#vicious reader

[yeyinde]

Would you consider writing a poly141 version of the babytrap universe? Completely understand if it’s not to your interest to write, but I would love to see that story play out in your delicious writing style :)

ohh, absolutely. i think the best way to do it would be to have poor reader, desperate for a family of her own, and making the stupid decision to hand her resignation into Price.

and then admitting, shyly, that there's no man in your life, just a donor waiting for you to sign the papers and make the deposit for the procedure. thanking him for everything he's done, of course; but you're excited for this new chapter in your life.

He accepts it. Sure. Smiles tightly, and says, "good luck." Calls a meeting after to discuss it with the rest of the team. Closed door. A little unusual, but nothing that immediately raises your hackles. You're too busy cleaning up your desk to really pay much attention to hushed whispers in Price's office. Happy to celebrate, too, when Johnny invited you out for drinks after. Tae say goodbye properly, he said, and looking back, you should have seen through the faux sadness draped over his brow. Picked up on the giddy excitement buzzing around him as he led you to the bar, as he offered to get you drinks. Handed you an open bottle. Tipping it back for you to drink more. 

Keep goin’, doe. Drink ‘er up. 

Another one. Another. Your head swims. Kyle is there, hands warm on your waist, breath rippling across the sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. 

“C’mon, birdie. Have a shot with me.” He coos, bringing the glass to your lips, chest glued to your spine. “Can't believe you want a baby. Fuck, birdie, that's—”

Johnny murmurs something under his breath. You blamed the three glasses of whiskey sour (Price wouldn't let you have anything else) and a shot of tequila for why it sounded like,

hope it's mine—

To the left of you, Ghost snorts under his breath. Shifts in the stool that creaks, whining under his weight. You blink through fog seeping into your head, this strange, syrupy torpor that bleeds into the corners of your vision, makes everything feel muted, far away, and turned to him with a pout. 

He'd been acting strange ever since Price told him your plans. Quieter, somehow. But—

There. 

Everywhere. 

Your fixed shadow. Looming in the corners. 

You make to ask him what the hell he's doing, why he's following you around, but the words slosh out in a tangle. Incompressible.

Ghost huffs. His gloved hand lifts, falls to your throat, holding you steady with his thumb digging shallowly into your pulse. 

“Careful,” he mocks, dragging the word out like he was speaking to a misbehaving child. It bristles through you, but your tongue is thick. Liquid in your mouth. “Got a big night ahead o’you yet, pet. Try not t’hurt yourself before I get to knock you up.”

Distantly, you think you hear Gaz say something—oi, mate, maybe—but there's a shrill ringing in your ear that drowns it all out. A cotton spooling in your head. You blink—foolishly—and lean into his palm, mouth dropping in surprise. Shock. 

Horror. 

“Wha—?”

But it's too late, of course. What you thought were the comforting threads of a warm blanket spooling over your shoulders was the silken strands of a spider's web the whole time. Caught in their trap. 

And then you come to with a warm weight pressed against your back, a thick, hairy arm slung around your shoulders. Trapping you tight against a warm, broad chest.

“Want a baby, mm?” your captain coos in your ear, humid breath tickling your skin. Dampening it slightly as he leans in close, lips pressed to the shell—a warm, wet heat that makes you tremble—and adds: “fine, love. Since you want one so bad—” 

An arm lashes out of the shadows dancing around the room; through the heavy haze, the fog in your head (the last thing you remember is being offered a drink by Johnny, another by Kyle—), you struggle to make sense of what's happening around you as rough, dry fingers curl over your knee, prying your thighs apart: 

“—then we'll give it to you.”

You watch, dazed, dizzy, as cherryred knuckles slip down the valley of your spread legs, the ink on their thick fingers flexing, dancing, in the slip of pale moonlight until they curl into the hem of your panties, tugging the fabric roughly to the side. 

The sudden swell of cold air on your exposed cunt makes you gasp. Your knees jerking, trying to fold together to hide yourself, preserve some modicum of modesty, but the hand on your flesh tightens. Prevents you from moving. It keeps you open for their gaze. Lets them all gawk at the wide knuckles pressed against the seam of your pussy. Flushed in the low light. Dripping—

In the murk, someone groans—

“Shoulda told us sooner you wanted a fuckin’ baby, sweet’art. Woulda given you one sooner before y’had to go an’ do somethin’ so foolish—”

Foolish. Like paying for another man to put a baby inside of you when that privilege belongs to them. And them alone.

And really—

You should have known better.

[jesuistrestriste]

How do we feel about exhibitionist art donaldson being shown off by patrick and/ or reader in the locker room? respectable world tennis star art donaldson might have the rest of the world fooled, but any tennis pro who’s step foot in the locker room at a professional tournament knows the truth.

ohh yea patrick’s leant back against the lockers, art’s back pressed against his chest while he jerks him off and watches all of their fellow athletes walk by and flush red when they see the way the blonde is squirming

“he’s cute, right?” patrick says with a smug smirk when a pair of two other tennis players stop to watch the brunette’s hand stroke and squelch against his friend’s wet cock

and art’s whining like a bitch; shuddering and curling in over his own abdomen like he’s trying not to lose it. but when he suddenly makes direct eye contact with one of the guys in front of them, it sends him so fast into an orgasm that he has to lean back against pat to prevent himself from toppling forward :/ he’s moaning and grinding into the hand still stroking him as he squirts ropes over the tile flooring. he’s got like five pairs of eyes on him now.

patrick knows how much his doubles partner likes being watched ! maybe next time he’ll bend him over the bench and really give everyone something to stare at <3

[literaila]

do you ever think reader would storm out of the house after a fight between her & satoru? (referring to ur keeping secrets fic.) i feel like part of her wouldn’t bc she’s also thinking about the kids and she just can’t leave them, but she also seems a lot more grounded than satoru in general. i think the other part of her would also need a minute to step out for a bit bc i just know satoru drives her to insanity. i don’t knoww, satoru’s reaction to her storming out just infects my brain, but i know she couldn’t do that to megumi and tsumiki </3 i’m such a sucker for your hurt/comfort fics

“where are you going?”

“not sure,” satoru says, barely mumbling. “i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t ask?”

he looks at you, just a glimmer of teasing in his eyes. but the rest of him is apprehensive—he knows what you’re thinking.

he always does.

but he looks back down, shoving shirts into a suitcase in the worst possible way.

“does it matter?” he asks, dryly. “it’s just another work trip.”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

“however long it takes to—“

“can i come with you?”

satoru pauses, and his eyes trail to you.

to you, where you’re standing in the doorway. you only know he’s leaving because of the suitcase, you only know that you can’t deal with him being gone again because of that feeling.

it’s reminiscent of packing your own bag at fifteen. of never returning home.

“you want to come?” satoru’s voice is too smooth, too unserious. “you hate planes. and what about work? you want to take your students too?”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

satoru sighs. he finally relents, walking over to you. his smile is a little irritated, tired. “it won’t take long,” he says, rubbing your shoulders. “you’ll get the bed all to yourself.”

“this is the fourth trip in the last three months.”

he tilts his head. “it’s the same amount as always.”

“it’s—“ you stop.

it’s different.

and your heart is racing, because you’re used to this feeling.

really, satoru has taken regular work trips for as long as you’ve known him. his passport is well used, his suitcase replaced almost once a year.

but it’s different.

because it used to be you, satoru, and the kids. it used to be you and the kids waiting at the door, talking about him behind his back, going to the airport to pick him up.

and even if you missed him, you knew that tsumiki missed him just as much. you knew that megumi was waiting for him to come back just the same—getting restless without someone there to mess with constantly.

it used to be you and the kids, when satoru was gone.

but now…

megumi is at school all week—and even when he comes home, it’s only to keep you happy. so that he can take a break from jujutsu, and sleeping in a dorm right next to yuji’s.

and tsumiki—

you stop thinking about that almost immediately.

it’s just not worth it.

when satoru leaves, you’re all alone.

“i wish you could come. you know how the higher ups are about—“

“why don’t you tell them no?”

satoru is wearing his blindfold, so you can’t see his eyes. but you see it as he leans back, looking at you curiously. “what?”

“tell them no. they’re scared of you, aren’t they? they’re not going to make you—“

“what other special grade sorcerer are they going to send?” he asks, shaking his head. “i hate them too, but if they need me—“

“i need you.”

satoru stops. you want to see his eyes—you want him to stay here.

you don’t want to walk around the house and chat with ghosts. you don’t want to be the only one left behind—the only one who has nothing else.

what about you? what’s supposed to happen to you when satoru leaves you behind?

he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

“what?”

“i don’t understand why you have to go,” you say, and you’re angry now. “i’m tired of your work trips, and i hate that you don’t even care, and i hate being in the house all alone—“

“what? what do you mean i don’t care?”

you pull away from him. just to do it first. “you don’t even try to get someone else to do it, you just leave—“

“why are you blaming me? i didn’t ask for this.”

“because you’re always gone! and i’m always alone, and you haven’t even asked me how i feel about it—“

“it’s not like i enjoy doing it,” he says, frowning. “i don’t like leaving you or the kids, it’s just work—“

“i think you do enjoy it,” you spit. and you know that you shouldn’t but, “you like being the only one that they can call. being the strongest. that’s why you haven’t told them no, that’s why—“

“what?”

“is it fun to leave the house? to escape for a week or two while i’m here to take care of everything?”

satoru scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“what? you can admit it. go on and leave. you’ve done it before, satoru.”

his jaw clenches. “if you don’t like being here,” he says, so soft—but you can feel it. the impending blow. “then go somewhere else.”

immediately, your body flinches back. you fall inwards, wanting nothing more than to fall back against him.

but it’s too late.

“i can’t help that im the strongest, i don’t enjoy leaving you—but ill do it because it’s my job. if you hate being alone, then find something else. go see megumi, or nanami, or—“

you take a step back, almost stumbling into the wall.

“you’re putting words in my mouth and i—“

but you don’t hear the rest of that sentence.

and maybe this is your fault. you shouldn’t have picked a fight, you shouldn’t have even said anything.

satoru isn’t to blame for your loneliness. he isn’t to blame for anything.

you turn around. and you walk out the door with shaking hands.

go somewhere else, he said.

and you will.

[sunkissedscribbles]

@inksoakedparchment us core:

[s1ater]

cherry pie.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

summary. reader never would have thought about getting high until she seems to have lost all her morals in one night with a boy she had never met before.

warnings. swearing, underage drinking and smoking

ricky rocks. YALL PLEASEEE bare with me. you can probably tell this is an older story because of the format, but just disregard the first half, i know it’s the lower end of my writing. it kinda gets better 😬 (edit: this story is so mid, i’m just trying to clear my drafts)

the room danced with colors, so many colors and shades you seemed to have never seen before. unfamiliar with their cause and purpose, unsure why you couldn’t touch them; it frightened you with the way they moved around, the way they twirled around your head like little ballerinas.

you swallowed, dropping your head back against the grungy brown couch sat in the corner of one of the back rooms of connor’s house, a boy you found yourself calling on day after day for the past two months for fun, and by fun you meant sex.

but tonight, you hadn’t seen the boy for what you could count as hours. there were other things on his mind rather than a high off their ass you. other pretty girls with less clothing on their bodies and longer hair that was paid more attention to than your own.

you couldn’t care less at that point in time as you felt so deep in a haze, nothing could pull your attention. nothing, until the seat next to you sunk in from the pressure of bodyweight and another high body, seeing the same things you were seeing, feeling the same things you were feeling. 

he just had it more under control. 

“you going to stare at the ceiling all day, love?”

you rolled your head to meet the eyes of a crazed blonde with matching brown eyes. delight swirled in his irises while he looked at you with also dazed eyes, almost ceased shut from swelling of the high. you looked amazed right back at him despite sober you would have been disturbed, never seeing a person so out of their mind.

“who are you?” you stared at him, shocked. 

“your new boyfriend,” he wiggled his eyebrows, jumping and readjusting himself up against you, his arm now slinging up and over you shoulders. a new kind of energy swelling through his chest, “i say we go on a date.”

he stared in front of him focused full hearty, as if visualizing something at that moment. you squinted, looking to where he was looking as if trying to see what he was seeing, but not enough weed could put you on his level. 

“i say, we leave right now, get some pie, maybe some coke. whatever you like sweetheart, i’ll give it to ya.” “I think your sweetheart wants some space, jake,” your eyes looked from the boy who sat next to you, jake, to the boy who now stood before the two of you, an unimpressed look on his face. his arm reached out to jake, practically yanking him from your side. “alright pal, let’s go for a walk.”

you watched jake stumble into him, “but louis, she’s pretty.”

louis glanced back over his shoulder as he begun to pull jake away from the couch and toward the door, now really coming to your attention. his eyes raked you up and down before smirking a little bit, nodding to himself, “sure man, she is.” 

he begun to walk away with jake wrapped around his shoulder before you got up fast almost tripping over your feet, not wanting them to go, “wait, i want a pie.” 

he looked back at you and your disoriented self. your shoulders were slung low, making you smaller than you actually were. your hair was all staticky, hanging above your head like a crown, and your eyes; dilated and filled with innocence.

he smirked, looking you up one more time before nodding you over, cuing you to follow after him, his arm still holding jake to his toes.

the boy’s car was blue. louis’ car was blue. it was one of those old, nice, restored cars that must have been worth thousands. the interior had light brown leather seating that made noise every time you shifted and readjusted yourself due to the old springs lying beneath. it made you giggle as you sat next to him in the front seat, jake lying in the back due to him not being just high, but rather cross faded. louis had apparently found him completely plastered out of his mind once he had first arrived at the party, leading him to hand jake a blunt to finalize his out-this-world experience. it wasn’t smart, but it kept louis entertained to say the least.

louis had glanced at you multiple times as he drove through the silent streets. he seemed eager or maybe even a little irritated as he watched you bounce around, lacking the ability to sit still as your eyes darted everywhere, from street lights to stop signs to anything that’d fully occupied your vision.

“have you ever been high before?” he asked, stopped at a stop light with red lights shading upon both your faces.

“nope,” your eyes wandered across the ceiling of his car. you ran your fingers along the soft carpeted interior—strange, but very stimulating and soft—making you feel all fuzzy inside of satisfaction. “louis, i love you car.”

he chuckles lowly, directing his eyes back to the road, “a lot of people do,” his lips were turned upwards into a slight smirk. it made the fuzzy feeling in your stomach turn warm as there was something very satisfying about just the way he looked. “we’re here.”

your eyes flick to the front of you where your visions bursts with neon lights beaming from the large “diner” sign pinned against the small vintage looking building. you're quick to slip out of the car to the euphoric sight.

“y/n!"

you stopped in your tracks at the sound of your name, glancing over your shoulder where your eyes immediately find a group of boys congregating together with one single boy appointed to attention to you. 

louis. 

"hold on. give me a minute, guys," you watch louis from five feet away, brush his friends off despite the yearning looks of amusement on all of their faces, looking between the both of you. he’s far from bothered or just doesn’t notice; brushing them off before meeting you to where you stood.

it was a wednesday after school. the sweet sound of louis’ voice and sight of his captivating face was the last thing you thought you’d come across. it must’ve been a mutual feeling with the way he looked you up and down, all winded looking. 

"you're a hard person to find."

"you've been looking for me?"

"of course," he has a cigarette in his mouth.

"I almost didn't think you were real."

"of course i'm real, sweetheart," he grins harder at you. "that fucked up, were you?"

you snort. if not being able to remember half of what took place that night counted for being fucked up, you took the trophy.

"well, alright. i'll take that as you had a pretty good night."

"one of the best."

“good,” he grins, “that’s a rare occasion for girls like you.”

“girls like me?” you scoff, arching a brow. his sentence could easily be something taken for offence, but the lighthearted tone to his voice only proved he was looking to mess with you. 

“yes,” he laughs with you. “usually drinking is the only thing you’d catch a teenage girl doing for non-sober purposes.” 

you nod, agreeing, because he wasn’t wrong, “i’ve had a fair amount of experience with alcohol and let me just say, i’ll be steering clear of that for a while.” 

“ah,” he tips forward on his feet in amusement. “i could’ve guessed you’re a wild one with your liquor, y/l/n. make some questionable choices.” 

you feel your face heat up in thought, “i won’t say you’re wrong.” 

louis lets out a small huff of laughter, before pausing all movement. he stares at you for a moment with narrow brows, as if trying his best to read you, “you ever wanna smoke with me, just let me know, alright?” he patted your back before suddenly walking past and away from you. your back was to him now but you could hear pat pat pat of his feet in the grass.

you frown, your eyes finding the cracks of the sidewalk as you think of how brief and unusual that was. you feel a large hole in your chest of unfulfillment. 

“louis, wait,” you shifted around rather quickly as a reality hit you, but you didn’t make any moves to chase after him. he turned as well as if waiting for it. “you uh, you didn’t tell connor i was with you guys, did you?”

yikes.

that’s not what he wanted to hear. 

louis pinched the bud of his cigarette, nodding to himself, thinking contently to his answer before exhaling, a thick cloud of white swirling out into the air before your eyes. you feel dazed, still high from the days before, filled with such naïve joy and lost thoughts of things you couldn’t remember now.

he threw his cigarette on the ground, eyes meeting yours again, only they were hard now and filled with no light heartedness like all times before. and his voice wasn’t soft or full of amusement either but dry as he stared you dead in the eyes, “why, he your boyfriend?”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your eyes not meeting his for a while until after you thought about your answer. and it was an easy answer, no, but it was never something you’d ever consider a question. 

“no, no he’s not.”

“you sure about that?”

“not my type,” you smile slightly, examining louis’ pale cheekbones and facial features, the cold of the weather turning his complexion slowly red. your eyes drag to reach his red chapped lips.

him, he was your type. 

“enough of your type for you to fuck him,” he gave you a pointed look as if he had caught you in the act of something, and almost immediately your cheeks burned, like you were caught for something you knew you shouldn’t have been doing. 

you didn't understand why or how he knew. louis was someone you didn't know at all and what you and connor did was something you didn't tell anyone.

"you're surprised?"

"yes."

"why do you care what he knows, let alone fuck him?" he doesn't say anything more on how he knows like you hoped he would. "if he's not your type?"

you bite into your bottom lip, wincing because you didn't know the answer to it, "I don't."

"but you do," he slightly smiles but it's only out of annoyance as his voice catches up to cut you off on your lie. "I think you do, y/n. and you just don't want him to know we kissed."

"your mouth tastes like cherry."

"so does yours."

fuck.

"no, louis..." you wince, immediately regretting stopping him. "that's not what I meant. he doesn't mean anything to me."

he scoffs, "funny."

he doesn't believe you. not even close.

"you know he has label on you."

"a what?" you frown immediately, taking a step forward out of instinct.

“i’m a fool to think you’d ever stop liking him,” he holds his face, running his fingers along the sharp lines of his jawbone as he thinks about his idiotic hope that’d you so fastly fall for him as you did with connor. “foolish to think you’d drop him over one night.”

you’re even more confused now, “it was one night, louis.”

“you act like there isn’t the possibility that i’ve known you even before that night, y/n,” he has a smile that comes on his face but it isn’t something genuine. it’s annoyed. “your jerkoff of a boyfriend isn’t as secretive about you as you think.”

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

he scoffs, “you keep saying that.”

“because it’s true.”

“do you know what he says about you?”

“obviously not, louis,” four steps forward, four steps closer. “you keep speaking of ‘labels’ and whatever, but why don’t you just say it. what does he say about me that is so crazy?”

he didn’t expect the sudden brief and assertiveness you pull with your movement and words. it knocks him into a slight revelation as all he can do is stare at you and breathing, memorizing this side of you. 

“did he say i was a whore?” that was the only possible thing that you could think of at that moment that could be so bad. “he tell you i was a slut?”

it’s silent. you watch him think and the way he unintentionally avoids your hard stare with the thought process.

“ask him yourself.”

**

“has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes.”

you feel your face burn upon the comment. everything in your body felt as if was about to burst upon the simple company of louis. even though it had to of been hours since connor’s house, and the diner, and even dropping jake off at his own home, you still felt out of your mind in the best way possible. all of your sense were still high, but your vision was fuzzy and you felt lag in your movement.

how were you still high?

“you have,” you felt yourself giggle, to which he smiles with a tip of his head, watching you.

“cute,” his fingers rubbed against his mouth in thought before reaching to you. you felt yourself inhale sharply at his sudden movement and hold your breath once they reached their destination; raking through your hair. “how does he do that to you?”

“what?”

“nothing,” he shook his head, still twisting his fingers through soft strands of your hair. you feel yourself relax, watching him and the way he seemed so focused on just you. “you’re just very pretty, y/n.”

you feel your eyes slightly widen, but his face doesn’t shift at all. he’s calm, while you feel your entire body burst once more into heat. you’re itching to move, you can’t just sit still in that burning warmth beneath his stare. you feel yourself move, leaning forward on your knees so your lips meet louis’.

louis smiles against the pressure of your lips against his--he almost forgets to kiss you back because of it. 

almost. 

his hands rack up and down the front of your body, lightly pressing into the hold he had around your rib cage, as if willing to crush you beneath his grasp as long as that meant you wouldn’t leave. this contact isn’t enough even for you. you want to feel him all over and the heavy hands holding your body isn’t enough. 

you’re on his lap now, one of your hands holding the top of his shoulder while the other claps his cheek. louis feels as if his own body is about to burst beneath you... this is all he has wanted, for a while, and now that he’s got it, he feels it’ll destroy him. you’re ignorant to his feelings, but you feel just as feverish with your heart thump-thumping within your chest, as if speaking to his. 

“your mouth tastes like cherry,” your chest is heaving up and down as you pull away, your wide stare boring into his own eyes with something of delirium. 

he’s smiling wide, tipping his head back against his seat to see your face better, “so does yours.” 

now you smile, “i like you louis.”

he almost groans, rolling his head side to side at the sound of those precious words, “you’re killing me,” he pulls the sentence straight out of his mouth like it was sarcastic, but he meant it, “say it again,” he wanted it. 

“i like you,” you repeat, this time his hand is on your cheek. “please kiss me.” 

oh, jeez. 

he stares, breathless, “okay.” 

***

it was a week after your fallout with louis and you couldn’t think about anything other than that. you felt a sudden emptiness and need for something that you barely even had; louis. 

every little micro interaction you had with him ran through your mind like a record, over and over till you felt you were going to throw yourself off a cliff. and it wasn’t just the connor comment--which was something you really, really couldn’t stop thinking about--but the seemingly quick liking he had taken to you. 

it had caught you off guard, but the more you thought about it, the more curious you became as to the whole thing; which was what led you here; connor’s house, on a friday night where he was once again throwing. 

“what have you been saying about me?” you stood in front of him, connor, your vision narrowed as you stared at him, examining him as if his whole existence was strange. 

“what?” his confusion was genuine as this question was rather abrupt and you made no attempt to make introductions. 

“you know louis partridge?” 

connor looks between you and the people he currently stood with, confusion still reeking his features, “yes..?”

“what have you been telling him about me?”

“you want to talk about this somewhere else?” 

“i want a straight answer,” you feel his hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from his crowd without an answer from you. 

“which i can give you if you weren’t so vague... why are you talking to partridge?” 

“you got a problem?”

the two of you are stopped in front of a boy; jake. 

“no, man, i think we’re good,” connor pays him no mind, side stepping him fast with you still in grip, continuing to interrogate you. you ignore connor, watching jake the whole way you’re being pulled while he watches you. you feel as if the boy isn’t real, like he was someone you had made up when you were high, but there he was, staring just as shocked, but equally skeptical as you were pulled further and further from him. 

“are you listening to me, y/n?”

“what?” 

“i asked you what you were on about?” you’re now in an empty corner, secluded away from the rest of the party. “haven’t seen you in days and you’re on a tangent about a boy you barely know, what’s going on?”

you finally focus on him, barely processing the words he was putting in your ears, but you didn’t have to in order to hear the fake sympathy and concern. 

“how do you know louis?”

he shurgs, “see him every time i throw. gotta get to know my usuals.” 

“yeah, and how well have you gotten to know him?”

he shakes his head, feeling attacked, “why?”

“because i think it’s my right to know what you’ve been saying about me to him and whoever else,” the seal of your calmness breaks as you extend an arm out, ready to scold him for anything he was about to say. 

his expression drops in return, knowing any attempt to make you calm and make the situation subtle was out of his hands. connor knew you well enough to know you were too far into your frustration to calm you down. 

“what’re you talking about?”

but that didn’t mean he had to comply. 

“your new choice in men is obviously not working out for you. even they know i’m the best you’ll ever have.” 

“what?” your head drops forward, taken aback at the sudden escalation connor had taken to his approach in words. “what the fuck are you on about?” 

he smirks, pushing the red solo cup he had up to his lips, glancing around before looking back down to you, “why else do you think he lied to you about whatever it is you’re asking?”

“i can’t believe this,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “pull yourself out of that goddamn lie before you make yourself look even more like a fool. what have you been saying about me?”

“i find it best you don’t lie about this one, mate. you have an audience of witnesses,” there’s a hand on your back and a voice intervening. 

the two of you focus to louis who suddenly stands behind you, daring connor to push it. the boy looks confounded looking between you, louis, and the crowd of boys behind him. he doesn’t know what to do within the corner he had backed himself into. 

“whatever, this is my own fucking party. i don’t need to do shit,” he shoves past all of you. you all watch him storm away, not looking back, leaving you all to yourselves in the dust. 

“let’s talk,” louis says immediately the moment you look up to him, nodding off in a random direction. 

you slowly nod, following him. 

“i didn’t think you’d actually ask him.” 

a laugh gets caught in the back of your throat, shaking your head at the ignorance as he opens the passenger door to his car for you, “yeah?”

“yeah,” he slides into his own side of the car. “but then again, what would i know about you?”

“a lot, apparently. more than i would guess,” you lean your head against the palm of your hand, staring at him carefully. “you gonna tell me what he said now?”

louis looks hesitant, not even looking at you anymore as he thinks on how to answer. he doesn’t want to answer, it’s that simple, but he owes it to you to give you something sense he was the one who told you in the first place. 

“when i met connor, he talked about you a lot. a lot for someone i barely saw. it was like every party he had something new to say or nothing new at all. as long as it was you he was talking about,” he smiles to himself, thinking of all the bragging and praising he had put into you, all for connor to just... “you were like a prize to him, y/n--until you weren’t. he called you easy, but you were his. he said he could walk you like a dog because he was the only guy you thought of.” 

you feel rage and annoyance fume in the base of your chest as he speaks. he can see it form in your eyes, take over any look of calmness or subtlety from before. you make a move to push yourself back and out the door but louis is quick to grab your arm, pulling you right back to him, only closer. 

“hold on there, cowgirl,” your almost in his lap. “you’re better than that.”

“am i?” you’re squirming, almost pulling from the grasp his grasp if it weren’t for how warm he made you feel.

“yeah,” he’s smiling at you. “why waste any more of your time with him anyways when you could just be here with me?”

you couldn’t help but fall victim to the pulling sensation on your lips to smile at him. you feel that fuzzy feeling creep up into your stomach at his stare like the first time you were both alone in his car and suddenly all your anger at connor melts away.

“only if you offer me cherry pie.”

@aliyahsutherland @ioveisabel @multifandom-obsessed @remuslupinluvr @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @cc13723things @p-prettysour @sweeth0lland @heyitsmeimdead @ishwiya @thehuntress09 @Anushi @ss-tipton @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @thedeadlythoughts @amourtentiaa @instabull @rudypankowisdaddy @sunsetcurving @225786As @lukewearingbeanies @voiddtrinity @kiramdd @oliviasrodrighoe @s8xwz @highkeygolden @kitkat-mini @anicon_bby @itzstacie @spencybear @Msvrgs914 @whoreforsophialillis @w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @i-love-scott-mccall @alexmercer-reginaldpeters @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @dayanaralight @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @hizziestial @whoreforpsychopaths @sunsetcurve-95 @siriusspuppyy @mxsmwndr @youdontlikethatdoyoucupcake @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @xivilivix @morganaah @eichenhouseproperty @confusedchildstuff22 @alliechickens @moonlighy @ancientimes @gabeisinluv @thelaststraw3 @i44nishi @navyabhatnagar @iluvt4ylorswift @liltimmyst @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @esposadomd

[princessanonymous]

Of Trials- Part 2/3 (Ask)

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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Story Chapter list

Finally another one posted! Y'all, I'm a slow updater,but you best believe I'll update nonetheless. Better late than never. XD

As I said last time, this is from an ask someone sent to me privatly. Once again, you'll need to read the main story, When Night Comes (Linked aboved) to understand this. :)

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Immortal Children were children who had been turned into vampires at a far too young age.  These children, once transformed, became uncontrollable beings, driven by impulses they could not yet understand or manage. Their beauty was unmatched; they were truly irresistible beings fated to remain untouched by the sands of time. Their physical perfection was a double-edged sword, enchanting and deadly in equal measure.

With red eyes that shone like bright fire and smiles that retained an eerie innocence, Immortal Children possessed an almost angelic appearance. This innocent facade belied the dark reality of their existence. Despite their sweet appearance, they carried the same capacity for horrific violence every other vampire had. Their enchanting smiles masked the bloodshed and destruction they were capable of. The problem lay in their inability to control their impulses and the immense danger they posed to both humans and vampires alike. Immortal Children brought chaos wherever they went, leaving a trail of death and suspicion that threatened the secrecy of the vampiric community. Their very existence was a cause of disaster, as their actions could not be predicted or controlled.

The creation of an Immortal Child was considered a crime of the highest order within the vampire world, a transgression with severe penalties for both the sire and the fledgling. It was seen as a reckless act, bringing risks that outweigh the benefits. A crime Dorian had now been accused of.

"We can leave," Killian suggested, pacing around the room frantically. So frantically, in fact, that he didn't notice when his feet reached the wall, and he began to walk up it. Had Dorian not been so preoccupied, he would have commented on the impropriety of such behavior. "You always said you wished to visit Japan again; we should go. I'm sure (Y/n) would find it lovely.”

Dorian wanted to pull his own hair out in frustration. "They will find us," he promised. He was sure of that. "And when they do, no trial shall be held and we will both be made to burn under the deadly sun. You might suffer the same fate, for helping us."

Killian stopped and turned to face Dorian, standing upside down on the ceiling with a look of incredulity. "So you want us to wait until they come to take you both? Have you lost your mind?"

Dorian's eyes burned with a mix of fear and resolve. "I haven't lost my mind, Killian. I'm trying to protect us. Running would only delay the inevitable and draw more suspicion. They have eyes everywhere. Leaving now would be a death sentence."

"So you will let her die?" Killian demanded in outrage. "You turned her, and I won’t allow you to do that to her." Killian had grown to care deeply for (Y/n), just as much as Dorian did. It had taken some time, but he had come to take on a more important role, that of a second father to her.

"Oh, don't you dare accuse me of that!" Dorian's eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising defensively.

"You created this problem!" Killian bit back, pointing a finger at Dorian. "(Y/n) could have had a perfect, happy, and fulfilling life without your interference."

"She would be dead!" Dorian screamed at him, his voice cracking with the intensity of his emotions. "Dead and rotting in the ground, eaten by maggots, larvae, and any other pests wanting a piece of her!"

Killian recoiled slightly, the rawness of Dorian's words hitting him hard. But he quickly composed himself, his own emotions bubbling to the surface. "And instead, she’s trapped in this cursed existence. Is that really any better?"

Dorian's eyes blazed with a mixture of rage and desperation. "I couldn’t just let her go! You don’t understand, when I looked at her for the first time, I just… I just knew she would complete us. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while she slipped away.”

Then, there was a knock at the door, and they paused, their argument abruptly silenced. Dorian took a deep breath and called out sweetly, "What is it, starshine?" He wondered how long the girl had been standing behind the door, listening to their heated exchange.

The door slowly creaked open, and the girl who was the subject of their worries stepped in. Her red eyes gleamed with an innocence that belied the turmoil surrounding her. She looked between Dorian and Killian, sensing the tension in the room.She had her face scrunched up in an adorable mou that drew a smile on his own face.

"Was it a nightmare?" Asked his now calmer partner.

She shook her head looking frustrated. "You're arguing more than usual.”

Killian agreed with her, sending her an apologetic look. “We apologize, dear. Your father and I have been terribly preoccupied recently.”

"Because of that lady?" she probed further, her keen intelligence shining through.

Dorian shook his head, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. "Why don’t I take you back to your room?" he suggested gently.

"I don’t like her," (Y/n) said, clutching the hem of her nightgown, “She was awfully unpleasant. I don't want to see her again."

Dorian smiled weakly at her, feeling a pang of guilt for having brought her such distress. He planted a gentle kiss on her head. "That is alright. You won’t," he assured her softly.

He walked her to her room in silence, aware that she sensed his restlessness. They had tried to curb her habit of sensing the emotions of everyone around her, but their efforts had never worked. Over time, they had grown accustomed to this small breach of privacy, deciding to simply try to keep their emotions in check, knowing that she was affected by strong emotions. By the way she clutched his hand, trembling slightly, he knew their attempts hadn't quite succeeded.

"I can feel how scared you are," she whispered. "It makes me scared too." 

Dorian's heart ached at her words. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. The weight of his emotions was heavy, but he forced himself to remain composed for her sake. As they reached her room, he opened the door, intending to tuck her into her coffin.

But as the door swung open, the metallic scent of blood assaulted his senses, pulling him abruptly back to reality. His only reaction was to raise his eyebrows as he took in the scene before him: a woman's body lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless and drenched in blood. Despite the horror of the sight, a strange sense of resignation settled over him. He felt an astounding lack of surprise as he gazed at the corpse on the floor.

"(Y/n)," Dorian breathed out in defeat, his voice heavy with a mix of relief and frustration.

"Mayella cut herself while cooking today," (Y/n) explained with a shrug as she walked over to the corpse, completely unfazed by the sight. She plopped herself down on her coffin, swinging her legs casually. "I kissed the hurt goodbye."

"Starshine," he began, struggling to keep his voice calm, "you can't just—"

But as he looked into her innocent eyes, he felt his throat close up with a mixture of frustration and despair. It seemed they had tried to teach her better self-control, but it never seemed to stick. Feeding was always at the forefront of her mind, even after she had eaten only a few hours ago.

He looked at her tenderly and laughed wetly.  "You did well," he whispered, hoping she didn't notice the despair that overtook him.

[blindmagdalena]

I’m in dire need of angst. How do you think he would react to someone who didn’t have a close relationship with their parents? I’m just imagining an awkward Christmas dinner, their family totally sucking up to Homelander. But also not-so-subtlety making passive agressive/snarky comments towards the reader.

It was definitely his idea to go to Christmas dinner in the first place. You've been dreading it. He insisted, though. You don't want to deny him this when he doesn't even have a family, and he's clearly so excited by the prospect of it.

And to be fair, it started off well enough. Your family was so excited to meet Homelander. They couldn't believe this was really happening!

It didn't last long, though. Your dad just had to make an offhanded remark about how you sure were "dating up."

That was the beginning of the end.

Through the night, Homelander grows gradually less boisterous. He's talking less, listening more. You're uncomfortable, dejected, but ultimately you knew it would end up this way. You just wish he would have listened to you.

By the time dinner rolls around, the tension in the air is palpable. Homelander has stopped preening under the praises of your family. You want nothing more than to eat and leave.

The final straw is when your mother sneaks in a snipe about how you "Really could have dressed up for the occasion."

"Well, Sheryl," Homelander begins, his tone immediately catching the attention of the entire table. "You could have tasted the mashed potatoes before you salted them into an inedible sodium fuckfest, but hey, I guess that's beyond your scope of competence."

The silence is deafening.

He isn't done. "God, y'know. You people. You had one job. All you had to do was be good. Nice. Shovel some food into your face and not be total fucking pricks at every available moment, but y'couldn't even manage that. Y'had to air out eeevery single little nitpick and grievance that sprang into your circus peanut brains."

You're stunned, jaw hanging. Your mother's expression mirrors yours. With a noise of indignation, your father begins to stand.

"Sit the fuck down, Henry," Homelander snaps with a flare of crimson to his gaze that puts a shiver down your spine. It works. Your father sits, and the light fades away. "Now that's the smartest thing you've done all night. Didn't think you had it in you."

Homelander pushes his mostly full plate away and sighs, picking up the napkin from his lap to fold. "I was the one who asked to come here, y'know. Practically begged. Thought Christmas might just be a grand ol' time. Do you know how often I'm wrong? I'll give you a hint: it's not often. But you..." He wags his finger between them, smiling more maliciously than you've ever seen him. "You folks really got me tonight."

He stands up. Your heart is pounding in pure anxious adrenaline. For a moment you have a terrible vision of him leaving you here, furious with them and you that this wasn't the experience he had been hoping for.

His hand in your face snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up sharply, and see him looking down at you, that wicked expression suddenly much softer. Kind, even with that anger still simmering under the surface. You close your mouth and take his hand, swallowing.

"Lucky for me I already got my Christmas wish, hmm?" He says, offering you a little wink. "You are... perfect," he says, leaning in to press a tender little kiss to your forehead, emphasizing it with a pointed mmmwuah. "No idea how you escaped all that unscathed," he says, nodding his head in your parents' direction. "So, how about you and I blow this popsicle stand and go find a whooole lotta mistletoe to stand under?"

You exhale a breathless little laugh, tears prickling hotly at your eyes, overwhelmed by how thoroughly he came to your defense. "I'd really, really like that."

Glancing over, Homelander offers your parents one last tight, venomous little smile. "Merry Christmas, you miserable fucks."

Which is exactly how he signs every single Christmas card he maliciously sends your parents each year from that day forward.

[iamthemain-character]

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Chapter One: A Lightfury’s Guide to Stealing A Dragon Rider

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x fem!oc

Word count: 3.1k

Chapter Summary: When a destroyed fleet of dragon hunter ships wash up at Dragon’s Edge, with all that is left behind are white scales and scorch marks, it leaves some questions to be raised within the dragon riders and what could have caused this. On the other side of the archipelago, a girl that appears and disappears at Northern Markets makes her presence known, planning to stick around until the heat calms down.

Overall Summary: A mysterious new dragon rider has been starting to make their presence known by tearing through dragon hunter ships and leaving nothing in their wake. What dragon they ride is unknown. What they look like is unknown. Why they are hunting the dragon hunters is unknown. The only thing that is known is that they will stop at nothing to destroy every dragon hunter ship at any cost.

N/A: Make sure you check out the prologue for this series! I feel like near the end of the chapter it sort of goes off the rails a bit. Hope you enjoy :D

*Art and gif is not mine.

Hiccup started his day like any other; waking up relatively early–at least earlier than the twins or Snotlout–and getting Toothless for a morning flight, usually to be met with Astrid as she finishes her rounds of the island, insisting she does a sweep of the island to make sure no hunters had found their way onto the beaches.

Toothless was already awake and bounding around Hiccup’s hut. His teeth were retracted as he watched Hiccup stir awake.

Not waiting for his rider to fully wake, Toothless jumped onto the bed, shaking it as Hiccup startled awake, trying to sit upright only to knock his head into Toothless’ snout. A disgruntled groan left the dragon at the contact.

“Sorry bud,” Hiccup began to say, cutting himself off as the grumbled scorn from Toothless. “What's got you so rowdy this morning?”

A gargling noise rang out from Toothless, flashing his gums before hopping off of Hiccup and his bed before jumping towards the hut’s door, large steps shaking the wooden beams the hut is balanced on. With the rustling from behind, Toothless looked back with a toothless smile to find Hiccup slowly awaking from bed, getting ready for the day on the Edge ahead of him.

“Alright bud, I’m on my way. Don’t worry,” Hiccup muttered with a yawn as he paced after the Nightfury. A steady hand landed on Toothless’ head, pushing him back a few paces so he could push open the door. The sun had started to rise by now, nearly set high enough to commence breakfast. Toothless raced forward, bumping Hiccup with his tail and causing him to stumble forward, a laugh rolling in his chest. “Perfect morning for a flight, isn’t it?”

Before Toothless could rumble a reply, Stormfly came barreling up, Astrid sat on her back as she stared worriedly at Hiccup. “Hiccup, there’s something you're going to want to see,” She announced upon her arrival, causing Hiccup to stumble out of his hut a couple of steps faster.

“What is it?” He hurriedly asked, resting a hand on Toothless’s head, ready to mount his back at any given second to follow after Astrid.

“I think it would be better if you took a look for yourself,” She called out, head flicking around to look down at the docks she and the other dragon riders had built when they first started working on building the Edge.

Hiccup didn’t have to be told twice.

Before Astrid could blink, Hiccup and Toothless were already in the air and flying towards her. His eyes hadn’t yet locked on where Astrid had come from, waiting for her guidance to lead him.

The two of them were in the air for only a few seconds, a quick glide down before their dragon’s claws were touching down on the wooden planks that made up their docks. That was when Hiccup was finally able to see what had Astrid so spooked.

In front of them was a fleet of half-destroyed ships.

Each ship had a number of scorch marks that plunged through the wooden decks, the sails that had the dragon hunter crest torn to shreds. Most of the ships also had discarded weapons and helmets, left behind by the hunters that had sailed on these ships. But something stuck out on one of the ships, the largest out of the lot. There was a variety of cuts and indents in the ship, looking to be placed there by a sword or some other kind of weapon, perhaps claw marks along with a few scales white as snow scattered around the destroyed ship.

“Astrid… what do you think could have done this?” Hiccup questioned, his head whirling around to face Astrid only to find the blonde girl staring hauntedly at the ship graveyard.

“More like who.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

"Ah, if it isn't my favourite customer from beyond the archipelago," A middle-aged man boasts as he sees a young woman walking up to his stall in the Northern Markets, his arms spread wide and a yellowing smile. His loud comments forced many heads to turn as Sindri was one of the best weapons traders within the isle, the man always having something to please any form of customer.

A dry chuckle escapes the girl as she steps up to the stall countertop, her boots digging into the muddy floor as she rests one of her gloved hands on the counter. "You should stop spoiling me with the praises Sindri," She says with a grin, her eyes briefly scanning over the items the man had on display for the day. “Your words might start to get to my head after all.”

"Maybe I'm just trying to make sure I get into Valhalla when my time comes," He says with a booming grin, leaving his prior task behind as he walks up to the girl. "I do after all need a Valkyrie to take me there. Your ego is free to inflate as much as you wish," He comments smugly, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl as he stops in front of her.

"Just because the name Valkyrie belongs to me it doesn't mean I will be flying you anywhere in the afterlife," She chides the man loosely. "And besides, you need to die in battle to be sent there. I don't think selling these weapons counts as so," She says amused at the slight drop in the man's shoulders.

"You might be right there," The man comments, an eyebrow being raised by the girl across from him in question at the might part. "So, what can I help you with today? It's been a while since your last visit to the Northern Markets," Sindri asks, both his hands leaning on the countertop as he waits for the girl across from him's request.

Valkyrie absently looks around the stall, staring at the many weapons discarded around the wooden crates and countertops. "Do you have any more of those Hideous Zippleback exploding boxes? The ones where the gas pours out of it until it gets lit," She asked, going into explanation since she knew that wasn't the name Sindri had given her when he first sold the items to her, and that exploding boxes could be quite vague.

"Of course, I have those in stock! I make them myself, remember?" He asks, grinning wildly as he bends down to reach for something hidden in a crate. Pulling out seven rectangular-like boxes, all made from vast metals and wood. He places them on the counter just in front of the girl’s hands. "Now, Valkyrie, these are the last ones I have in stock since you keep forgetting to bring the empty ones back to me." He says with a slight scold to his words.

"So there worth a pretty penny?" Valkyrie asks, staring up at Sindri slightly sheepish and with her shoulders bunching to her ears as she raises a brow in question, both palms facing up in front of her.

"Precisely," Sindri says with a sharp nod. "Now, I'm willing to trade them off for something, but if not, I'm going to need about two bags worth," He states, his face losing most of its joy as he goes into trader mode, making sure he gets the best deal for himself.

"Two bags?" Valkyrie questions with a huff of air, picking up one of the canisters loosely. When a hum of agreement leaves Sindri, Valkyrie places it down on the countertop rather harshly. "And here I thought I was your favourite customer," She says slightly dejected, pulling out a small pouch of coins from her waist. "How about this? I give you half of this, and the next time I sail in, I'll bring you two double-edged axes?" She offers, loosening the string that was keeping the pouch sealed and flashing Sindri a toothy smile.

Sindri's eyes narrowed at the girl, one of his fists balling as he study's her for a long moment. An air of silence dragged on between the two of them before he came to his final decision. "How do I know you’re not just going to fly off and never return?" He questions with a glower, an opening statement for something further.

A fake mortified gasp escapes Valkyrie's lips as she brings her hands up, resting them on her chest. "You wound me Sindri," She states, closing her eyes like she was crying. Bringing a hand up to wipe at a nonexistent tear, she says, "And here I thought we have built some trust up over the years."

The man across from her rolled his eyes with a huff before he shook his head with a grin stretching across his face. "I’d be in safer hands while wrestling with a Nightfury than putting any trust in you. But fine, I'll take you up on that deal," He mutters. His agreement got a crooked grin slipping onto Valkyrie's face as she raised her chin slightly in accomplishment. "But if you don't return in two moons, I'll be putting a bounty on your head."

The thing with Sindri is that he totally would, which only made Valkyrie grin more. "I'll be back in three then," She said, emptying half of her coin pouch onto the countertop as she pulled another brown bag from her waist. This time the bag was empty, and a lot bigger than the last as she started to load the Hideous Zippleback gas canisters into her bag.

Sindri only looked slightly amused at her words as he tested each of the coins, roughly gauging how much each of them weighed. Valkyrie attached the bag of items back to her hip as he did this, waiting until he had finished the task and put them into his own pouch. "Is there anything else you might need before you vanish without a trace again?" He questions.

"I think this is all I need for the moment," Valkyrie says, her eyes going distant as she racks her brain for any other possible items she could need for the next following days. She couldn't picture any dire situations arising where she would have to prepare for, everything already thought out in her own mind as they had repeated this process a number of times. The only reason she was buying the Zippleback gas was because she would be going in solo and she would be dealing with a larger number the usual.

Sindri gave her a sad nod. "I'll see you next time you decide to grace the aisle with your presence." He comments, lighting up with a grin before he is turning to a new customer—or maybe it was the person he abandoned to talk to Valkyrie.

Turning away from the stall, Valkyrie begins her way back through the trading village. She kept her head high as she began to weave through the different stalls, a steady eye on anyone who decided to get too close for her liking.

A certain thing that came with the Northern Markets is that there is a large number of dragon hunters always running around getting weapons fixed or buying new custom traps to help them capture dragons that they would later sell to a select few from this very island. It never mattered how much she attempted to avoid them when on the island so she gave up long ago, accepting the fact there was no getting around it.

So when a certain hunter clad in dragon hide started to approach her, there was nothing Valkyrie could do except hide her finds and ready herself for conflict.

Keeping her head held up, she planned to walk past the man, keeping her eyes from the mace hanging at his hip where his hand was starting to itch for. But as she passed a hand shot out, fingers enclosing tightly around her upper arm. Valkyrie was instantly on the defence, a hand shooting to her hip where a broken down sword lay wrapped around her waist. With a hiss, Valkyrie spoke, “Can I help you?”

“Do I recognise ya?” The man spoke, spit flying from his mouth.

“I would hope not,” Valkyrie started. “Now, if you would be so kind as to get your filthy hand off of me, I would be glad to let you leave with all your limbs intact.”

The two stood off, neither being the first to back down. As Valkyrie’s hand slid forward, fingers wrapping around the loose handle of her broken-down sword, another hand came shooting out and wrapping around her shoulder. “Why don’t we all take it easy for a second.”

Turning to see who had spoken, Valkyrie’s eyes landed on a tall boy with auburn hair and pale green eyes. He didn’t look directly at Valkyrie, his eyes instead focused on the hunter that she had previously been threatening.

“Mind your own business boy. This doesn’t concern you,” The hunter spoke with a sneer, attempting to pull Valkyrie closer towards him but when Valkyrie didn’t budge, the hold that the boy had on her keeping her grounded, he let go.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Of course, this is between you and this helpless lady,” The boy said, releasing Valkyrie as he raises both hands in an act of surrender.

Valkyrie’s head whipped around to face the nameless boy, eyes wide with her top lip curling up. “Helpless?” Her voice rose an octave, once again her hand shooting down to where the handle of her sword rested.

The boy flashed Valkyrie a sideways glance with an almost pleading look on his face before he turned back to the hunter. “It’s just, I didn’t want to see anything break out when it was so clear that she wouldn’t be walking away as steady as she came in.”

The hunter pondered the boy’s words, face slowly starting to light up. “Aren’t you the chivalrous type?” The man huffed out before turning away, casting one last fleeting glance at Valkyrie before flashing his teeth and blending into the crowd and fleeing from Valkyrie’s sight.

Valkyrie glared at the man even long after he vanished from her sight. Only when she was sure he was gone did she turn to the nameless boy, putting an end to his stuttering responses as one of Valkyrie’s hands slammed into his chest. “I could have handled that myself,” She scorned, going in for a second shove where the boy’s hands mixed with hers, trying to deter their path. “And come on, a helpless lady who can’t fight her own battles? You couldn’t come up with a slightly more justifying cause?”

“It’s the first thing I could think of,” Came the strangled response from the boy, his grip tight as he stopped Valkyrie from pulling her hands away where she would most likely go in for another hit. “I didn’t exactly think of a plan when I came over.”

“You clearly didn’t think much if you had the bright idea to come over here in the first place,” Valkyrie snapped, tugging her hands free in a quick pull, making the unknown boy stumble and fall towards Valkyrie.

Valkyrie quickly raised her arms, bracing herself as the boy collided with her. A soft grunt escaped her lips at the close proximity of the two of them. “Uh hi?”

Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed at the boy’s words, their eyes meeting through the gaps in her arms. “Bye,” Valkyrie said in return, shoving the boy back one last time before turning on her heel, not caring for the startled yelp that came from the boy as she walked away. She told herself as she left, ready to disappear from the island and the views of the world once more, “I don’t have time for this.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” The boy called out after Valkyrie and said girl found herself gritting her teeth at the sound of hurried footsteps running after her. As the nameless boy came to her side, falling into step with her as they walked through the markets, he said, “I’m Hiccup by the way.”

“And I didn’t ask for that knowledge nor do I care for it,” Valkyrie said, earning a soft chuckle from Hiccup in return.

“Normally when someone gives you their name, there's an unspoken rule that you are meant to give it to them in return,” Hiccup said, gesturing loosely with his hands out in front of him, quickly drawing Valkyrie’s eyes to them and the leather cuffs wrapped around his wrists. “And, I mean, I did kind of save you from a fight with a dragon hunter.”

“Something which I didn’t ask you to do,” Valkyrie stated. But at the sight of Hiccup's dejected face, one of his hands bounding up to scratch the back of his neck, Valkyrie find herself speaking without her conscious permission. Turning her head straight and keeping her eyes off the other boy she said, “But if you must know, my name is Valkyrie.”

“Like one of Odin’s warriors?” Hiccup quickly questioned, his face lighting up as he put two and two together.

“Yes, like Odion’s warriors,” Valkyrie muttered, shaking her head as she answered the common question aimed her way once she revealed her namesake.

“Did your parents know you would be just as fierce as a Valkyrie when choosing a name for you?” Hiccup asked another question, seeming to have several more lined up for her to answer.

“More like vicious,” Valkyrie commented. “And I think they trained it into me when I was younger. Had to look at the world as a proper Viking one way or another.”

HIccup’s thick brows furrowed but he chose not to say anything. “What brings you the Nothern Markets?” He tracked back, changing the topic quickly. Before Valkyrie could say anything, Hiccup's head swivelled to the side, something catching his attention from another stall. Valkyrie was about to use these few seconds of distraction to slip away when Hiccup's head came swirling back towards her, large green eyes staring at her expectedly.

“Originally, before I got ambushed by two Vikings?” Valkyrie questioned, hiding a smile at the sheepish look that flickered over Hiccup's face first before a stubborn fierceness took over his eyes. Valkyrie quickly cut him off before he could once again go into why he had to help. “I came here for the same reason anyone else would. To trade and gather.”

Hiccup slowly nodded his head, wringing his arms back and forth and preparing to say something before a loud bang caught both of their attention, two heads of blonde hair fleeing from the scene. “Oh Thor, not those two,” Hiccup mumbled, dragging a hand down his face before looking back to Valkyrie. “You wouldn't be willing to wait here for me, would you?”

“No promises,” Valkyrie shrugged.

“Yeah,” A soft sigh escaped Hiccup's lips. “I didn’t think so.”

Prev | Next

[drakestoes]

Battle to the death of every girl who believes drew starkey is theirs. Broadcast it like hunger games. That shit would make millions.

[paintedstories]

"issues"

⚠: Sid is an addict, cussing, mommy issues, I think that's all (please, if you ever need the help of advice or just to be listened to, contact me, I will never judge! I love you)

'you miss your friend, he changed... from the clean, porcelain skin and silky smooth hair, to a ragged man who looked rotten in every bit of his aspects...'

We are standing in a dark alley, looking at each other, he looked high...and he was. Why were still there? you fucking loved him too much.

you look at the destroyed man in front of you, half-naked covered in blood, with spiky hair that smelled weird, and a bloody face from a fight he caused... he felt happy when he was beaten.

He had severe Mommy issues. He was destroyed, yet still such a pretty human. You fully knew he wasn't a bad man... a bad boy, he was your boy.

you lean on the wall resting your head as you look up at the smoke flowing from his lips towards your face, pushed by the wind. you sigh as you shakily muster your words.

"I'm leaving" silence.

"good joke bubble-gum" he snorted, then stopped and looked at my serious face.

"oh..." he backed away slightly and continued.

"you've got bored of me innit?" he said with a scowl on his face as he spat blood on his right and threw the cigar.

"... I told you before... I wanted us two to live together! go to another country! go study! you promised... yet here we are, you all covered in blood...you've changed...and after all of this!" you gesture with your hands towards him up and down then to the dark alley we were standing in "Unfortunately, I still love you..."

your lips trembled, you did not want to cry...

"you chose those weird guys who just make you get hurt...." I pause "Over me..." you could not hold it anymore it drove you mad crazy, to see that beautiful smart, and kind boy turn this way

"You broke our promise, you started doing drugs, smoked even more than before, started cutting yourself again, you did not come to visit me, did not even let me know you're still alive for three fucking months!" he starred now with sadness and shock as if he got out of a dream and realized.

he stepped closer to you yet the smell of alcohol and more things made you want to gag and you backed away looking at him with pure sadness.

"I know I shouldn't... but I give you one last chance"

you saw his eyes lit up and that made you continue.

"Either you come with me right now, leave them behind" you gesture to the building as in his band "and you come with me. I will help you put yourself back on track... or you stay here like a fucking rat and never contact me... the only person who will ever love you this much, ever again." you finish with a stern face and tone.

you let him think as I saw a stray cat and went to pet it.

"I can't..." he said under his breath

as you sat up you saw him crying, you went up to him and put my hands on his face gently holding him. he shock his head as he looked at you like a lost boy... the lost boy you first met at that kindergarten.

You slightly smile "You can, I am her to help you, I will be by your side all my life, but only if you come with me" He fell to the ground as he started sobbing, and you crouched and let him bury his face in your chest as he cried and you held him, shit, this heroin made him sensitive, more sensitive than he was already.

"m-mom...?" he said as you held him, humming a song from our favourite childhood cartoon.

"no sweetie, It's me y/n" he then hugged you tighter and sobbed harder, dampening your white shirt.

"help me...please...fix me, I'm fucking broken, please" he sobbed, he was back.

you helped him stand, then went through your backpack to take out a jacket, always carried a spare one, taking it out you opened it and helped him slide his hands trough it, then zipped it up making him hiss as the jacket came in contact with his chest full of scars.

you hold your hand for him, you start walking as he keeps holding your hand and continues to softly cry.

"It's fine now, you're safe, everything will be fine," you tell him with a motherly tone as you walk to your apartment.

When you stepped into your apartment, then told him to go shower and use your shower gel. As he was in the shower hopefully washing himself, you made the bed, added more pillows and another blanket.

you were in the kitchen preparing tea, to relax him so he will be able to fall asleep, when you heard him coming out of the shower and calling your name,

"here, in the kitchen!" You say as his footsteps are heard, you hand him a cup of tea as you walk to bed.

"come, we have to sleep. tomorrow we will leave." You tell him as he sits down ad slowly drink his tea as his head is rested on your shoulder.

you've got your boy back...and you're never letting him go and get hurt.

hi!

im sorry for not being active...some things have been going on. I've been inspired by the series "Pistol" to make this small imagine.

as always, if you want to request, you can!

and as I said at the start, need someone to talk to? Im here!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Summer Days

Part Two of Stormy Years, Rainy Confessions

Summary: You spend the summer with Victor at his parents' manor.

Warnings: Canon divergent, fluff, comfort, more poetry, confessions and kissing (the kind Vic deserves)

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

“I’ve missed you,” you tell Victor as you enter his university apartment and collapse into his black reading chair.

“It’s been three days,” he points out.

“Yes, but I can only tolerate so much missing you before it feels like missing you is all I am.”

“Elizabeth Scott?” Victor guesses.

You sit up quickly and ask, “Marry me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Shaking your head at his rejection, you sit back and watch him move around his space. The way Victor moves keeps you entranced; he moves silently, softly, but with purpose, like a dangerous, stealthy animal stalking its prey. Although you have determined if you’re prey, you’re okay with being Victor’s.

“So…” You trail off, hoping Victor will say something that gives you hope about the survival of your young but special connection.

“I asked you before if you would come with me,” Victor says. “And I still want you to. I might even need it. Come back to the manor with me?”

“Manor?” you repeat softly. “Will you parents be there?”

“No one will. They’re on a book tour and the staff has the summer off.”

“I want to go with you more than anything. You deserve a summer with someone who cares about you, Vic.”

Victor nods before he returns to packing. He’s told you limited information about his childhood, his family, and how his parents and upbringing affected him. Between the Vales and the whispers of Lockland, you can’t imagine what Victor must deal with - the constant loneliness and uninvited judgement of his choices, hobbies, and actions.

“Imagine all the things we can do without people watching us,” you encourage. “Do you have a pool?”

“Two.”

“Then, yes, Mr. Vale, I will accompany you to the summer manor.”

Victor rolls his eyes at your dramatics, but deep inside of him, a weight lifts because he doesn’t have to be alone in that house again.

“Wow,” you repeat as you enter Victor’s childhood bedroom. “This house is amazing.”

“In beauty, maybe,” Victor admits. “Being completely alone in it eliminates some of the appeal.”

You lay your hand on Victor’s back and say, “You’re not alone now.”

Victor leads you out of the bedroom and into a library with a piano tucked into the corner.

“Do you play?” you ask, pointing to the piano as you look over the books.

“I used to,” Victor answers, watching you rather than looking at the house.

Returning to Victor’s side, you meet his eyes and smile. The air around you is quiet; there are no more whispers, no people evaluating your every move or word to determine why you’re so close to an alleged murderer. Between you and Victor, however, the air hums. Nothing but possibilities and the care you have for one another exists between you; all of the concerns from Lockland are gone. Your sole purpose is now to show Victor what it’s like to be loved. His parents never showed him love in this house, but now that he’s alone with you, you’ll show him what it is like to be appreciated and cared for. And, hopefully, he will give into his cravings and need for love, even if that doesn’t lead him to you.

As you walk down a curved staircase, you admire the details carved into the wooden railing and, more so, the elegance with which Victor rests his hand upon it and descends the stairs. It’s his space; you expected him to be at home and perhaps a bit more careless, but his effortless grace and beauty are as clear to you here as at Lockland. The way he moves, speaks, and exists is phosphorescent; it shines and beckons you closer without the same threat of burning you that once existed.

Victor has changed into some of the clothes from his time at home, and the expensive black button-down under his charcoal vest is evidence of the old money Victor was brought up in. The house, the clothes, and the expensive education Victor received are proof of his parents' success but also complement Victor’s true nature. He’s more beautiful than anyone will ever know. You’re determined to get close enough to help him see that for himself, but there are parts of him that he’s buried so far down he has probably forgotten about them. Every time you fall deeper in love with him, you see a new part of him, and you want to remind him of that and show them that they can be loved, embraced, and brought out of hiding.

The first night in Vale Manor, you sit at the small table in the kitchen with Victor as the dinner you’re making together cooks on the stove.

“I feel like I should whisper,” you murmur. “Like there’s a party or something in the other room that we’ll disturb.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve eaten in the dining room out there,” Victor tells you.

“Should we?”

Victor looks around the small kitchen. It’s for the staff, but it’s quaint, cozy, private, and relatively perfect.

“No,” he answers. “Let’s stay here.”

“Does the quiet bother you?” you ask carefully, pulling Victor’s fingers out of a fist to trace his palm.

“It used to. At some point I realized I had to accept it, I guess. Then everything else seemed too loud.”

“That’s why you kept telling me to be quiet and leave you alone when we first met?”

“I didn’t use those words,” Victor defends.

“Should I apologize for ruining your memories of this house? Because pretty soon you’ll only remember me here,” you joke.

Victor remains serious, though, as he says, “No. As the summer goes on and I think more of you…” He brushes his fingers over your cheek and finishes, “Some places need new memories. And some people are worth making them.”

You smile against Victor’s hand and ask, “Can I recite one poem? It’ll hold me over for the whole summer.” Victor sighs, and you whisper, “Hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you.”

Victor moves his fingers from your cheek to place his palm on your neck, but before he leans in, the timer on the stove chimes, and you’re pulled from the moment you were in. Not wholly, you both notice, as the reality that you’re both so different than when you first met settles around you. Victor has certainly never been the man he is in this house before.

You wake up one day in the middle of June to a heavy weight on your chest. Victor’s arm is tossed over your waist despite the uncomfortable position you fell asleep on nestled against the back of the settee. Yet it has nothing to do with the feeling against your heart.

I love you, you mouth as you roll over to face Victor.

Alone with Victor, it’s easier to decide what your feelings are. Without Lockland’s gothic country club walls silencing the voice inside you or drowning it out with the yells and opinions of others, you can realize and admit that you’ve fallen for Victor.

As the sun sets on a warm June evening, you sit beside Victor, your back to the piano and your arm pressed to his. While he plays, you watch him. When you first noticed Victor, the first night in the library when you got your first taste of how addictive his presence is, you never anticipated how it would feel or that you would even get to opportunity to see him like this. Victor has walls that he built high and thick in the very house you’re spending the summer in. Each fleeting moment of this summer carves a larger hole in his walls, and everything that you see inside simultaneously breaks your heart and fills you with a sensation you’ve never experienced before.

“I learned Fur Elise for my tenth birthday party,” Victor tells you as the final note fades into the room. “No one came, and my parents were on the phone with their editor the whole time, so I played it over and over, thinking that at least I got myself something.”

“Why don’t you play anymore?” you ask, shifting to pull one leg onto the bench so you can face Victor. “There’s plenty of pianos on campus.”

“Right,” Victor agrees sarcastically. “I’m not Brent Staples, I’m not the guy who can play a pretty tune and make everyone forget that they think I’m a killer.”

“If it wasn’t for everyone else ten years ago, who says it has to be now? If you love it, you shouldn’t leave it behind.”

Victor’s eyes meet yours, and, like the piano, you see another part of him you’re not sure anyone else knows is there. He misses them, the parts of himself he gave up in his effort to be loved and noticed. His grip on those same pieces is loosening, and the broken boy behind them is being revealed to you one summer night at a time.

You raise your hand to hold Victor’s cheek, resting your forehead against his. He softens beneath you before his fingers move across the piano keys again. It was a silent promise to stay with him, no matter how many scars he shows you, but one you intend to keep for as long as he will allow you.

By the beginning of July, Victor is different. He welcomes your touches and melts beneath your touch without hesitation and initiates physical contact for himself. Every time you see him, the words to express what you feel disappear as he does something else that makes you fall deeper into love with him. The solace of his family’s manor is exactly what you need to understand Victor Vale is everything you have ever needed and so much more. But when he shows you another layer of who he is, another hidden talent, or puts his hand over yours as he teaches you to play chess on a set older than both of you, worn from an entire childhood of Victor learning to be as content as he could in his own solitude, you feel a strengthened urge to kiss every one of his scars and show him that you will never leave him.

“Here,” Victor offers, drawing you from your admiration of him. “I thought you’d like this.”

You smile and accept the pristine poetry book. There’s a soft summer rain falling outside, so without access to the pool or the balcony where you and Victor have spent much of your time, you’ve settled in one of the studies tucked away into a corner of the manor.

“Is this yours?” you ask, leafing through the annotated pages.

“There’s only so much you can do before you have to resort to extreme measures,” he explains as he sits on the opposite end of the settee.

You notice that he’s brought a tray with a kettle, two mugs, and several snacks you’ve expressed a love of. The little things that he does make staying quiet in moments like this so much harder.

“Victor,” you murmur, skimming a letter by Virginia Woolf, “This is beautiful. Your words, I mean.”

Victor shrugs, not caring that his skin brushes against yours as he leans forward to prepare your drink. At Lockland, there was always this unspoken physical distance between you, a buffer to preserve what little bit of good reputation you had left. Your words and your touch have softened Victor, and made him feel like home can be more than an idea in fiction or children’s tales.

“Whenever I read, I think about you, Vic,” you admit. “Not that I stop very often, but if I’d known you had such an eye for symbolism and literary beauty, I would have asked for your insights sooner.”

With your eyes on the pages before you, you don’t notice how Victor watches you. When he finally says your name to answer one of your questions about the colors used in a Shakespearean sonnet form poem, you hear the difference you’d been so thrilled to see. Victor’s voice has always held a certain grace, a flow, and beauty that makes listening to him as intense and riveting as listening to a live orchestra performing at their best, even though you’re the only person in the audience. The way his voice wraps around your name, however, and the tenderness with which he addresses you, is soft, meaningful, and makes it sound like more than just a name. His tone - not unlike the poetic, pleading tone of a mortal man begging a goddess to save him from the peril of his own making - draws you in. You don’t want to hear anyone other than Victor utter your name ever again, and you want to listen to it forever.

“The sun’s going down,” Victor points out.

You look over your shoulder quickly and see a pastel sunset shining through the thinning rain clouds as you nod.

“Come with me,” he invites, standing and offering his hand.

Placing your hand in Victor’s, it’s easy to follow him. You’d follow him back to Lockland, to Merit, to the ends of the earth, without question. He doesn’t ask that of you; rather, he takes you down a servant’s staircase and into an oak-paneled bedroom with a wall of windows facing West. The rain-tinted sunset draws your attention, but Victor’s hand remains in yours as you walk to the window.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, unaware that Victor hasn’t looked out the window once, too interested in your reaction to the view.

“Dusk is falling,” Victor murmurs. You turn toward him and smile, but your smile falls when you see his face. He looks intense, focused, and unsure of what he’s about to say. It’s not his usual confidence, but an emotion glints deep in his eyes, a guarantee that he believes it, even if you refuse to, that makes you remain quiet and tighten your grip on his hand. “Dusk is falling, I love you.”

“Vic,” you reply softly, moving your free hand to cup his jaw. After taking a deep breath, you ask, “Do you remember all the people at Lockland who were so sure about us? The whispers that you believed, even if you didn’t notice, that me being close to you would ruin me?”

Victor nods once, stiff as he prepares to step back.

“I decided - not because of them, but because I wanted to – that I would be with you, that I would be yours. Until I am, I am incomplete. And the idea of losing you kills me. Vic, it keeps me awake at night because I need you. I have been without you my entire life, but I can’t even remember it. All I see, all I want to see, is you. I love you, Victor.”

Victor’s shoulders drop, and he releases your hand with one fluid flick of his wrist. You furrow your brows, but before you can ask what happened, what you said wrong, Victor pulls you against him. When you met him in the library, your surroundings faded. When Victor kisses you now, nothing exists except you and the love between you. The rain silences, the wood around you becomes a distant memory, and when you slide your hands against Victor’s chest, his heartbeat thudding against you enraptures you wholly. Nothing else matters; you are Victor’s, so you are complete.

“What will they think now?” Victor asks as you separate.

You smile at him and pull him closer to whisper, “Who cares?”

[s1ater]

god, forgive me.

part three of n/a.

ricky rocks. i always forget to update this story even though it's my favorite plot tbh

kathaholics 🦵

finn guess who we just fucking found

sab god himself?

josh we were a little more luckier than that

enya luckier than god?

enya can't wait to hear this

josh the bitch who lit stacy on fire

finn she's coming to smoke with us

sab oh great, another deadbeat to add to our group

josh how could you say that, chicago is a national treasure

josh she did what no one else could do

sab josh, she basically committed arson

finn no, we weren't lucky enough for that

finn more like, third degree burns

josh arson would be like if stacy had just completely disintegrated

josh which sadly did not even come close to happening

"these two jackasses would get themselves expelled if they ever talk like this in public."

"what do you mean?" enya snorts, "they talk like this all the time in public. neither of them have a filtered thought to save them."

louis watches the continuation string of messages between finn and josh dogging on stacy golifolk feed through his screen within their groupchat to no end. he lied in the back of their rec room on an old dusty chair while sabrina and enya continued to discuss how stupid their two friends were.

"louis, you ready to go soon?"

louis perked his head up to sabrina's inquiry, finding both of them looking at him now.

"what?"

"the graveyard," she nodded, "ditching school... remember?"

louis dips his head back as if suddenly being hit with recollection, “oh yeah, uh… no.”

“no?” sabrina is on her knees know, hanging off the back of the couch as she looks at him in surprisal.

“yeah, you seemed to have heard me correctly.”

“okay, no need to be rude about it, blockhead,” enya barges in, looking widely distasteful to his disinterest. “you’re the one who wanted to go.”

“and now i don’t.”

enya rolls her eyes before mumbling, “fucking cunt,” then turning back around to sit normally on the orange couch both her and sab were on. sab still watched him, more with confusion than annoyance that enya was hunkering.

“what’s up with you?”

kathaholics 🦵

josh yo, wtm

josh i got my bag and we already hopped the fence, so the rest of you fuckers better be on the way

sab looks up from her phone as he still scanned josh's messages, “so, you going or not?”

louis feels a strain of annoyance in his chest and a flash of heat flare upon his face; anger. for some reason, he felt a large amount of annoyance and irritation with sabrina still talking to him even after his rejection. he felt this a lot lately, and not just with sabrina, but right now she was putting the cherry on top of increasing his bad mood.

“fuck off, sabrina.”

**

“do you fuckers have no sense of time?”

“relax fuck face, you act like your mental watch is so good.”

“when weed’s involved, it’s immaculate.”

enya gave a hefty sigh before swinging her bag onto her designated seat. she then looked up, analyzing the three sets of red eyes before her, she smirks, “well, well, well, if it isn’t the woman of the hour.”

“my fellow candle stick holder.”

sabrina rolls her eyes as you and enya lean toward one another to shake hands, and you’re just beaming with a thin pressed smile of amusement. she couldn’t believe this was happening.

“ladies, take a seat. you know where you belong,” josh extends his arms out to the dusty old cushions that filled the area across from him

the graveyard was an old abandoned boys school from the 1950s that was never tore down, but rather left for catholic delinquents to discover and deem as there smoke spot. the five of them currently sat in a rusty old school bus that was cleared of most its seats and replaced with scruffy old couch cushions, bean bags, and really anything to provide comfort.

you were beyond amazed at the craftsmanship when your two new friends pulled you into what was the perfect smoke spot. your urge to spark up had increased immediately upon the sight, cutting your tour short and landing all three of you on the couch shoved all the way to the back.

“aye, where is louis at?”

“his cunt ass decided he didn’t want to come,” the sour tone of enya's voice suddenly covered every part of the bus, making everyone look up to her.

you were quick to catch onto the look josh and finn share over you despite being in your high state. her tone was very sobering and somehow you felt ten times more aware of everything all because of her clear distaste for this louis boy.

“fuck, why is that?”

“fuck if i know, louis has a fuckin’ stick up his ass lately.”

“isn’t that right.”

“sorry, who are we talking about?” your face screws up while you pass on the blunt you had to finn, looking between each of them subtly.

“louis partridge,” finn inhales “brown hair, brown eyes, and apparently a recent stick inputted into his ass.”

“such a clear decipher, almost like you didn’t just describe every walking fuck in our school,” enya rolls her eyes at finn and the vague features he offered, then looking to you. "he's the same year as us, was going to be top boy."

her provided information wasn't anymore of a help either.

"what?" however, a burst of energy seized through the group upon the relevance of it.

"lou was going to be top boy?" sabrina's posture was pulled straight as the rest of them, looking for clarification from enya--all she does is shrug.

"no wonder louis has been such a prick lately. he has to start fulfilling the roll," finn chuckles to himself, slowly starting to slouch back down. "too good for us."

"hey, whatever man, good for him," josh lightly taps finn, "maybe we'll finally get coed bathrooms and cig breaks like we've been petitioning for since first year sense we know someone on the board now."

"you guys are disgusting," enya rolls her eyes.

"what, you think they won't go for the dart breaks between class?"

you think enya's eyes are about to fall out of her head by the amount of eye rolls she's had in the past five minutes. you suppress your snicker as she looks at them with a dead stare.

"yeah, good luck with that one," she readjusts herself. "louis doesn't seem to give a damn about us, let alone your first year petitions."

"cmon, en, it was just one thing. he was only pissy because of coming down off of whatever josh gave him this morning," sabrina's voice lightens in defense of him, pushing enya further in annoyance.

"it wasn't just one thing. he's been a dick for the past couple of months. you can't tell me he hasn't when we're the ones who always have to deal with it because these two dimwits are too high half the time to even speak," her pointer finger jabs in your general direction in reference to both finn and josh who seemed shocked to her accusation. "tell me you didn't forget just because you've known him for so long."

there are hints of more spite that intertwined within the sentence, and you wonder why.

"well, I have known him for a long time."

"we all have, sab, but I don't forget his bitch fits because of it."

"oh, cmon, enya, don't you think you're being kinda harsh?" josh motions mindlessly with the hand that isn't propped behind his head. "you're just still pressed about him throwing out your booze stash."

"yeah, and you would be too if it was your pot."

"yeah, well at least I'm smart enough to not bring it around him when he's asked you not to," he takes a hit, his nonchalantness pissing her off. "plus, you're the one who put it in his room."

"suck me off," she grumbles, finally throwing herself into the cushions as if finally giving up. "he shouldn't be friends with alcoholics when he doesn't want to become one himself."

silence, but you still wonder;

"who's louis again?"

@aliyahsutherland @ioveisabel @multifandom-obsessed @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @cc13723things @heyitsmeimdead @thehuntress09 @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @instabull @rudypankowisdaddy @lukewearingbeanies @kiramdd @kitkat-mini @spencybear @w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @whoreforpsychopaths @mxsmwndr @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @xivilivix @morganaah @eichenhouseproperty @alliechickens @moonlighy @ancientimes @thelaststraw3 @i44nishi @iluvt4ylorswift @liltimmyst @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @esposadomd

[ksiondzkanexkiii]

I'll never leave you again | Angor Rot

Previous chapter (Prologue)

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CHAPTER ONE

- Angor - The trolless called out as she entered the cave she and her husband inhabited. Their previous cave had been raided by Gunmar's evil forces and the whole village had to flee and wander to find a new place to live. Away from the wars so that the children could grow up in peace, so that the parents did not have to worry about whether their children would return home, or whether the older trolls would be thrown out of the house and beaten to death by Gummies who were looking for a moment's fun.

The woman's voice was strained and the slight breaking of her voice was audible to her husband. Nothing could be hidden from him he knew her too well however he did not avert his golden eyes from the preparations for the expedition - This is a bad idea - She interjected again the blue troll looked worriedly at her beloved sensing that his plan would not work out. She had always believed in her husband but now she doubted his idea undermining his authority as leader of the fallen village of Rot, some of the village managed to escape but some were not so lucky

Those who managed to escape followed the marriage worried, the little trolls cried and the mothers tried to soothe them the men tried to soothe the stressed women. However, the way towards the safe haven was long and hard and for this reason some trolls died on the way from exhaustion their loved ones were also tired, but they stubbornly went on - This is a very bad idea Angora - The woman pleaded the further her husband did not pay attention to her

Finally long light blue claws touched her husband's stony grey skin wrapping her hands around his biceps - Please listen to me - The woman almost begged him to listen to him walker for a moment, she did not trust the sorceress she wants to go to Rot.

- I cannot defend the village of Anoana - He finally spoke up seeing her beautiful green eyes in full view, she was not now wearing her familiar headband which has a tassel on the front covering her eyes and the back of her nose however the distinctive two black claws painted from the eye to the corner of her mouth were on her cheeks - This will help me gain more strength - He confessed facing his wife

Her eyes expressed great worry and concern at the same time exhaustion caused by the trek that had stopped two days ago. They were three days ahead of Gunmar's army, but nobody knew when they would find them again and kill everyone Angor did not want to let this happen again, he had to protect the people at all costs.

He could even give up his birthstone, his soul to protect his village, his people. He could give his life for the Anoana he loved in all worlds.

The light blue troll's lips parted slightly as she raised her hand to touch her husband's cheek, who almost immediately snuggled into her palm squinting and a quiet cat-like murmur issued from his throat - How am I supposed to defend my village when I can't even protect you? - He whispered opening his eyes to encounter cuts and bruises on her body most of the wounds were on her hands and arms, when those in need were helped to get up and walk on. She had a cut on her cheek from Gumm Gumm who attacked her when she tried to help a small troll escape from the village.

He let her out of his sight for a moment and when he heard her shrill scream he froze almost immediately, when he saw Gunmar's servant standing over her and aiming his sword at her wanting to kill her in one blow or inflict as much pain as he could before she would die, he raised his stone hand and ran his finger under the cut being careful not to inflict pain on her. He was worried too, but he did what he thought was right

- The expedition won't take more than two days, we'll still have a day's head start on Gunmar before he finds us - He whispered and his eyes jumped from the cuts on her body to her green eyes

She clenched her jaw tighter looking at him almost appraisingly - Why don't you let me swim with you? - She whispered, coming closer to him - Let me help you - she whispered even more quietly than before raising her other hand to take both stone hands on his cheeks she had to stand on tiptoe to reach, Anoana and Angor were similar in stature they were almost humanoid, their bodies were similar to human bodies more than other trolls they were tall and slim but Rot was taller than his wife.

She barely reached his shoulder however this did not stop them from indulging in affection every day, Anoana gently tilted her head to get a better look at him from a different angle, she wanted to know the answer to her question. She could see Angor's thoughts churning as he thought of an answer that would satisfy her, he sighed heavily through his nose - It's dangerous you know that - He whispered, the woman's hands clasped tighter on his cheeks, he knew she did not accept his words at that moment - Someone must take care of the serfs while I am away - he added after a while hoping that his wife would loosen the grip on his cheeks

- In that case, don't go," she persisted, not wanting to let him go, sensing that something bad would happen. She would be angry with herself if something happened to him she could even say that she would never forgive herself for not being beside him when he gets hurt and vice versa - Stay. Angora please - Anoana still begged him hoping that he would change her husband's mind but she knew him too well and for too long she knew that he was stubborn and wanted to do well, but the black nightmare was standing over her trying to warn her of the danger that was just waiting for her attention Angora

- It will be alright, love - he whispered lifting her chin gently to press his nose to her forehead - Before you know it I will be back with magic and we can live without fear of Gunmar finding us and killing us - he whispered into her forehead, she closed her eyes feeling his nose pressed against her forehead before she had time to respond or enjoy the touch that was meant to reassure her he moved away tucking the last things into the pouch in his belt.

- If I do not return in two days, find a market and stay there with our people - whispered Angor standing at the exit, he was worried about his wife, he could not imagine how she was worried about him but he would not like his nightmare to come true, if Gunmar attacked again he would not have enough strength to fight back. He would not want his wife to die in agony as well as his subjects, he was worried about everyone - It is safe in the market place, please go there with our subjects - he added after a while

- As soon as you are in the market place I will be waiting for us there - He confessed without giving her room for argument or any other words she looked at the ground when he said this without being brave enough to look at her worried green eyes. When he finally got the courage to look at her one last time she said nothing just watched him walk away.

As he looked ahead, as he walked through the middle of the temporary encampment his people had set up he could feel their gaze on him as they looked at him in awe of his courage and sacrifice, no one else would ever dare to look for Morgana. No one would ever dare to ask Morgane for the power she possessed.

As Angor passed through the camp every Troll when they saw the leader bowed gently but this time everyone knelt on one knee lowering their heads low in homage to him and silently conveying their gratitude that he was trying to help them even at the risk of his own life. Even if his wife does not like it and is forced to watch the stature of her beloved disappear somewhere over the horizon.

- I didn't believe you would let him go - A voice beside Anoana spoke up and footsteps approaching her made her realise that her best friend stood beside her as she stared dully at the horizon behind which Angor had disappeared, she didn't even know when the sun was slowly setting - How are you feeling? - Asked quietly Idun gently stroking her friend's shoulder looking with worried eyes as Anoana started to look around realising that she had been standing in one position for hours and was still looking at the path that Angor had followed

- Hopeless - Anoana wheezed, turning her head towards Idun she was young she had dark purple skin and her long black hair was tied in a high step that filled the space between her horns which curled at the ends in spirals. Idun stood out from the other girls, she wore dresses that had cuts on her thighs and on her shoulders she constantly wore a belt in which she had various vials of healing potions and poisons pinned. The time of war has caused the young troll to carry vials with her every time she will be able to defend herself however they are usually hidden in a pouch clipped to her belt. On her back was often a bow, which now lay safely in her temporary shelter but still close enough to the weapon to reach for it as quickly as possible during an attack.

Indun had violet eyes of exceptional beauty, however, she was personally ashamed of them, as it was rare for a troll to be born with violet eyes - I don't know how to feel - Mumbled the older woman after a while, Anoana was older than Indun by at least a hundred years but the two women were friends and were inseparable sometimes Angor claimed that Anoana adopted Indun, as the younger troll was more willing to be in the company of his wife than his own parents.

This made Angor feel jealous at times, however, he would not admit to wanting his wife's attention so much and not wanting to share it. It's not that he didn't like Indun hell he liked this kid he taught her how to hunt and cook good food optionally weaving in teachings on how to be a good leader and how to be a good troll. Anoana and Angor acted as parents in Indun's life without even knowing it the young troll suffered when they weren't there, the purple troll's parents weren't the best or the worst she herself didn't know at what level to define them as they didn't give her the attention the young troll needed

They were not interested in what she was doing all day long

They were not interested in what new things she learned from the village chief

Her parents lived their own lives and all she could do was feel like a fifth wheel but Angor and Anoana effectively made her find the light in her life again and every day she stood with new hope that Angor taught her something new and maybe Anoana would take her with her to look for ingredients for potions or they would learn new spells together.

- Do you think she will get what she wants? - asked Indun quietly, worrying about the older troll as much as Anoana who looked again at the horizon of trees behind which Angor had disappeared. The trolls had a problem with sunlight because as soon as the sun's rays fell on their stony skin it painfully burned their skin turning them into real stone taking away the colour of life that had previously shone in their eyes, which would later turn into grey and emotionless stone - Is Morgana even alive? Does she exist? - asked the younger troll, stopping from foot to foot

- They say that Morgana fell into the ocean because of King Arthur, there is no chance that she will survive - muttered Indun, looking at the trees, in whose shade they would hide to protect themselves from the world and the sunlight. Anoana shook her head - Don't believe these rumours sun - confessed quietly Anoana turning her body towards the younger troll putting her hand on her shoulder for Indun to turn towards her - You see, before Gunmar attacked our village we fished a man out of the sea - recalled the older woman correcting the belt that was wrapped around the younger troll's shoulder - We said a prayer for the man to survive and the goddesses of this world would make her still alive –

- Did they succeed? Did they bring her back to life? - Indun interjected by tilting her head tightly clenching her jaw. Anoana merely smiled and shook her head

- 'It was the decision of the goddesses we have not been able to see if they restored the soul of the woman from the sea,' Anoana confessed quietly, she lifted her hand from the younger troll's shoulder and embraced her cheek stroking the stony skin beneath her eye - 'But we believe that the woman found renewed peace in the world of the living or perhaps she only now knew peace in the world of the dead,' whispered the older troll, she leaned over to press her forehead against the younger troll's forehead - 'And you believe it,' she whispered closing her eyes

Indun looked for a moment at Anoana who presses her blue forehead against hers, the younger troll followed Anoana's lead and also closed her eyes - Of course - whispered the younger troll, after a few seconds they moved away from each other - So now you are in a leadership role? - asked the teenage troll curiously - You mean I can be your right hand? - Indun raised an eyebrow and Anoana dryly giggled while shaking her head

- 'You're too young to be my right hand,' the older trolless giggled as she headed towards the other subordinates Indun took one last look towards the forest sighing heavily at Angor's departure from the village, the young troll hoped that Rot would find what he needed and that the legend of Morgana would not be a mere fairy tale to keep the spirit of the children to believe that there was still magic. The young troll turned on its heel and with long and quick steps tried to catch up with Anoane without having to run up but failed.

- So what is the plan? - asked Indun as she followed the older woman, looking under her feet to avoid falling over tree roots

Anoana only sighed heavily - He instructed us to go to the market place - she confessed quietly - That is reasonable. He said that by the time we get there, he will be waiting for us there - with that the time leader muttered - It makes sense, it will take us two days to get to the market and he will have time to get the magic from Morgana and come back - Anoana shrugged her shoulders wanting to believe what he was saying but stress and uncertainty coursed through her veins as she thought about it more intensely

Indun followed Anoana seeing her shoulders tense and her back as she artificially straightened up pretending to be calm and everything was going according to plan however Indun knew that Angor's wife was worried about him and the expedition he had not taken her on with him. The younger troll watched as the blue trolless moved by the villagers ordering them to get ready to go to the market again, Indun only watched as Anoana began to rule this temporarily over the people of the fallen village of Rot.

The younger troll swallowed hard and went off on her own to pack up her belongings left over from Gunmar's raid on the village of Rot, it is not that Indun did not want to comfort Anoana or see that the older troll needed it, but she began to think that her words would be unnecessary and Anoana would not accept help anyway to calm her thoughts and satisfy the storm that was coursing through her veins.

[bookishpedia]

Aiden: When do we fight my demons?

Therapist: We do that by talking?

Aiden: Oh.

Therapist: Is that why you don't have a shirt on?

Elsa: It's his first time.

[wetsoggybeans69]

Cowboy Bebop Characters X Reader Headcanons

(How affectionate they would be)

Spike Speigle

Affection isn't his favorite form of showing love. He usually likes to spend time with you even if you both are doing different things, as long as yall are in the same room, he is satisfied. Although, if you are super affectionate, he won't mind it at all. He will tease you a little but finds it cute.

NSFW

Handsy, strangely loves exploring your body and admiring it. He will beg you to stay and cuddle with him after.

Jet Black

Also, isn't that affectionate; I do have a feeling he would act very gentlemanly like. for example, he would hold your hand whenever walking you home. Again, he doesn't mind if you are affectionate.

NSFW

He isn't handsy, but he does like your touch. It is very soothing to him he will be pretty gentle and slow with you as well.

Faye Valentine

Affection isn't her first way of showing love. She would probably prefer a gift. I do think at first she might be a little surprised. However, she will get used to it after a while. Faye will expect it from you. I could see her getting sassy after if she didn't get enough from you.

NSFW

Faye will be the most affectionate during sex. She would like to run her hands through your hair and trace circles on your back. The odd and genuine affection for the situation would be relaxing.

Julia

Strangely, I think she would enjoy affection. She'll probably give simple and soft forms of it. She isn't super affectionate, but she would give gentle touches. Maybe a kiss on your cheek now and then, or hold onto your arm. She'll even mess with your hair if you put your head in her lap.

NSFW

Again, it's a very soft touch, but it'll be a lot more affectionate and very passionate. Although she can be rougher if you want her to be.

Vicious

At first, he will be confused and shocked when you do touch him. He rarely gets touched when he does. It's when he gets stabbed. I think he would feel threatened in the beginning. He might not feel like he deserves it as well. (Bitch got trauma). WITH ALL THAT SAID! I am begging you, please, give this man affection! He's so fucking touched starved and needs affection desperately. He will act like it doesn't affect him. But, if he is in love with you, and you touch him, I swear to god he will fucking melt in your arms. (If he isn't in love with you, he will shove you out of the way) Vicious would be afraid to do PDA, but if he feels jealous, he will have his hand somewhere on you.

NSFW

Try to tease him and see what happens. (Spoiler you wont walk for 3 years) It's not a very good idea when it comes to this man, Vicious can be very handsy, he's similar to Spike in that way, but it differs when it comes to the reason why. He is doing it to be possessive. Spike is doing it to just feel your body against his (you dont have a problem with that either).