a french song and I just. associate it a lot with him. hehe anyways ,, hope u enjoy <3 🥺

please don't forget to interact or reblog <3 thank u for reading <3 🥰 if u can, let me know if you’ve enjoyed it, it encourages me a lot!

AO3 • masterlist • playlist

Aquasplash, a water park in the south of France, near the French Riviera. Around sixty kilometres from Nice located in a city called Fréjus. 

Every summer, you come down to the south for eight weeks, to work as a lifeguard. The water park held too many children, multiple variations of slides, impressive sized pools and Anakin Skywalker.

Unbelievable. 

He’s always here during summer. Every year for the last three years and you can’t seem to understand why he keeps coming back to this particular place. It’s not like there aren’t any water parks overseas.

You can’t stand him sometimes. You know that hate is a strong word. One you try not to use often. But the frustration you feel whenever Anakin is around you consumes you to the point where you can’t even spare him a look sometimes. 

You don’t necessarily dislike the man, it’s just that he gets on your nerves in such a unique way and you can’t stand it. You truly can’t remember the last time you genuinely enjoyed his company.

He’s so charming, flirty, arrogant and just overall obnoxious. For some reason, he tries to make your life difficult. It can’t be for nothing. He thinks he can just come into your favourite summer job and sweet talk his way up to becoming one of the assistant managers. The job that you so desperately wanted, ripped away from you by the prettiest and most self-assured man you’ve ever met. All in the year when you thought you could become friends.

He ruined it all.

Yet, he’s still trying to be nice to you since day one. Too nice. You can’t seem to understand why someone would try to make you like them when all you did was being rude to them.

Either way, Anakin Skywalker is a fucking menace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It is early in the morning, the heat is already rising, warm and hazy, promising a hot summer day. 

You drive out of the centre of the city, the sun shining, windows down and the radio blasting your favourite pop song at the moment as you hum along to the tune. 

Once you see the “Aquasplash” sign you take the first turn right, moving off the main road, slowly following the small road towards the water park’s entrance. The sound of gravel crumbling underneath the wheels of your car gives you a nostalgic feeling. Bringing you back to when you would come here with your family every summer. 

As you pull your car into the staff parking lot of the water park and turn off the engine, you exhale loudly before closing your eyes briefly. You enjoy the short moment of peace as you listen to your surroundings. All you can hear are the seagulls squawking in the distance and the buzz of insects around you. 

“There’s my favourite princess.”

There goes your peace and quiet.

You swear under your breath, “fucking hell,” as you let your head fall against the top of your steering wheel. You slowly open your eyes as you give him a side glance.

Anakin is leaning against the right side of his car, staring at you with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. 

“Skywalker.” you greet him rather unfriendly, your voice filled with annoyance.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “You don’t seem that happy to see me.”

“Nope.” 

A frown forms on his face, but as quickly as it appeared it vanishes. He composes himself and a grin replaces it. “Ouch! You wound me sweetheart, I thought you’d miss me.” 

“Missing you? Boy please.” You scoff and roll your eyes before you push your car door open, hitting Anakin softly with your door, pushing him out of your way after you take your duffle bag out of the passenger’s seat. 

You don’t spare him another glance as you make your way to the entrance of the park, locking your car with a press of a button. 

“I know you’re lying!” He shouts before you hear him follow you. 

This time you don’t reply. Too annoyed to give him your time of day. Anakin loves to bother you, loves having your attention on him at all times. You’re aware you’re a stubborn person and it never seems to make him stop to try and get you to look at him, to notice him.

You head towards the office near the entrance of the park. As you enter the building you notice that it’s full. You smile as you recognise some of your colleagues from last year and you wave at them.

You hear a familiar voice calling out for you and you can’t help but squeal as you see that it’s Padmé Amidala. You quickly drop your bag as you both envelope each other in a big hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” She cheers as she squeezes you close to her. 

“Not as much as I missed you.” You smile as you pull away, winking at her.

“Impossible.” She tsks playfully. Her eyes move to Anakin who stands behind you and she gives him a friendly smile. “Hi Anakin.”

Anakin greets Padmé, before making his way further in the room. He comes to stand close to Obi Wan who is once again the manager for the summer.

“Alright, now that everyone has arrived, let’s get started with everyone’s assigned tasks and positions.” 

As he starts talking you zone out, still feeling quite tired from your long drive yesterday to the south coast. Padmé smiles knowingly as she sneaks a glance at you. 

Around fifteen minutes pass and he’s still going giving everyone orientation and their assignments, until you hear him call out your name. 

“Yes?” You blink as you make eye contact with him.

“You and Anakin are partners for the summer.”

“What?” You exclaim. You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

You see from your peripheral view Anakin smiling at you cheekily and you can’t help but move your face to his direction, narrowing your eyes at him. He shrugs at your expression and then returns his attention back to his friend.

“What this means for you two,” Obi Wan continues with a smile as you huff out in protest, “is that you will have to share most posts together.” He says as he hands out your timetable. 

“Alright, is this all?” You ask impatiently. 

“Yes—”

You sigh and roll your eyes dramatically before grabbing your bag and your friend’s hand, tugging her along with you, making her chuckle as you walk out the building to go to the changing rooms. Your colleagues shuffle out slowly afterwards. 

“Not a word.” you grumble.

Padmé’s eyes shine mischievously, as she presses her lips into a thin line in mock seriousness and makes a motion to zip her mouth with the hand you’re not holding.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

So far, the first two weeks are uneventful.

Every day whenever the visitors arrive, you are constantly busy. You’ve switched posts here and there but other than that nothing worth mentioning happened so far.

Anakin and you have been sharing the same posts but not that much either so it has been a rather peaceful two weeks for you. 

But this afternoon, you’re partnered with him again to observe the main pool of the water park together. 

“I don’t get it,” your colleague and one of your best friends, Padmé, smirks, eyeing you as she’s sitting at the table in one of the staff's kitchens while you slice strawberries for the both of you. “Anakin isn’t as bad as you make him to be.”

“Padmé…” you groan annoyingly before you continue, “that’s because he didn’t take the job you so desperately wanted for so long.” You’re already tired of this conversation, and it barely started.

Maybe it’s your own fault, for comparing yourself to him or that you resent him for getting that job. You’re quite literally aware of how childish it sounds, but you can’t seem to care. You know how much you deserved that job. 

Your friend rolled her eyes at your words. “You should really let this go, it’s not healthy. Besides… It's been two years—”

You cut her off instantly, continuing your rant. “He can’t just come here and take everything from me. He is already one of the best swimmers and lifeguards out there. He is so fucking ‘pretty’ and smart, he always gets whatever he fucking wants anyways. What else does he want?” 

You tangle your fingers through your hair in frustration as you sigh loudly. 

“Maybe…” she begins hesitantly and your gaze meets hers. “Maybe, he didn’t want to steal this ‘job’ from you. Ever thought that he wanted this job just as much as you?”

You scoff but she continues with a small smile. “And perhaps, my dear friend, you should try and be friendly with him. I meant when I said it isn’t healthy to hold such a grudge for two years. He is only trying to be nice to you.”

“Yeah sure,” you huff as you cross your arms in front of your chest. “He’s too confident around me, trying to get under my skin at all times.”

“Under your skin? I think he just likes you.” Padmé says with a smug smile.

“L-likes me?” You splutter as you feel your cheeks burn hot. 

Your friend shrugs nonchalantly, “it seems obvious to me.” 

Padmé isn’t right, she can’t be. 

“Anakin Skywalker doesn’t like me. Nor do I like him.” You whisper harshly as you sit down across from her with your plate full of strawberries.

“Of course.” She says as she grabs a strawberry from your plate, her voice sounding nothing but sarcastic as she rolls her eyes for the second time since she started this conversation. 

“What?” You level her with a glare. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re in denial, that's what.” She says impatiently.

Before you can even reply back, the man himself enters the room with a wide smile. You can’t help but stare at him as he greets the both of you. He’s wearing a white shirt that stretches across his chest, with the blue logo of the water park centred in the middle and red swimming trunks. His hair looks messy but he looks so beautiful, it’s unfair. The fact that he let his hair grow out makes him even more pretty. You’d be lying if you didn’t find him attractive, he’s extremely handsome but you would never admit that to anyone out loud. During the time that you spent observing him, eyes trailing up and down the tall length of him, you didn’t notice how Anakin did the same to you.

“Ready to get back to work?” He asks rather enthusiastically. 

“Sure, Anakin. I’m still on my break though. Let me finish eating and I’m good to go.”

His face lights up at your words. He doesn’t say anything and just regards you with a small smile as he leans against the nearest wall.

“What?” You feel yourself grow warm under his mirthful stare. Feeling rather embarrassed as he looks at you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugs, the smile not leaving his face. “You never call me by my name.”

You stare up at him, suddenly confused. You think about what he just said, trying to recall a time where you would call him by his first name. But you don’t remember anything. You always call him by his last name or ‘skyguy’. Heat overwhelms your body at the realisation.

“Well, okay. Don’t make me regret it.” You try to say as nonchalant as you can while trying to avoid looking at anyone, instead staring down your plate. 

You don’t have to look at Padmé to know that she’s staring at you, her smirk dripping with amusement. 

“I won’t,” He winks before moving away from the wall. “See you at the main pool, sweetheart.” He says with a wave as he leaves the room completely. 

You feel relieved once he’s gone, exhaling as you finally meet your friend’s gaze as she looks at you knowingly. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs with faux innocence. 

“That look does not say nothing, Padmé.” You look at her pointedly.

The brown haired girl laughs and shakes her head. You narrow your eyes at her as she continues to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” You huff as you cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“Well, it’s funny that you’re so oblivious to each other's feelings. Your own feelings specifically.” 

Hot warmth blooms across your chest at her words, until blood rushes to your ears, but you scoff either way. “What do you mean, feelings? There are no feelings. I don’t like him.”

You say it confidently even if you could hear a tiny distant voice in the back of your head calling you a liar. You push another strawberry in your mouth as she chuckles at your words.

“You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.” She snorts. 

You both fell in silence, mostly because you’re ignoring her. By now the plate of berries is empty and all you can do is stare at it. You sigh dramatically as you pick up your plate, moving to put it in the dishwasher after rinsing it off. 

“Anyways, my break is over. I’ll see you later.” You say as you make your way to the door.

“Don’t forget, we’re going out tonight!” Padmé calls after you.

“How could I forget, you’ve been mentioning it every day at least once this week.” You smirk as she sticks her tongue out at you playfully. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been looking forward to it.” She says as she points a finger at you. 

“Yeah, yeah… anyways, see you after work!”

“Have fun with your loverboy!”

You flip her off and all you can hear are her giggles as you leave the room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The air is thick with humidity, the summer heat enveloping you completely, and smells like chlorine. The sun is beaming down on you as you’re sitting on one of the big red lifeguards chairs. You’ve been observing the pool all afternoon, sometimes blowing your whistle whenever some children would do water bombs too excessively.

Anakin is leaning against your chair. You’re simultaneously looking out after all the swimmers in the pool and occasionally listening to Anakin ramble about anything he feels like sharing with you.

“Sometimes,” you ponder out loud, “I wonder why Obi Wan paired us two together and— hold on, why are you blushing?”

“W-what? I’m not blushing.” Anakin splutters as his face flushes more as he averts his gaze.

A devilish smile spreads across your face. “Sure you are.”

“I am not.” He huffs as he continues to try and avoid looking at you. He looks kind of shy all of a sudden. His face is still flushed, his eyes are bright and his plump lips look so kissable— hold on, why are you thinking about his lips? And why do you want to kiss them? You try to mentally shake the thought out of your head but the damage has already been made. You feel a hot flash of warmth spread over your whole body.

You genuinely hope that he doesn’t notice any of that. 

You raise your brows at him, crossing your arms over your chest. You tilt your head as you stare at him.

“Anakin, do you have anything to do with us being paired?” 

“Of course not,” he says quickly, looking flustered.

“Mmm yeah, sure.” You smirk, entirely entertained by the way his gaze keeps avoiding yours. His silence is enough to make you giggle but you can’t enjoy it that long though.

“Why does it matter?” He says more confidently, finally looking at you directly. “Is something up with you? I’ve noticed that you haven’t insulted me in a while.”

You blink at him as your smile fades as heat flashes your face, because you actually don’t know what to reply to him. Anakin is right, you haven’t been insulting him for at least a week. 

You don’t answer him instantly like you usually do, and he chuckles as he shakes his head at you. 

“What?” You say a bit nervously, but you quickly collect yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you roll your eyes at him. “No, of course not. I’m completely fine. In fact I’m keeping all the insults for later.”

“Uh-huh, sure you are.” He says his lips twisting to hide his amusement, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Yes, I am.” You say with confidence.

He’s just watching you and you feel yourself grow warmer under his stare. Suddenly you feel very hot, feeling overwhelmingly warm. Maybe it's the summer weather, or maybe it’s something else.

As silence falls between you two it gives you a bit of time to think. About how the man is always being nice to you. Teasing you, being playful with you. The way he always tries to catch your attention. The way he loves to banter with you. 

Or how you notice a lot of things about him lately. 

Like how his skin tans so easily, how when he gets a bit too close you notice he has some green speckles in his eyes, how blue and black looks so good on him. Or how his white shirts tend to cling on him so well. Or how no matter which room he’s in, whenever he smiles he lights up the whole room. Or how the whole world seems to stop whenever he looks at you. 

You gasp as you look at him, hopping off your chair, walking closer to the tall man.

“What?” He snorts. 

“I know what you’re doing.” You narrow your eyes up at Anakin as you walk closer to him, poking a finger into his warm solid chest. 

“What am I doing exactly?” He looks down at you with an amused smile on his face, looking entirely too entertained. He’s so fucking charming, it’s infuriating you.

Your skin feels extremely flushed, a bit damp, your hair is sticking to your neck and sweat is beading at your chest, your skin and red bikini clinging to your shirt. 

“Stop being—” You stumble over your breath, as it hitches in your throat, realising that you’re both standing way too close to each other. You are close enough that you can see the outline of his features, the faint slope of his nose, his jawline, or the scar near his right eye. Both of your chests are almost brushing, his warmth radiating off on you. 

“Stop being what? Or rather, doing what?” He says, a smile still on his face. Why is he still smiling?

You try to put some distance again between the both of you, but as you do you almost trip, and his arms move quickly, hands coming to steady you on your waist. 

“Careful sweetheart, don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“What?” A sense of panic envelopes you as you realise that his hands are still on you. Anakin’s hands feel warm and wide as his palms rest on you, over your shirt. His touch feels dizzying and it feels as if you are growing warmer by the second. 

“Angel—”

“No,” You shake your head frantically, as you push his hands off you. “Stop being so nice to me all the time, stop trying to distract me, stop giving me all those pet names. Just stop. I know what you’re trying to do.” He looks at you with wide eyes as you’re going off on a rant, not able to stop. “You’re trying to get to know everything about me, trying to be all nice so I let my guard down so you can just strike and take, just like you did last time.”

He looks down at the space between the both of you, tilting his head to the side as he frowns. 

“Sweetheart, what do you mean last time?” 

“You know exactly what I mean.” You mumble as you look away.

“No I don’t.” Genuine confusion and concern graces his features. “Also, am I truly distracting you?”

“Huh?” Your cheeks flush with warmth at his words as simultaneously you feel your anxiety bubbling up inside you, embarrassment overwhelming you. 

“You said I’m distracting—”

“I didn’t,” you cut him off nervously as the warmth in your face continued to rise, still not sparing him a glance. 

Anakin says your name in such a soft manner, as he tries to get you to look at him. Suddenly you have had enough of this conversation. Thankfully the loudspeakers announce that the park is closing in half an hour, saving you from talking more about the subject.

“I’d love to stay and chat but I have other places to be!” You say hurriedly as you quickly walk away from him. You ignore him as he calls out after you multiple times, determined to get home as quickly as you can so you could start and enjoy your weekend off. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re slowly swirling your straw in your favourite cocktail as you’re staring off in the distance, while you’re sitting on a lounge sofa at the new and fancy rooftop bar Padmé convinced you both to go to. Everything feels a bit hazy, probably because of the alcohol that’s warming up your body or maybe it’s the dimmed colourful lightning and the smoke that hangs a bit in the air. 

Your thoughts keep wandering off to earlier today, about the way Anakin looked so confused and how concerned he was when you had your whole rant in front of him. He genuinely looked like he didn’t know what you were talking about when you insinuated that he hurt you last time. What if he actually didn’t know—

You feel your friend nudge you as your thoughts continue to wander. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Huh?” You blink as you look at her. You were so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear what she was talking to you about. “No, I’m sorry. Could you please repeat it?”

“Alright,” Padmé sighed. “What happened earlier?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble as you avoid her gaze.

“Come on,” Padmé whispers your name, “I know something happened between you and Anakin.”

You exhale loudly, staring at your drink, shrugging. “There’s nothing much to talk about.” 

“Okay, well. If you eventually feel like talking about it, let me know.” She gives you a small smile.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you give her a grateful smile back as you squeeze her hand that’s closest to yours. 

You pull away, leaning against the sofa as you enjoy the last bits of light. The air is still warm, as the sun is setting. You can still hear the soft relaxing music in the background despite the amount of people talking over it. You close your eyes for a moment as you feel a breeze hitting your face, caressing your skin and hair. You desperately needed a night out and you’re thankful for Padmé picking out this location. 

“Man, I truly needed this.” You chuckle after you take a sip of your drink. 

“You mean going out?” Padmé smirks, “I knew you’d love it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You roll your eyes playfully, “you told me so.” 

“Damn right I did.” She smiles cheekily. “You always love going out.”

“Not as much as staying at home though.” You argue as your lips curl into a smirk. 

“True, true.” 

You both talk and properly catch up, finally taking the time to hear each other's stories since the last time you’ve been able to do so was months ago. She laughs as you tell her about all your dating experiences from the past year. Your dating life is quite literally a disaster. You can’t seem to find someone in life that you can truly connect with. No matter what gender. You either end up with another friend or the dates just stay at the first date. You crave a true connection. Someone you can truly be yourself with. Someone that you can talk to about anything and everything and someone that is truly there for you.

Minutes later your eyes stray from hers for a moment as you look across the bar, your smile slowly fading as you recognise Anakin and Obi Wan stepping out of the elevator that led to the rooftop. You feel your body flush with heat as you make eye contact with Anakin. You hate the way your body reacts whenever he’s around. It’s been reacting to him a lot more lately. He looks so incredibly handsome, annoyingly so, like he always does, but the lightning makes him look even more pretty. He smiles and gives you a quick wave before he leans closer to Obi Wan. He murmurs something in his friend’s ear as he gestures to the direction Padmé and you are sitting. 

“What are they doing here?” You question as you continue to stare into their direction. 

Padmé grins sheepishly at you after she looked behind her. 

You narrow your eyes at your friend suspiciously. “You have something to do with this?”

“I may have invited them…” she flushes as she bites her lip.

“Why?” You groan.

You don’t care that you sound whiny, or that your voice sounds a bit panicked, you just don’t feel like spending a whole evening or night with Anakin Skywalker. A moment that was supposed to be relaxing. 

“Because, we both like them. They are our friends.” She exclaims.

You’re not happy, or at least you convince yourself that you aren’t. But you don’t feel like arguing with Padmé right now. You decide at that moment that the both of you deserve to have a fun evening together and if you have to spend it with Anakin too then so be it. 

“How did you let them know where we were?” You raise one of your brows at her.

“I texted them?” She looks at you as if you asked her the most ridiculous question in the world.

“Okay, yeah, stupid question.” You roll your eyes with a laugh.

“You know, you could always ask for Anakin's number. I’m pretty sure he’d give it to you happily. You’re his favourite girl after all.” She smiles deviously.

You huff, shaking your head in the process. “I don’t need—”

“Hey,” Obi Wan smiles as he greets the two of you, “sorry it took us so long.”

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, you truly hope they didn’t hear what Padmé said. You greet them with a small smile and you finally look at Anakin, finding him already looking at you. He greets you with a small “hi” as he smiles before you see his eyes scan your outfit. 

You’ve spent a good hour looking through all the clothes you brought along with you, debating which outfit would be the best for a night out. You wanted to look hot. So in the end you decided on wearing a black dress, one of those corset dresses with a deep plunge, with a thigh slit on the left side of the dress. You also have dark heels on, not too high but not that low either. You normally don’t like wearing heels, preferring your comfortable white sneakers, but Padmé insisted that wearing sneakers under such a pretty dress is a no-go. Plus you have a small black shoulder bag that’s sitting at your feet. As for your makeup, you’re wearing dark nude eyeshadow with smoked eyeliner, and on your lips you have some pinky nude shiny lip gloss. 

You feel your body grow warmer under his gaze, and you can’t help but feel a bit shy and insecure. You don’t understand why, but you kind of crave his approval.

You’re taking in his outfit. He is wearing a white button-up shirt, his chest a bit more exposed and you have to force yourself not to look too long. You don’t want him to notice that you’re looking at his chest. He’s also wearing some nice blue jeans, the kind that just look good on anyone.

Padmé calls out your name, and as you face her she is already smirking at you. You can’t help but roll your eyes at her.

Anakin clears his throat, “we’re getting drinks, do you guys need anything?” 

“No, we’re good. Thanks for asking.” Padmé smiles.

As both men leave to go to the bar, she turns to you once again. 

“What was that?” Padmé smirks with amusement. 

“What do you mean?” You mumble as you avert your eyes to your lap.

“Don’t act like you weren't staring at each other.” She says with a laugh. 

You sigh heavily, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh come on now.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

Before you can say anything back to your friend, you hear your name being called. Your eyes widen as you recognise that voice from anywhere. You quickly whip in your seat as you see one of your best friends standing there, Javier. 

“No way?” You gasp before quickly making your way over to your friend to hug him. “Is this real?” 

He chuckles as he envelopes you in a big hug. “I am very real, yes.” 

Javier is one of your closest friends besides Padmé that you’ve made since working at Aquasplash. He is a Puerto Rican exchange student that came to France to study Engineering. He worked with you for two summers straight until he moved back. You missed him terribly and hadn’t seen him for at least two and a half years. He’s always been a person that could make you feel important. He had a sense of humour that actually made you laugh. He’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. A lot of people think you guys have feelings for each other but all the love you have for the man is purely platonic. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” you chuckle as you pull back to look up at him.

“I missed you too, buddy.” He smiles warmly.

“How long are you staying?” You ask him hoping he isn’t here for a couple of days.

“I’m here on vacation for at least two months, so we can hang out as much as you’d like.” 

“Ah finally, I almost thought you wouldn’t show up tonight.” Padmé says with a teasing look as she crosses her arms, still in her seat.

“You knew?” You gasp.

“Surprise?” She smiles sheepishly. The two of you laugh at her words. 

“All these secrets.” You tsk playfully as you shake your head at Padmé. 

A moment later Obi Wan and Anakin both return with drinks. The bearded man smiles brightly as he recognises your best friend.

“Oh, hi Javier,” Obi Wan says, “it’s been a long time. How have you been?”

As both Javier and Obi Wan are catching up, your eyes almost automatically drift to Anakin. His eyes are almost narrowing at how close you and Javier are standing. You look at him quizzically before he looks away and sits down across from your original seat. 

You wonder why he was looking at the both of you like that. He looked almost jealous? You’re certain that couldn’t be the case, because you’re sure he doesn’t genuinely like you or feel about you in a romantic way. Besides, it’s not like you care. You don’t have much time to think about it, because Padmé gestures to you to come back to your seat, patting the space next to hers.

Once you are back in your seat your brown haired friend leans closer to you. “Javier looks so good.” Padmé whispers, loud enough for you to hear.

You snort, soon turning into a chuckle. 

“Yeah?” You ask with an amused smile. 

“Yeah,” she says as she bites her lip, hiding her shy smile. 

“Oh, do you have a crush?” Your smile turns more wicked.

“Shut up.” She groans as she slaps your arm. 

“Oh my god, you do.” You gasp.

“Quiet down,” She whispers as she looks around her, making sure that no one else hears them.

You giggle at her antics. “It’s okay, I think he has a crush on you too.”

“Really? You think so?” She asks with hopeful eyes.

Your smile turns soft as you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. He tends to always look like a lovesick puppy around you.”

“You’re lying.” She pouts as she blushes furiously.

“Of course not.” You say as you look at her seriously. 

“Hmh,” she looks at you in disbelief. As if you’re still not being truthful with her.

“Don’t tell him I told you this but,” you whisper as you look around you before continuing, “he talked about you a lot whenever we would hang out.” 

You wouldn’t expose your friend like that if it wasn’t for a greater cause. You’re tired of the fact that two of your closest friends are pining after each other. Especially since now you know that Padmé has feelings for Javier too. 

“No way.” Her eyes go wide at the information. 

“Yes way.” You nod with a smile.

“Okay,” she bites her lip as the blush on her cheeks turns darker. “You think I should make a move?”

“Definitely, I think you should.”

A couple of moments later, Javier comes to sit next to Padmé. “What are you two talking about?”

You lean closer to the side as you make eye contact with your other friend. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.” You say quickly with the most saccharine smile ever. 

“Rude,” he pouts dramatically. “Is this how you treat your best friend who you haven’t seen in over two years?” 

You stick your tongue at him playfully in response. 

After a few drinks and the night turning darker, as the stars in the sky become more visible, the air is still quite warm, you start to feel extremely at ease. Conversations flowed easily with all of you and it was truly a good feeling to be talking to everyone. Even Anakin. Especially him. 

You’ve all been talking for almost two hours. And in those two hours, you’ve learned a lot about Anakin. Just like Javier, he’s studying engineering. The only difference is he's still studying abroad. He lives in Amsterdam apparently, which is your dream city to one day move into. He would laugh in such a sweet way as your eyes would widen at the information or your interest in the city. Would answer all your questions about one of your favourite cities in the world. 

Or how you learned how much he loves to read during his free time. Or his favourite music, specifically how he is a huge fan of Coldplay. He loves all kinds of music. He said he can’t stick to one music genre. There’s so much more that you’ve learned about him.

The more you know about him, the less you dislike him. The less he irritates you. Maybe after all this time, the irritation was something else entirely, buried under the false pretence of dislike. Most likely it was just pure jealousy. You used to genuinely like him. He always makes you feel things in such a furious way. He makes you think about him constantly. No, you know that deep down it wasn’t just jealousy, it was more than that. 

You know something has changed for you. What exactly, you don’t want to face yet. For now, you blame the atmosphere. Something in the air is making things shift around, feel different.

It’s only after you’ve emptied your second or third cocktail, you honestly have no idea, that Javier announces that all of you should do a game of truth or dare.

It’s as if the universe wants to play with you.

“Oh my god, no.” You groan.

“What’s up princess?” Anakin says with a teasing  smile. “You got anything to hide?” 

“W-what? No, of course not.” You stutter as you feel your body burn hot at his words.

“He does have a point.” Javier says as he tries to stifle a laugh.

“You should be on my side!” You exclaim dramatically. 

Padmé snorts next to you.

You turn to look at Padmé, narrowing your eyes at her. “What about you?”

“I mean…” she shrugs as she tries to fight off the smirk on her face.

“Great.” You turn to look across from you, ignoring the way Anakin is smiling mischievously as he looks at you. “I guess I don’t have to ask for your thoughts on this?” You ask Obi Wan.

The man shrugs and you huff.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”

You groan at his words.

“Come on, don’t be so dramatic.” Javier laughs. You look at him in a fake menacing way which makes your friend laugh even more. “Alright, alright. I will spare you, for now.” He gives you a look that says nothing but danger.

“How generous of you.” You huff, rolling your eyes at him. 

“You’re first,” your best friend says as he looks at you. “You get to choose whoever you want.”

“Nice,” you say with a devilish grin. You’re thankful that you have some time to mentally prepare yourself for once it’s your turn. Because you are certain that if it’s Padmé’s or Javier’s turn that you’re doomed. 

“Uh-oh,” Padmé says with apprehension. 

“Javier,” you start, the man groaning loudly at the mention of his name. “Ok, hold on, why am I not allowed to be dramatic but you are?”

“I’m not being dramatic.” He scoffs, as if you had the audacity to accuse him of such a thing.

“Anyways,” you roll your eyes. “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” he picks unhesitatingly.

You snicker at his choice. You pretend to think for a second before you clear your throat, “I dare you to kiss the hottest person in our group.”

Javier’s eyebrows rise together at your bold request. While Padmé blushes bright red next to you. Obi Wan is smirking as he looks at your two best friends. Anakin on the other hand, is frowning. You have no idea why though.

“Is that the dare?” He hesitates.

“Yep,” you smile brightly. 

“You sure?” He questions again.

You sigh heavily. “Javier, you’re the one that wanted to play this game.” 

He gulps before he looks down at the brown haired girl who sits in between the two of you. He moves closer to Padmé, cupping her cheek. “Is this okay?” Javier checks in with her. 

Padmé nods her head shyly but without any hesitation. He says something under his breath that you can’t seem to catch before his lips connect with hers in a gentle kiss. Her arms move instantly, as she wraps them around his neck. 

You whistle as the kiss between them gets a bit more deeper. Eventually they pull away as they gasp for air. Their foreheads are touching as they look at each other with small satisfied smiles. 

“Finally.” You clap your hands as you smile with so much happiness, because your friends finally made a move on each other. You might’ve pushed them into the right direction, but you’re happy that they are showing their affection for each other now.

“You’re dangerous, girl.” Padmé laughs as she turns her head to look at you. But she looks truly thankful for what you did.

“Just doing God’s work.” You say with feigned innocence as you shrug. 

“Before we continue, who wants another drink?” Obi Wan asks the rest of you as he stands up from his seat.

“Me!” You say a bit too quickly and loudly as you stand up from your seat, adjusting your dress as it rides up.

Obi Wan chuckles. He asks the rest of the group what they want as you write down everything down on your notes app so you don’t forget. 

Once you have the orders down, you both make your way to the bar. You feel a pair of eyes on you as you walk away. A chill goes down your spine as you have a feeling who is looking at you. In fact you know you don’t have to turn your head to know that it’s most likely Anakin.

As you reach the bar, you lean over it and try to get one of the bartender's attention. It’s a bit busy, three other people are trying to order at the same time. One of them gives you a nod of acknowledgement, before he comes down to where you two are. Once he takes your order and you’ve paid for it, and leaves, Obi Wan clears his throat.

You raise your head, to look at him expectantly. “Hmm?”

“You know, I’m aware of how frustrated you are that Anakin got the assistant manager position and that you didn’t.” He says carefully. “They picked him because they felt like he was the most qualified.”

You feel slight irritation but mostly embarrassment bubbling up inside you at his words. As you’re about to open your mouth he continues.

“But I feel as if I am inclined to tell you this though.” He starts, “Anakin had a lot of other proposals from other workplaces for summer, other than Aquasplash. A lot of better ones actually. But still, he decided to take on this one.” 

Your mouth drops slightly at the new information. Why would he want to come back every year if he had better places to work at. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone knows that Anakin is insanely smart and talented. Plus, why would he travel so far just to work at a place every summer with a person like you. Someone that’s been rude to him most of the time. 

“Why?” You frown.

“Why do you think so?” He asks with a small smile. 

You laugh, still puzzled as you shake your head “I don’t know?”

“Sure,” he says as he gives you a look.

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed as you think about all the moments where Anakin’s always been nice to you, even when you’re nothing but an asshole to him. The way he always tries to catch your attention. Trying to make you laugh. Or the way he loves to spend time with you even if you’re being mean to him. How playful he is. How he loves to tease you or how he seems to only have eyes for you lately. For years actually. Or when his smile would either brighten or soften whenever you enter the room or space he’s in. Or the longing looks he would give you sometimes. 

No. You must be imagining things. 

Your eyes widen as you look at Obi Wan again. You search for a reaction that tells you that you’re wrong. But he just smiles at you knowingly.

You don’t know how or why your feelings for Anakin seem to have shifted so much, all you know is that any trace of hatred you had towards him has disappeared, wiped away to make room for something else. Deep down, you know that this was all just a facade. You’re never truly angry with him. You never disliked him. It was all an act to protect how you always truly cared for or liked him. The feelings you so desperately tried to push away, a feeling that could only be described by a four lettered word. A feeling that might have been around for a long while.

And you’re sure you ruined everything, because you’re such an asshole. 

Suddenly you feel a tightness in your chest. Your breath is turning shallow and ragged and you hear your ears start ringing. It feels as if the sky could be falling down on you any second.

Concern flashes through Obi Wan’s face as he notices a shift in your behaviour.

“Are you okay?”

“I—” you try to speak. “I-I need to go. I’m sorry.” You say hurriedly before you walk away as fast as you can, in need for a moment to be alone.

“Hey, wait,” he calls your name out.

You don’t know why you always feel like running away whenever you’re confronted with something big like your feelings but you know you can’t look or speak to anyone at the moment.

You desperately need to be alone even if it is just for a little while. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You don’t know how, but somehow, you ended up at the beach. The moment you leave the building your phone has been vibrating non stop, not reducing your anxiety at all. So once you sit down on the sand you put your phone on silent after sending one message to Padmé that you’re safe, ignoring all the other texts and missed calls. 

You didn’t stray that far from the bar, which isn’t that far from the coast, only a couple of hundred metres.

Your mind starts to wander back to Anakin, the man that you so desperately tried to dislike for years. Which was all a facade for how you truly feel.

You think about how the fact that the one person that you’ve ever fallen in love with deserves better than someone like you that has been mean to him for years all because of something so stupid. 

You wish you could go back in time, so you never held a grudge in the first place. So you could actually allow yourself to enjoy being around him, to think of him. 

You groan as you feel tears well in your eyes again as the thoughts consume you almost completely. 

“Things will be okay,” you whisper to yourself as you try to regulate your breathing while also mentally calming yourself down. 

You decide to focus on the sea.

Looking at the sea somehow never fails to calm you down, the sound of the body of water grounds you. As you watch the waves crash every time they hit the shore, you feel your anxiety gradually dying down.

You dig your bare feet in the sand, your heels long forgotten as they sit next to you. At the moment you don’t really care that you'll be covered in sand by the time you leave. The beach, specifically this one, brings you so much nostalgia. 

Brings you back to when you were a child.

You briefly close your eyes as you inhale the smell of the sea, exhaling a couple of moments later, releasing a bit of anxiety at the motion. You smile as you feel your body gradually relaxing as more tension dissipates, finally feeling a bit more at peace.

A couple of moments later after you feel your anxiety die down, you feel someone’s presence as they come to sit next to you. 

Unhurriedly you open your eyes again before turning your head slowly. Your eyes widen as you acknowledge who is sitting next to you. As your eyes meet Anakin’s you notice that he is already staring down at you. He’s looking at you with so much concern and an emotion that looks so tender. There’s a flicker of yearning flitting through his eyes as he continues to regard you.

Your bottom lip starts wobbling as you squeeze your eyes shut as you desperately try not to cry. 

“I’m so sorry.” You finally break the silence as tears well in your eyes again as you look at him.

“Hey, shhh sweetheart, there’s no need to apologise.” He whispers as one of his hands comes to squeeze your shoulder. His touch sparks a warmth in your body, just like he did earlier that day.

“Yes there is.” You whisper as you look away, your tears falling freely now. 

“Look at me angel,” he says softly. 

He is so caring and gentle with you, you feel awful, you don’t deserve that after being so horrible with him.

“No, I’m serious,” you say as you try to wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry for being mean to you.”

You’re crying more now, the tears streaming down your cheeks constantly, your make up leaving some tracks because of it. 

“Sweet girl,” He says as his hands come to cup your face, holding you so tenderly, as his thumbs swipe at the tears that fall from your eyes. Your sad eyes look at him as he tries to comfort you. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. All because of something as stupid as a job position.” You whisper as you continue to cry.

“Princess, are you upset because of that?” 

“Yeah, it’s so stupid.” You nod, as you keep sobbing. “I feel so stupid. I’ve never really disliked you, it was all just bullshit. A fucking facade. And for so long I believed I didn’t like you. It’s so fucking stupid.”

“Shhh, I’m telling you right now, It’s okay, you’re not stupid. I know you feel that way right now but you’re not stupid at all. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I am not upset or angry with you, I don’t think I could.” He says as he quickly moves to wrap his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. “I’ve got you, love.”

Every time your body shakes, he holds you tighter. Eventually pulling you into his lap, as you cling to him, your hands holding onto his shirt as if you are afraid that he’d disappear. His face is buried in your hair, yours against his chest as he holds you close.

One of his hands moves to caress your head softly, as the other holds your body close to him. As his fingers continue to caress your head you find yourself being comforted by it, your sobs eventually dying down as you feel yourself relax and calm down while hugging him. 

His embrace soothes you. Anakin is truly such a  comforting person, you could hold him forever.

You slowly pull away from his chest after you’ve completely calmed down, enough to look up at him. As you stare into his eyes, you feel yourself get lost in them. He is truly, so beautiful. 

Before you realise what you’re doing, you raise one of your hands to his cheek. He closes his eyes momentarily at your touch, relishing it. Once he opens his eyes again, he watches you intently, his cheeks flushing red. You feel his heart racing while your other hand rests on his chest still. 

“Anakin,” you whisper, looking shyly up at him.

He smiles at that. “I will never get tired of you saying my name.”

“Well, I haven't really said it much.” You bite your lip as you try to keep yourself from smiling. Of course, it’s not successful.

“True, but still.” He chuckles, “I will always enjoy you saying it.”

“Hm,” you hum as your eyes shift to his lips every few seconds, “I have something to confess.”

You need to confess your feelings to him. You’ve been hiding them for years, even from yourself, now it was enough. You need him to know, even if he doesn’t feel the same way, even if you misunderstood the whole thing. He deserves the truth.

“Go ahead,” he says as his eyes bore into yours, the intensity making you unable to look away. You’re both breathing in each other's air at the moment. You feel as if you’re being pulled by a magnet, your face slowly moving closer to his.

You feel your body get overwhelmed with warmth, as you mentally prepare yourself to tell him how you feel.

“I’m in love with you,” you say nervously, your confession barely above a whisper. Time stands still in that moment, your faces only a few inches apart, his arms still holding you tight against him, one of your hands resting on his cheek and the other still on his heart. “I think I always have.”

His breath hitches at your words, leaving him momentarily speechless. He looks as if he’s processing the words. Anakin leans in then, slowly, watching for you to pull back or show any other sign of not wanting him close. 

He leans in until his forehead touches yours, and you hold in a sigh at the thought of him being so close to you, the heat of his skin radiating off of him, his scent intoxicating you and filling your senses. 

The tip of his nose nuzzles yours, his warm breath kissing your lips, less than a few centimetres away now, and you move your thumb on his cheek, stroking his skin.

“I love you baby,” he whispers, making you still your movement on his cheek as you look at him with wide eyes. Heat spreads throughout your body and your heart flutters at his words, your cheeks feeling hot. “You have no idea how much I do.” 

“I love you too, Ani.” You say shyly. The moment his nickname leaves your lips, his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you with so much passion, pouring all his affection into the kiss as he holds you tightly. The kiss reflects how much he cares and loves you. 

You gasp into his mouth, feeling him as he moves his lips with yours and pulls your body somehow impossibly closer to his, as if he’s not satisfied enough, needing you as close as you physically can. He groans into you, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and you open your mouth for him when you feel his tongue tracing your lower lip and licking into your mouth.

He moves one of his hands to come to cup your cheek as the other keeps you close, pressing you against him. He tilts his head as you moan into the kiss, deepening it.

He feels and tastes amazing, his touches feel heavenly, just perfect. You know that you will get addicted to him quickly. 

Nevermind, you already are.

He moans into the kiss, completely losing himself to the feeling, his warm tongue swirls in your mouth as his soft lips still move with yours. He is better than you ever imagined, his big hands gentle yet firm, his kisses overwhelming you. 

You feel the temperature rising between you two. Eventually you have to pull away as you gasp for air. Your forehead rests against his as you both breathe in some fresh air. 

His lips then move to your jaw, travelling all over as he presses soft kisses.  “Do you want to go back?” He whispers as he nuzzles his head against your neck. 

“No, I’d rather stay here all night with you.” You giggle as he then resumes to pepper kisses on your skin. As his kisses become more intimate, moving from your jaw to your neck, your giggles soon turn into little whimpers and moans. 

“Good,” he whispers, his voice sounding much deeper than earlier, before his mouth moves up, his lips trailing towards yours to envelop them in another kiss. 

Reuniting your mouths, Anakin kisses you deeply, his hands busying themselves with tracing your body above your clothes. You can feel one of them slowly going down beneath your arms, softly grasping at your hips and down your legs, on the way back up finding themselves beneath the dress you are wearing.

You move your hips against him instinctively, without a thought, grinding down on him, which makes him pull away with a groan. 

He moves back just enough to press his forehead to yours again. The two of you breathe in each other’s exhales, lips still almost touching as he finally speaks.

“Baby girl, you’ll be the death of me.” He rasps.

You feel your body flush with warmth at his words. Heat pools in your lower body. You bite your lip before giggling, you start peppering his cheeks, jaw and neck with kisses as you grind your hips against him again. 

His hands come to hold your hips, halting your movements. You whine as he holds you back, pouting up at him.

“Oh princess, don’t be like that.” He looks at you pointedly.

“But—”

“I’d love to continue whatever is happening right now, but not here.” He whispers the last part. 

You bite your lip as you try to hide your smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. Your hands come to tug at the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to you. “Then take me home big boy.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You both stumble into your apartment once you unlock the door after the fourth attempt. It’s hard to unlock anything when someone as hot as Anakin, or an amazing kisser like him, keeps distracting you with kisses. 

You giggle against his lips as you finally kick your heels off. Your feet are eternally grateful once you’re out of them. You sigh with relief as you feel your body relax instantly. 

“Man, I hate sand.” He laughs as he also kicks off his own shoes. 

You chuckle at his words, “Of course you do.”

When Anakin moves his body to meet you again he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. You borrow your head against his chest, nuzzling against his shirt. You’re certain that soon you’ll get addicted to his affection, as if you want him to drown you in it.

“I love you so much,” you whisper against him.

Anakin, pulls away just enough to look down on you. One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, his touch so gentle.

“Will you say it again, sweetheart?” He pleads as he looks at you with adoration. “I just need to hear it again, please.”

You smile warmly up at him, before you stand slightly on the tip of your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, Anakin.”

Anakin traces your face with his fingertips. Pushing the loose strands of your hair out of your face, he leans down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. Pulling back just as fast as he kissed you, “I love you too.”

He laughs as you chase his lips instantly. 

“You’re laughing at me?” You gasp, feigning shock. 

“No, sweetheart.” You pout up at him as he continues to chuckle.

“Yes you are.” You pull away from his touch with a dramatic huff.

“Come on baby, you know I wouldn’t.” 

“Oh do I?” You say as you pretend to think about it for a second. 

He laughs again, as his arms come to wrap your body close to his once again. You feel yourself melt in his embrace, feeling safe and at home.

As much as you love being hugged, you crave more. 

“Ani?” you whisper. He pulls away just slightly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He says as he grasps your hands and kisses your knuckles, heat enveloping you instantly. You feel your body get all warm and mushy at the affection.

“I… want you.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He halts his movements at your words, his eyes searching yours. “You want me?” He smiles softly down at you. 

“Please,” you beg as you lean up to trace your lips with his, “I want and need you. I’ve always wanted you.” You press your lips against the corner of his mouth and you wrap your arms around his neck. You look deeply into his eyes, as you continue. “It’s always been you,  Ani. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. My heart has always belonged to you.”

The moment the words leave your lips, his eyes are glazed over, clouded with lust as he no longer holds himself back. His lips envelop yours in a loving but lustful kiss.

His mouth moves, slow and oh so passionate. Anakin kisses you like he has all the time in the world. You love the feel of his lips on yours, you could kiss Anakin all day. So soft and yet so full of passion. He tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better and you unconsciously perk up on your toes to reach more of him.

You part your lips slightly to catch your breath, inhaling slowly as you taste him and only him. His tongue sweeps across your lips making you whimper. His wet muscle wraps itself against yours a moment later, hot and wet and steady as he tastes your mouth and kisses you deeply.

More warmth pools between your thighs as you continue to kiss each other while your hands wander all over each other. You’re quite certain that your lacy underwear is ruined by now.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands try to find purchase on his arms. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet as both of his hands travel from your waist to your ass, squeezing it in his hands and pushing your body closer to him. 

“I’ve loved you for so long.” He whispers against your lips, his hands moving up to hold you. “Sweetheart, you’re my everything.”

You feel drowsy and hot all over, your mind all over the place, your heart beating insanely fast. You’re breathless and Anakin laughs softly as he takes in your state. You need this man so bad.

His mouth trails down your neck, pressing wet open mouthed kisses all over your skin, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Ani,” you whine as you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

“I got you, kitten.” He whispers in your ear. You whimper at the pet name while he moves one of his  legs, sliding between your legs. You mewl as he presses his jeans-covered thigh against your covered heat which has you clinging onto him.

“P-please, I—” you stutter.

His hands move to your hips, guiding your body to move against him. The friction against your pussy has you moaning and you start to rub yourself against it.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groans as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric.

Anakin lifts his head and your eyes catch his, his lips finding yours in a rough kiss, not wasting any time as he slips his tongue past your lips. Your body is trembling as he devours your mouth and continues to guide your movements. The man of your dreams is wrapped around you completely, a hand tracing your back, the other holding your hips.

“Pleaaase, need more.” You whine against his mouth, “I need you.”

Suddenly, he lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around him instinctively. The passionate kisses don’t stop as he carries you and looks for your bedroom. Once he reaches your bed he places you gently down the sheets.

The bed dips before he hovers over you. He looks at you intensely as his hands move to your thighs, spreading them so he can fit between them. You whimper against his lips as his fingertips trace the skin of your thighs.

“Anakin, wait.” You say nervously. 

He stops his movements instantly, as he looks at you with concern. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

“Nothings wrong Ani,” you nibble at your bottom lip as you look at him. “I just, I’ve never done this before. Being intimate, I mean. I want you, I do, I just wanted to let you know.”

“Sweet girl,” he whispers as he looks at you tenderly, with so much love. “Baby, that’s okay. Don’t you worry about that. I will take good care of you.” 

A small smile forms on your lips at his words, and you nod. Anakin leans down, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your body relaxes completely at the action. His lips move, all over your face, placing soft kisses on every piece of skin. 

“Ani,” you giggle before chasing his lips. As your lips connect with his again, your arms wrap around his neck, your hands tangled in his hair. His lips are so soft and swollen. You’ve kissed each other so much tonight that you almost can’t feel your lips anymore. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and as his mouth moves, delicate and slow, you can’t help but sigh into the kiss.

All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.

Lust coursing through your bloodstream, you detach your lips from his, moving to pepper kisses along the sharp outline of his jaw, your lips tracing the edge. Instantly, Anakin’s hands drop to your thighs again, his hands tracing the skin then moves higher underneath your dress, towards your ass before pulling you flush against him. You writhe underneath him, your lower abdomen squirming against the outline of his growing bulge.

Your mouth parts, as you keep grinding against him, as breathy moans leave your lips. 

Anakin sits up, quickly removing his shirt, discarding it somewhere in your room. Then moves back closer. He dips his head down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his soft lips tenderly roaming over the skin. 

“A-Ani,” you stutteringly whimper, your eyes rolling back when he playfully nips your skin. He presses open mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot just below your ear before sucking harshly. Responsively, you mewl. More wetness pools at your core, growing more wet as he takes care of you.

You sigh under him, “I want you,” you mumble quietly.

Anakin runs his nose down the column of your throat before tracing the shape of your collarbone. When he reaches the crook of your neck again, he bites down softly, making you whimper out his name. Lazily, he flicks out his tongue, the wet muscle gliding soothingly over your stinging flesh. He pulls away just a bit as he mutters “I want you too, baby girl.”

“Then do it, take me.” You groan almost impatiently.

Cupping his chin, you pull him in for another kiss, desperately needing to feel his lips against yours once again. He dips his head down almost automatically, as he chases your own, he slides his tongue inside your mouth and you react instantly, gliding yours against his.

Feverishly, your hands begin roaming over each other, hot lust clouding your minds as your kiss grows fervent with desire. You move your hips desperately as you moan against his lips, hoping that he will get the hint. 

“So needy,” he groans against your mouth.

Anakin’s large palms push under the hem of your dress and over your bare thigh under he reaches the junction between your thighs. Unhesitatingly, he presses his hand to your covered folds, and the sudden touch has you breaking your kiss with a strangled cry.

Soft whines spill from your lips, you grind into his hand unconsciously, your walls clenching as you feel him softly stroke your folds over the fabric. The wetness between your thighs is uncomfortable. As he rubs your throbbing clit, you feel your hips stutter at the action. He groans as he feels more wetness at your entrance.

“Such a wet pussy, is this all for me angel?”

You nod frantically, but Anakin doesn’t seem satisfied enough.

“Come on, be a good girl and use your words.” He taunts with a smirk.

“Yes, all yours.” You manage to whimper, your voice sounding strangled and pathetic, as he applies pressure on your clit. “Only yours.”

“That’s my good girl,” he says with a grin. His fingertips find the hem of your dress and you sit up slightly. You raise your arms quickly to help him get rid of your dress.

You feel your body tremble in anticipation, as his eyes roam all over your half naked body, his eyes not being able to stick to one place. Growing wetter under his heavy stare, your inner walls clench around nothing. You feel your heart picking up as his hands reach for your hips, holding them and pressing your body closer to his once again.

“So beautiful.” He whispers as his hands trace your skin.

His lips then crash against yours as you gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing, and take it upon yourself to guide his hand back down to your pussy, this time underneath your panties. His mouth leaves yours to unleash a heavy groan into your neck at the first slip of his fingers between your wet lips.

“You’re so fucking wet, kitten.” Anakin groans as he drops his head to your shoulder, as he runs his soft lips over your flesh, peppering kisses onto your skin. 

His lips trail slowly down to your neck, all the way to your chest. Anakin breathes in through his nose, a flash of heat warms you up at his words and you shiver when he exhales warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

That’s all he says before he wraps his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucks and licks passionately, then he pushes one of his fingers inside your pussy. 

The slight stretch causes your walls to contract, and as he pushes further into you, your cunt practically swallows the length. Feeling you grip his finger, he detaches his lips from your breast.

“Fuck— such a tight pussy,” he hisses. “I’ve dreamt of what your pussy would feel like, but I never thought it’d be this good,”

Your soft noises of ecstasy become louder as the pleasure overwhelms you. His tongue starts licking again, long licks with the flat of his tongue over your hard nipple as his other hand keeps pumping his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace. His tongue swirls around your nipple, tracing its outline over and over again, while he simultaneously suckles at it.

You whine as your core starts clenching around his finger, begging for more. Instinctively you begin moving your hips, grinding against his hand, as he groans against your skin. Anakin’s lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as he continues to fuck you with his finger. You are panting heavily, barely able to think straight as he slowly slips another finger inside you. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

“Ah fuck, daddy.” You whimper in a daze, not realising what spilled from your lips.

He groans and moves his face back up, to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.

“Good kitty, doing so well for daddy.” He pants against your lips.

Your breath hitches at his words, bucking your hips up towards his hand in response, silently begging for more. Of course he notices and slips a third finger in, moving them slowly at first as your tight pussy tries to adjust to the addition. 

Little whimpers leave your lips as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. You feel so full, you can’t help but imagine him fucking you with his cock, knowing that he’s probably massive. His pace eventually speeds up as you move your hips along with his movements. His lips move back to kiss you, as you whine against his mouth. Your hands clutch his shoulders as you move along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him curl them and spread them.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?” Anakin moans at the moment he connects his thumb with your little pulsing clit. “My love, do you love it when I play with your little pussy?” He rubs your bundle of nerves at the same pace as he fucks your tight walls. You buck your hips, moaning as you nod at his words. “Use your words, kitten.” He tuts.

You writhe against the sheets as you mewl. “Fuck! Yes, please, please, Ani. It feels so good.”

Anakin leans his head back down, trapping your lips in yet another heated kiss. Instinctively, you feel your legs spread even more open for him as you feel yourself get close to your first orgasm of the night. His tongue slips easily into your mouth after another gasp falls from your lips. You can’t help but moan, whine and whimper as he continues to pleasure you. Your hands wander to the back of his head pulling at his hair softly making him moan into your mouth.

“F-fuck, I need you so bad.” He groans as his thumb applies more pressure on your little nub. He curls his fingers forward with every penetration until your thighs shake.

His eyes stare into yours, lust and adoration written all over them. Once he fastens his motions inside you again, you moan and squeeze your eyes shut. A burning intense feeling, a tight coil in your lower abdomen makes you arch your back beneath him.

“Come for me, my baby.”

You open your eyes slowly, locking eyes with him. His intense gaze is what it takes for you to come undone. The hot feeling spreads all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving at their own accord against Anakin’s hand as you gasp loudly.

“Doing so well for me princess,” he says proudly, smiling as his fingers slow as you come down from your high. 

As you come back to your senses, you feel his fingers slip away from your heat. You feel your pussy clench around nothing every now and there, your wetness dripping down the sheets, which makes you whimper helplessly.

Anakin climbs off the bed, as he makes quick work to remove all of his clothing. You are still in a daze, closing your eyes for a moment.

Once he removes the rest of his clothes, you feel him move back up to you. He leans down, roving his lips down to your neck, licking and sucking, as his hands cup your sensitive breasts, massing them in his hands. You whimper, it’s too much, everything is too much. You feel so hot as Anakin litters soft kisses down your shoulders to your chest. Your hands find his head once again, running your fingers through his hair as he breathes onto one of your nipples.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says softly against your skin.

Anakin’s lips move slowly down your body, kissing every little place he can find on your skin while he pushes your body back against the bed. His lips travel all the way down to your hips making you whine and beg silently for more.

A mischievous smile plays on Anakin’s lips as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “You smell so good, I am sure you taste just as good, if not better.” He groans before taking your underwear between his teeth, while pulling it off your legs slowly. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him, truly speechless someone could make this look so hot. Anakin keeps looking at you as he slides down your body, pulling it off you when it reaches your ankles.

Once he pushes your legs wide for him, you whimper as the air hits your wet slit. Anakin smiles as he kisses all the way up to your leg, taking his sweet time to give your body the attention you need. He presses soft kisses from your ankles up to your knees, his hands move along with his mouth, caressing the insides of your thighs as he gradually moves up your legs.

His lips linger on your thighs, licking and sucking some kisses on your soft skin, Anakin’s lips are so close to where you need him the most yet he feels so far away.

“P-please Ani, baby, I need you…” you practically beg, so desperate for him to finally give you what you desperately want.

“I love it when you beg for me kitten,” he whispers against the flesh of your thigh before his lips move higher making your breath hitch. His fingers move to spread your outer lips for him, Anakin smirks as he slides two fingers inside of you, watching the way your body squirms at the sensation, and you moan against the pillow next to you trying to muffle yourself.

“Mmmm you’re so wet for me baby girl, you’re literally dripping on my fingers,” he says before he presses some kisses on your pubic bone, making you buck your hips in response. “Easy, kitty, we have all night.”

“God, d-daddy… please move your fingers or anything. I just. I need you so baaa—” your whining gets cut off once you feel his lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, coaxing a loud but broken moan from your throat. “F-fuck!”

You feel like screaming, you don’t know what to do with your hands, feeling so lost and overwhelmed with the pleasure Anakin’s giving you already. He dives between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance along with his fingers before he travels up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet appendage and sucking your button into his mouth.

You feel your body trembling terribly. You need more. You try to grind your wetness slowly against his lips as your body continues to shake.

Strong arms are suddenly locked around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.

You grab a random pillow as you hold it against your face to muffle your loud noises while your hips move along with the pace of his fingers. A moment later you feel him grab the pillow and remove it from your face, you whine as he drops it next to your body.

“I want to hear you, my sweet girl, don’t hide your pretty face and moans from me.” He says against your wetness as he curls his fingers inside you, playing with the sensitive spot inside you.

“A-ah, Ani, daddy please. I-I need more.” You moan desperately underneath him. You are squirming, it is so good you can barely even figure out what he is doing with his tongue.

Anakin slowly removes his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss. He chuckles against you, heat spreading all over your body at the action. His tongue is lapping at your lower lips. Loud incoherent noises come out from your throat. You’re squirming at the feel of his tongue moving around your entrance and Anakin just sighs like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than this right now, eating you out in your bed, and it feels so so good.

Slipping his tongue finally into your entrance, he curls the muscle upward to brush your walls, you practically scream at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed. Your head swims from his ministrations. Moaning and whining, you continue to writhe underneath him. You can feel the tight coil in your stomach, ready to snap.

“P-please, please. Ani, I’m so c-close.” You squeak when he starts thrusting his tongue in and out of you just like his fingers that had been doing it earlier before, your body trembling as you try to grind your hips into his mouth as you repeatedly whine his name.

“Come on baby, come for me,” Anakin says against your pussy before plunging his tongue back inside. Your trembling hands reach for his head, tugging lightly at his longer dark blonde strands, while moving your hips against his face, fucking yourself onto his tongue. As he applies pressure on your sensitive spot inside you with his tongue, you can feel his thumb circling your clit, making you see stars.

With a bit more pressure on your clit you come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as you feel your movements against his face getting sloppier. 

The orgasm you’re experiencing feels so intense, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You feel your pussy gushing against his lips, feeling more wetness slipping out of your entrance as Anakin moans against your cunt. You take in some deep shaky breaths, trying to gasp for air as you come down from your high. Your body trembles heavily as you try to come back to your senses. 

You feel Anakin’s tongue still licking up your pussy as he retreats his fingers from your pulsing hole. His mouth feels heavenly, but you whine at the sensitivity. He moans as he licks against your tight hole, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your entrance again.

“‘S too much.” You whimper at the overstimulation.

Anakin ignores your pleas, moaning against your heat as he continues to eat you out. The man you adore so much between your legs keeps sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises of ecstasy spur him on, to move his lips back up to your clit. He sucks the nub softly between his lips. 

The walls of your pussy clench furiously, the empty feeling inside you intensifying with every lick, and as your wetness trickles out of you, your core practically begging to be filled.

You begin grinding your hips against his face as moans keep spilling off your lips. “You’re so sensitive, kitten.” He remarks as he presses a kiss to your clit. 

Eventually he leans down, slipping his tongue into your entrance again, he curls the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encourages him to do it again and again.

You are a mess of his name, you chant his name over and over again. As if his name is the only word that you know at the moment. Your hips move against his face as you continue to whimper and moan breathlessly underneath him. 

Writhing below him, you feel him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that has you seeing stars, while your hips buck against his face uncontrollably. Your fingers are once again gripping onto his dark blonde hair rather harshly and your hips push against his face to shove his tongue deeper into your hole.

“Please,” you beg. You’re so, so close. You just need a little bit more to climax.

“Come,” he whispers his demand against you, before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb comes up to press against your little bundle of nerves. You come with a loud whine, your hips stuttering as your vision turns white. You cry out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. Your fingers are tightly woven through Anakin’s hair and your hips push so far against his face, you think you are almost suffocating him.

As you slowly come down to reality again and you try to catch your breath, you hear him praising you softly while he continues to lap at your wetness gently, until you whine and nudge him away with your leg because the overstimulation is getting too much for you. Finally Anakin detaches his mouth from your pussy.

He quickly licks the wetness off his lips before he crawls back up to you with a smirk, to kiss you deeply, cupping your face in his hands. You moan at the taste of yourself against his tongue, your eyes fluttering against his skin while you kiss, your arms wrap around him to pull his body closer against yours. You sigh happily, against his mouth, you feel yourself melting in his embrace already. You can feel his soft mouth smiling against yours, as the kiss gets more heated.

“You did so good for me, baby. My good girl.” He whispers against you. 

You pull away to look down between your bodies. He’s incredibly long, insanely so, and somehow even thicker, its rigid girth intimidating against your body. His shaft throbs under your gaze and you can’t help but fixate on it, you swallow thickly at the sight of it, the walls of your cunt constricting around nothing.

You can’t help but wonder if it was even possible to fit inside you. 

His lips chase your own, as he envelops you into another sweet but deep kiss. “Care to share what you’re thinking?”

“H-how?” You say quietly as you stare at him.

Anakin chuckles and you can’t help but pout at the sound of his soft laughter. “Baby, I’m not making fun of you. I swear.” He reassures you quickly as his hand cups your cheek gently. “Don’t worry, it will fit.”

You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock. You’re whimpering and moaning as you move. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh, baby,” Anakin groans, and it’s because he reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. Every single time his tip rubs against your hole you tremble more. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.

“Please, daddy.” You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You are still extremely wet, but the thought of him finally entering you with his big cock makes you wetter. Anakin swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against yours. He kisses you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

His broad body covers your own smaller body with his. You can’t help but love how bigger and taller he is than you. You feel so small under his large body, but in a good way. You’ve always had a thing for much taller guys. You love how sexy he is; his deep voice, his big hands, his large, muscular, sweaty body. You love hearing him call you his baby, his princess, his love, all the loving names he comes up with for you. You love how he treats you, how he has always treated you. He makes you feel safe and so loved. 

You are trembling against him, filled with anticipation. You writhe against him, wishing he was just filling your pussy up already.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes. “I’ll try to be as gentle and as slow as I can, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop and I will.” He promises you.

You whine and nod, not trusting your voice at the moment, as you rub your pussy against his dick.

“Fuck,” he moans, “I need you to use your words baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper breathlessly. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart, so much.”

He leans back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands leans down to spread your outer lips sliding his dick teasingly around your entrance. You arch your back slightly and whimper loudly out of frustration.

“P-please—” your whine gets cut off at the feel of him applying pressure at your tight hole.

Anakin slides the tip in such a slow way it is agonising. At first he struggles to enter the tight, unused walls of your virginal pussy. Your lips part with a cry. He is so careful, like he is afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. 

You whine at the stretch of him. He is so huge. Your tight pussy clenches around him as it tries to accommodate his massive girth. He continues to push more of his cock inside you. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping that the distraction and the kisses will soften the sting.

“Fuck, how are you so tight.” Anakin moans against your mouth, almost undone by the tight embrace of your velvet walls around his cock.

His hips still once he hears your strangled gasp. “Wha— it’s not m-me. Ah, fuck. You’re just huge.”

“Do you think you can handle more?” He smiles tenderly as he looks down at you.

“M-more?” You stammer with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly.

“Please,” You flutter your eyes close and whine as you nod. You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you beg him for more.

“Good girl,” he grunts softly. You think there isn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he utters those words you feel your heat get sopping wet. Your pussy continues to pulse and clench around his cock as he moves deeper inside you.

Once he bottoms out, you feel his tip kiss your cervix. Anakin lets his body rest against yours as he allows you to adjust to his size. You feel extremely full, as if he is made for you, and only you. A sudden feeling of completeness overtakes you, the sense of wholeness overwhelming you.

The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders. You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them together as the other one reaches up to your face.

His breathing is heavy as you squeeze his cock constantly. Small whimpers spill from your lips as you squirm underneath him.

You need more.

You slowly open your eyes to look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Ani.”

“You need me to move baby?” He asks gently, as his thumb swipes over your bottom lip.

“Yes, please.” You beg as your pussy clenches around his thickness rather hard which makes him moan. “I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He nods before he starts moving slow and deep, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds onto your hand tightly. The sting was hurting for a while, but it easily morphes into a more pleasurable feeling as he moves against you. 

He moans as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it.

“Such a tight pussy,” he groans.

A loud noise like nothing you’ve ever made escapes your throat, a strange cry of his name.

Anakin’s entire weight is braced on one hand beside you, his other hand moving to rest on your back, under your body, as he pulls your chest into his. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he grinds his cock into you. The angle is so good, gradually he picks up his pace, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him. Every time he thrusts into you, his pelvic bone drags along your throbbing clit, making you cry out his name in pure ecstasy.

“You’re taking me so well, kitten. Doing so so, good for me.” He whispers against your skin as he nuzzles his face against your neck.

You whimper as his lips move back up to your lips, enveloping them in a heated kiss. At a certain point you feel him slide into a pressure point in your core that has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes roll to the back of your head from the pleasure he is giving you. Your legs shoot out, wrapping them around his hips, and your heels dig into the fleshy globes of Anakin’s ass, pulling him deeper into you.

“Feeling good my sweet girl?” He moans, a small smile forming on his lips as he watches your face contort in pure pleasure.

His mouth covers your own instead as he swallows all your little noises, you can feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tight, tight, tighter. Suddenly everything feels too much. It is just too much for you to handle.

He quickens his pace, his hips snapping up to yours to a fast tempo. “This pussy was made for this me, isn’t it, kitten?”

You can only moan his name repeatedly in response. His hands can’t seem to get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. Your arms wrap around him and your nails dig in his back making him groan. The feeling of the coil is tightening in your belly, tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he admires you, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “You look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck— I bet you’d look so pretty full of my cum too.”

“Please…” you whimper at the thought of him filling you up with his cum. As your thoughts start to wander, things that you shouldn’t be thinking of yet, all because the thought of him filling you up with his cum has your thoughts going feral. It has you involuntarily clenching around him. (You try to store that fantasy for later.) “Please daddy, fill this pussy up.”

He groans as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Fervently, the two of you rock into each other, chasing your own highs. You cling desperately to him, your arms holding onto his shoulders as you writhe together. You crave his kisses, needing to feel his lips on yours, you strain your neck and press your mouth to his. Instantly, his mouth opens, and your tongues begin moving against each other leisurely.

One of his hands slides between your body before you feel him stroke your clit. He rubs your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’d cum. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips, your breaths heavily intermingling together.

“You want to cum, sweetheart?” 

You nod frantically at his words with your eyes closed as you bite your lip harshly. “Please, f-fuck. Need it so bad.”

“Cum for me, baby,” Anakin urges. His command, paired with the way his fingers caress your clit, and how his cock drags against your sweet spot, has you at the brink of your climax.

Mouth falling open, your muscles strain as you choke out a cry of euphoria. Your whole body trembles, squirming underneath him as you come undone. You held his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. Head lolling back, your back arches violently as you twist and contort in pleasure under him. 

Anakin groans in your ear as your walls spasm and pulse around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.

Feeling your pussy tighten in a vice-like grip, your inner walls gushing with wetness as you milk his shaft, Anakin moans deeply.

“Fuck,“ he moans, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “Going to fill this pussy up, until it’s full and messy.”

His own head falls onto your chest, and with a few more thrusts, he buries his cock as deep inside you as he can before he cums.

He moans loudly, as he comes inside you. The warmth of his seed fills you up and spreads within your walls. His warm cum fills you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. You whimper at the feel of his cum dripping out of you.

Once both of you catch your breaths, Anakin leans his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.

You feel him soften inside you, and as soon as you feel him move to pull out, you whine in protest wrapping your legs around him to prevent him from leaving you yet.

“Stay.” You whisper against his lips.

Anakin lets out a breathless chuckle at that.

“We need to clean you up.”

“Right now?” You whine again.

“Yeah,” he smiles as you pout. “How about this, I will clean you up and then we can cuddle as much as you want.”

“Will you stay?” You continue to pout.

“Yes, if my girl wants me to stay I will.” He smiles down at you, looking at you with so much love.

“Oh really?” You grin at him. “Am I your girl?”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yes, of course. Who else?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it.” You giggle before you press a soft kiss at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, you’re mine. Just like I’m yours. Completely.” Then his head moves just slightly, to capture your lips in another deep and loving kiss. As you lose yourself in the kiss, you don’t really notice as he softly unhooks your legs from around him. Moments later he pulls out as gently as possible.

You whine in protest, your walls a little raw from his thick girth, and when he retreats completely, you can’t help but squirm. Instantly, his cum begins leaking out of you, causing you to mewl in pleasure, your entrance throbbing and only forcing more of his cum out. 

Anakin sits back on his heels, his eyes drop to your pussy, a low groan falls from his lips. Your legs are spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he’s more focused on how his cum leaks out of you, his seed dripping down your ass. Or how your pussy clenches around nothing every now and then. His chest swells with pride, and he can’t help but smile lazily.

Leaning forward, he presses one hand onto your inner thigh, while the other swipes two fingers between your slit, gathering up his cum, and pushing it back into you. You wince at the sensation, a low groan slipping from your throat at the sensitivity. He presses a kiss to your knee in apology after he pulls his hand away.

“Come on baby,” he chuckles as he moves off the bed, taking you along with him. You whine as you realise that you’ll have to come along with him, leaving your soft bed.

“What? I thought you were gonna clean me up?” You pout. Your legs wobble a bit, your body aching as he tugs you to the adjacent bathroom of your bedroom.

“I changed my mind.” He smiles cheekily.

You raise your brow at him, looking at him suspiciously as he guides them into her shower. 

“If you think that we’re gonna do anything but clean ourselves then you’re mistaken mister.” You poke his chest playfully.

“I know,” he winks before he turns the shower on. Immediately, water shoots from the shower head mounted to the wall, the spray wetting your arm. 

Once you’re both cleaned, which took a while because you did more than just clean; lots of kisses and touches were shared, both of you finally crawled back into bed. The night is filled with lots of talking, laughter, your kisses, cuddling, more noises of pleasure and all the love you both share for one another. You know that you’ll never get tired of loving Anakin, regardless of how new your romantic relationship is. And you know he feels the same way about you too. You’re tired of running away, tired of pushing your true feelings away. Finally allowing yourself to be truly happy with the love you have for the man that adores you just as much.

He’s your medicine.

[mistydeyes]

𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽!

i’m currently not active atm but feel free to pursue my previous works <3

here's a short lil explanation as to where i am lol

click me for asks + requests :)

requests: closed atm!

pairings status: closed atm!

rules for requests - i love when you send things 💌

note - message me or comment on any one of my works if you want to be added to a tag list :)

I usually post on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays

izzie's fic recommendations - updated daily!

some things about me :)

the basics: 22, she/her, from the us :)

i'm a third year pharmacy student! also minoring in justice, law, and society

along with writing, i also intern at a retail pharmacy during the summer and a psychiatric hospital during the school year

so naturally my pharmacist series is my absolute favorite to write and research!

𝓶𝔀𝓲𝓲 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 - the full masterlist

don't know where to start? here's a few readers' favorites :) ❤️ - izzie’s favorites

💌 if you want to peek at all of my writings

S E R I E S

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - 141 x pharmacist!reader

all of my works and our pharmacist reader

a panacea❤️ - 141 meets the cure to all their ailments

sick day visit - you prided yourself on never getting sick but the day has finally come. as you’re resting in your quarters, a certain group pays you a visit :)

fake hypochondriac ghost x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - ghost goes to extreme lengths to see his favorite pharmacist

pain-killer fueled thoughts price x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - price landed himself in the medic tent and his pain killers are making him tell the pharmacist his feelings.

keep your weapons hot and bodies hotter (18+) - stripper!141 x fem!reader (codename: Phoenix)❤️

hunk-o-mania 141 edition - feast your eyes on Delilah's Den's newest male dancers

playboy bunny phoenix edition - an unforeseen guest complicates the mission, now you have to get ready to act as the distraction on stage

the joys of civilian life - 141 x civilian!fem!reader

opposite occupations - while on leave, the boys each meet a civilian that makes their time deployed and defending their country worth it

family moments - 141 x fem!reader

little moments and little voices - precious moments you spend in your home with your husband and children :)

oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up - your husband leaves this world too early and now you have to pick up the pieces with your children

secrets and pointed fingers (requested!)❤️ - simon "ghost" riley

behind locked doors - when the 141 thinks you're the mole, they make sure to extract the information in whatever way possible

empty apologies and avoiding glances - when you return back to base, everything is far from normal

half empty glasses and unchanging perspectives - you try to run away from the trauma at the pub but with a glass in hand, simon finds you

O N E - S H O T S

odd hobbies - 141 x reader everyone has their own hobbies, yours are just unique to 141’s perspective

butterfly effect - 141 x fem!reader they say "a butterfly flaps its wings in the amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of europe." what once was a silly quote now has implications as one action leads to your death.

opposite of a meet cute❤️ - 141 x civilian!reader most people have a cute story as to how they met their significant other but yours is a little more eccentric

V I S U A L S + R A N D O M

random things in pockets and bags❤️ SERIES - what does the 141 carry on them when they’re on leave?

pt i- kyle “gaz” garrick

pt ii - simon "ghost" riley

pt iii - johnny "soap" mactavish

pt iv - john price

E X P L A I N S my series of explaining the various timeline's of the games and characters

simon "ghost" riley's backstory

which modern warfare game should i play first?

some writings from the inbox

medication mixup - the medic unknowingly prescribing you a penicillin has disastrous results due to your allergy

141’s dossier - see what the dossiers laswell gets at the end of mw 2019 looks like! + template

ghost’s doppelgänger - how does the 141 and los vaqueros react to you joining the team? their reactions are even better when you share an uncanny resemblance with ghost

running mascara - 141 x fem!reader harsh words are said and you try your best to run away from the cause. however, everyone needs to face the issue eventually and now the 141 is left to pick up the pieces. initially part of my 1k celebration but i added a sequel as it was highly requested! PART I and PART II

mw2 x reader - my ongoing series of pairing y'all up and writing a short lil blurb about how you met and your relationship

izzie’s 1K celebration! - closed now :) but feel free to look and see some of the prompts + how i answered them

𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Oh and @duskdog thank you for ur fantastic tags on my other post it got me thinking about Bruce’s uniquely fucked up relationship with Tim and Stephanie, and Tim and Steph’s twin roles they play with how they vie for approval, and how Steph’s firing sort of starts setting up the stakes for her later actions, and I feel like a lot of those ideas actually start to come up in Robin #120. So I’m going to just ramble abt that now I guess.

Like, for one, we’re directed in multiple ways to compare Robin #120 and Steph’s firing in Gotham Knights #37.

Both Tim and Steph tell batman to “go to hell” in an almost identical speech bubble, the last thing Tim says while comforting Steph is “I know”, the exact same line Steph says last when she comforts Tim, and of course the fact that Steph herself brings up the similarity in situation directly.

Tim backstabs Steph for Bruce’s approval all the while asserting independence in Robin 106, and I feel like Robin #120 is almost a showcase of how his failure to follow through on his claims of independence bites him in the ass. (Maybe a little irony there. Maybe a little karma perhaps)

Tim does the same assertion of independence —> immediately concession thing when he tells Bruce he’s done and basically quits being Robin, only to change his mind completely and awkwardly continue on as Robin as if nothing had happened.

Tim basically proves again where his priorities lie: even its his turn to be the target of the most recent round of the Bruce Wayne’s Mind Games Wheel, he still comes back, he still fails to follow through.

Like, it sets a standard. Steph’s her own person, and I’m not trying to discredit her ability to think for herself here at all, but I think Tim’s choice to forsake his hurt over Batman’s mind game test and go back to Bruce sets a precedent. That this is just acceptable behavior if you want to be on Batman’s team. All I’m saying is this situation probably played some role in Steph’s willingness to pick up the Robin mantle despite her rocky history with Bruce. Steph herself is able to make this clear the connection between her own firing and Tim’s birthday gaslighting, and ergo, if Tim finds that behavior acceptable, if Tim can forgive and forget, if it doesn’t really matter, if Tim can move past it, then Steph should be able to do so too. It’s just part of working with Batman. I feel like that might set the stage for Stephanie’s ability to work under Batman again.

Probably a small factor, if one at all. And certainly not Tims fault really. But interesting to think about!

Additionally, I find the framing of roles so intriguing in Robin #120. Having Tim and Steph completely switch roles, (tricked by Batman becomes comforter, comforter becomes tricked by Batman) with all the corresponding dialogue switching with them (“I know”/“go to hell”) it kinda paints a grim picture.

Like on one hand, it’s nice that they have each other, and it’s horrible that they’re both so easily thrown from victim to comforter because the same man cannot and will not stop playing mind games with these teenagers.

And this moment is especially cool given how Tim and Stephanie are characters who are often shown in contrast to one another. They are contrasted in personality, contrasted in morality, contrasted in relationships with other characters, etc. something established both in Robin 1993 and also I feel picked up on in the fan sphere.

And for once, in Robin #120, they are not really being contrasted so much as directly compared to one another. They say the same words. They fit the same roles. They both are dealing with this same shitty Bat. They’re almost interexchangable, with how aligned their words and feelings seem to be.

But on the other hand, for me at least, Robin #120 also kinda really draws out the differences in the roles they are playing.

In GK37, Tims role as the comforter is perverted by the knowledge he has (and had) which Stephanie does not (and did not). He facilitated (unintentionally or not) the encounter Batman and Steph have. He chose to keep her in the dark, and he chose to lie to her. Of course, who knows what would have happened if Tim had warned Steph on his own, or even if he just hadn’t lied to Steph, their encounter could have very well gone the same way.

But regardless of that, Tim’s role is still not really pure. It’s a shitty situation for Tim to be in, sure, but his ability to comfort Steph is tainted by how he maintains the illusion that he had no clue this was going to happen to Steph, instead of the truth: he had clear advance warning.

And then in Robin #120, the tables are turned.

Now. I’m not really saying this was karma for him lying to Steph. But I’m also not not saying that.

But, I mean, Steph is comforting him, commiserating with his pain and mentioning her own shitty similar experiences and Tim Drake just sits there, seemingly trying to change the subject and ignoring entirely the (albeit unintentional) role he played in that particular mind game.

He should feel a little shitty about that, and I’m not sorry for saying it. He should feel guilty in that moment.

Almost certainly not Lewis’s intention, by the way, but I’ll read into whatever. I will say that no matter what, the parallels between GK37 and Robin #120 and definitely there, and I assume there for a reason.

[icycoldninja]

Alucard from Hellsing got me thinking about a female reader who is similar to Alucard (Another red clad duel pistol wielding powerful being similar to a certain woohoo pizza man but is sadistic and is a vampire), she looks intimidating and scary and has a demonic form that rivals the Sparda men. Demon blood has become her new favorite thing to eat, and she considered trying the blood of the Sparda bloodline, but due to the respect she has for Sparda and his sons and grandson in general and she fell in love, she instead goes after the lesser demons and when she’s not being a bloodthirsty killing machine, she shows affection towards Dante, Vergil, Nero and V.

I love vampires, and I think Hellsing’s Alucard is the best depiction of vampires in fiction in my opinion.

Oh yeah, here we go

Sparda boys + V x Alucard-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante loves your style, you look just like him!

-When you go out in public, people sometimes mistake you for siblings, which is hilarious, or they come to the conclusion that you're a couple who likes to dress alike, which is cute and kinda true.

-He was sure you were going to bite him, being a vampire and all that, and surprisingly did not object. He actually wanted to get bitten, simply out of curiosity.

-You ended up not going through with your plan out of respect for Sparda and his bloodline, as well as your love for Dante. You simply couldn't hurt your precious idiot.

-You instead go after lesser demons to sate your desires, Dante usually tagging along. He helps shoot down demons so you can get to feed on them quicker, which is very sweet of him.

-Speaking of being sweet, you can be all lovey-dovey too, though only behind closed doors, when the battleground is far away.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil saw your outfit and immediately thought of Dante. Your flashy fighting style is no help either; he's starting to see you as a female version of his idiot brother than anything else.

-Still, he loves you, even if you are a bloodsucking vampire that may or may not bite him in his sleep.

-He's rather tense around you, especially at night when he thinks you'll be most hungry. He's very worried you'll feed on him when he goes to sleep, so he tries not to sleep when you are near.

-You quickly assure him you won't feed upon him or any Spardas because you knew Sparda himself and have great respect for everyone in his bloodline. You will only consume lesser demons, never even baring your fangs at him.

-Vergil is now considerably more at ease around you, even going as far as to bring you freshly slain demons for your convienence.

-He also finds it very endearing that you're willing to be all vulnerable and affectionate to him--and only to him.

□ Nero □

-Nero thought your vampiric nature was cool as hell.

-Your clothes were pretty neat too, and unlike someone Nero knows, you don't look like a total slob in them.

-He thinks you're the hottest vampire to have ever existed, and occasionally calls you his "sexy goth girl" because you are.

-He wasn't too concerned about your feeding habits. If you needed his blood, he would gladly offer up his neck to you.

-You announced that you wouldn't need him for sustenance, however, and that you only fed off of lesser demons out of love for him and respect for his grandfather.

-Those special moments when you are kind and loving to him are moments Nero cherishes the most. He loves seeing this adoring side of you, and wishes he could see it more.

● V ●

-V, being a rather morbid soul, was intrigued by you, and the fact that you were a vampire.

-Since vampires live for a very long time, he reasoned you must have met, or at least seen William Blake at some point during his prime.

-If you have, do tell him everything you know, it makes him very happy.

-He thinks your clothing and fighting style are unique and beautiful, just like you.

-He wasn't the least bit worried that you would drink his blood, and was actually secretly hoping you would. He's always wondered what it would feel like.

-You love him too much to harm him, and would never drink his blood for sustenance, but perhaps you could sneak in a bite or two while passionately kissing him or something like that.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 28-29 Speedrun...

I'm trying to play catch up after falling behind a bit, so here's just a highlight reel/speedrun (as much as I can speed...which is not very much tbh). The meta has dwindled down to nothing; I do apologize. This is very much just reaction-based. Also, I'll probably have to stay out of the tag once the express episodes come out, unless the site I'm watching on uploads those eps too.

Spoilers incoming!

Ep 28

Heh. ZYC's plausibly deniable jealousy is back and boy have I ever needed it. His cursing better be more intense now that he's basically confessed to ZYZ several times over lmao. And oh how precious he is, taking Ying Lei's ice marks comment seriously enough to double check his neck.

Ah. Watching WX's convo with Princess Longyu while knowing what happens in ep 29, the irony of her lie about being poisoned...Good (and terrible) stuff...

Oh god oh dear I was watching the whole acting ordeal through my fingers with preemptive second-hand embarrassment for ZYC. The moment WX pulled out her little booklet but we were cut off from seeing the msg, I knew, esp given the very pointed shots of the fish right before their whole convo haha. Not bad of a set-up imo, more subtly natural than usual which I like since I prefer explanatory flashbacks to have a bit more premeditation baked into the original scene for viewers to pick up on in real-time, which this show doesn't always do.

But oh my. I have to say this. I apologize in advance but it's in my damn handle so forgive me but—ZYC is so fucking lovely when sulky and embarrassed. I'm smitten. I had seen the director post those shots of TJR all dramatically lit and beautifully framed months ago and I had no idea it was going to be used for this. And this is coming off the heels of the previous episode's mpreg joke, which I'm still not over. This show's commitment to flustering ZYC's character needs to be studied and replicated in fanfics. Who said that? Not me. Anyway.

I've seen mixed reactions to ZYC not being in on the acting, but just for me personally, I like that it wasn't intentional for them to leave him out, and I really am glad to have heard his honest feelings in that moment. It felt significant to see him make that decision against even the rest of their family, and I'd personally rather it come out while the rest of them are playing at discord than actually seeing them fight internally just to witness ZYC draw his ultimatum so genuinely and seriously. It feels like yet another moment where the narrative is creatively committing subtext into text for us and for ZYZ to hear, without having to torment us with somehow worsening the stakes within their group to the extent that would elicit such a reaction.

WZY and Chongwu Camp really invest in a lot of latex skin huh?

Oh my god I love that PSJ sucks at acting too. Her panic at having to pretend lmfaooo. Also, this gets at something I really should have realized much earlier on, but the way ZYC and PSJ have so many similarities in disposition and belief, and also how WX and ZYZ overlap a lot in their inclination for acting and playful tricks and teasing—I love that. WX and ZYC each gravitating towards respectively familiar personalities in romantic partners, which actually very much happens irl. Basically seeking out personalities similar to their comforting (pseudo-)familial bonds. Also explains why I love both ZYC and PSJ so much.

Lmfao Ying Lei's theme song kicking in as he volunteers to hold onto the dragon scale really does get me. His song captures his character so well.

Any day I get to watch TJR inception-act as Ao Yin acting as ZYC is a good day for me. That little snarl of a reaction after Ying Lei pulled out his weapon is some good shit. I love that even the texture of his voice and the cadence of his line delivery is different (the stark contrast when actual ZYC shows up in the next scene is *chef's kiss*). And he is uniquely suited for batting his eyelashes, I must say.

Okay! Onto Ep 29:

First ZYC forgets how to count when he calls them a group of five...now ZYZ tricks Ying Lei into giving his all to protect an empty box...when will the grievances against Ying Lei end?

My live reaction to finding out WX's been fatally poisoned: ZYZ, ZYC, Bai Jiu, and WX passing around the hot potato of mortality.

I'm glad for some more emotional development on the Li Lun!Bai Jiu front! I feel like he's been on the back burner for a bit with the ZYC demonizing (which he caused anyway, lol). I am certainly intrigued by Ying Lei being around to hear Li Lun!Bai Jiu's monologue and what this may lead to. And it's been said but LZY (Bai Jiu's actor) does soooo well here it's such a great watch.

Also...Li Lun wants a roof (well, technically, eaves) to shelter from the rain and a lamplight in the dark? Sounds like a throuple with ZYC and ZYZ really might fix him tbh.

Justice for WX in ZYC's flashback from two years ago. She does not say "Are you stupid?" but more along the vibe of "Don't be silly" as she and ZYC discuss his snake bite. The subs are too literal here it makes her sound so out of pocket lmao

God I'm so glad PSJ slapped all of WX's will to live back into her in ep 27 because yes girl!!! Fight for your right to live!! Also, speaking of, where tf is PSJ ): Her girl is dying, why doesn't she get any screen time to react? Do I assume she knows or not?

But yay! The contract ripping was cute. As an aside, I do wish I personally felt enough of a spark between ZYZ and WX to ship them on my own because the writing is there for their pairing to be pretty solid. Like I've said before, they're sweet and good together but they just don't rot my brain. I wonder what's missing for me because I honestly like their acting much more than I expected to. Perhaps it could also be a matter of contrast, as some dynamics in the web of relationships stand out to me in terms of chemistry more than others, even if we're not talking strictly romantic (I mean, I'm of the belief that TJR could have chemistry with a brick wall if he wanted to). Anyway though, I'm going off topic. ZYZ and WX cute (and tragic)!

I gasped at ZYC going to meet WZY. That's what I call desperate measures.

Ha, ZYZ asking ZYC to protect him while he's weakened from the Ever-Burning Wood reminds me of CQL c:

Yooooooo ZYC grabbing the newly reforged Cloud Light Sword and all that gorgeous light. What a hero. Smitten, I say.

Ohhhh the Li Lun/ZYC superimposed images, the way I was holding my breath and worried for a second that ZYZ would call ZYC by the wrong name !!!! That's some legit ex-vs-current-lover storytelling like whew. But I needed ZYC to catch ZYZ a little better than that when he fell like embrace the man already pls

The cave scene!!!!! I'm looking through my fingers. I feel like I'm intruding. How many jade pendants does ZYC have on his person for ZYZ to drink at any given moment? And oh wow something about the framing of ZYC's hand on the wine bottle as he mixes it—what an intimate ritual. Feels like I watched ZYC make three separate confessions just seeing him pull out the jade, mix the drink for ZYZ, and hold it out to him with his eyes averted...And then he goes and lays his heart bare (again! once more on top of the conversation in ep 26 like he is really not letting any chance of misunderstanding arise he is trying to show his hand as much as possible wow). But yeah who's gonna gif the wine mixing for me?

Fuckkkk, they're zhiji, they said it, I'm going insane.

I love ZYZ's pause right before he drinks the first cup. Watching the gravity of this moment and ZYC's absolute sincerity hit him, settle on him. Such a meaningful and significant breath between actions. Like, we are allll aware of how serious this is.

ZYC holding intense eye contact while drinking the second cup??? Uh??? I really should be turning away now right? And ZYZ's stare back is truly indistinguishable from his openly loving looks at WX. I am on the floor.

All of ZYC's toasts are about ZYZ being a savior of some kind ;-;

Another live reaction: WHEN DID ZYC BECOME A SURGEON THEY JUST DID SURGERY ON ZYZ'S CORE IM CRYING.

ZYC most dramatic surgeon I've ever seen did you see the way his hair caught the wind? God but his nonchalance is killing me. Yes why not bare your heart and soul over some wine you mixed specifically for ZYZ and then operate on ZYZ's core in one sitting? All in a night's work I guess. Also ZYZ's still recovering from the Ever-Burning Wood oh my god someone take ZYC's license away what is this medical malpractice. Bai Jiu is out of commission for a little bit and all of a sudden everyone thinks they're a doctor smh.

All I have to say about the WZY meeting is sometimes I get so distracted by ZYC's eyelashes. Also goodbye and good riddance WZY! Unless the drama decides to pull a fast one on us, which is never beyond the realm of possibility here. But at least he burned.

PSJ is back :D Head empty except for how pretty her red cape is.

Ouuugh Li Lun who is constantly possessing people and obsessively making others look at the real him and Ao Yin who is constantly impersonating people and now asking to be remembered for how she actually looks. What a pair, I can see why they stuck together all this time. Also Ao Yin's true form is so pretty. Girl I know you killed a bunch of people and continuously framed our heroes and caused so so so much heartache for them but I'll remember your true form dw )-:

The borrowed sympathy Li Lun gets while in Bai Jiu's body is quite poignant and so complicated and tbh I want more of it. As someone who doesn't want him to go down this unfortunate path any further, I have hopes about the potential there, but it's probably safer to expect the worst.

Not sure if this more surface-level commentary is still fun to read, but this will probably be all I have time for from now til the end. And since I'll be staying out of the tag soon, it'll just be me shouting into the void for the next few days. Thanks to anyone still sticking around and reading these!

Also sorry I don't add more photos on the regular, I'm watching the show in pretty shitty resolution and on a player than is awful to screenshot from (-: