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sirenascales · 3 years

Note

Hiya! I should definitely start this by saying that I love, LOVE your works ahh. <33 I’m so glad you opened the anon bc I’m shy af when it comes to requesting🥺

I don’t know if you write for him but if you do, I’d like to request a fully NSFW dom!Kunikida x fem!Reader fic with the prompts “You want me to give you your notebook back? You’ll have to make me.” coming from the reader and “You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll.” from Kunikida, I thought it could be fun 😈👀 dominant Kunikida who angry-fucks makes me go weak at the knees

You can include any kinks you want, I’m OK with anything, I’m even more OK with choking and degrading kinks so yeah😇

Thank you so much if you ever decide to write it, if you’re uncomfortable feel free to ignore <3

note: so... this turned out... a bit different? lmfao im sorry, i hope this is still okay. I really just couldn't make him super aggressive or like super kinky? I really don't see him being like that... definitely a bit soft dom-y but thats about it 😩 still, i liked how this turned out and i hope you do too!

warnings: nsfw, smut, smallest bit of angst,

-> Taking Kunikida's notebook hostage. 18+

You could tell by the twitch in Kunikida's eye that he was livid. Beyond pissed off. He was already four minutes behind for his commute to work, yet he couldn't leave. Why? You were basically holding his precious notebook hostage, holding it tightly to your chest as you stared at him defiantly.

Kunikida took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt to calm himself. "Please, give me my notebook."

"No."

His teeth clenched. "Give me my notebook."

"You want me to give you your notebook back? You’ll have to make me," were the words you spoke next, your lips curling up when Kunikida's face goes completely blank, his green eyes just boring into you.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," his tone is even, though still with the bit of edge that had a chill going up your spine. "Please, give me the notebook. I am already late for work."

That struck a very deep nerve inside of you, your chest blooming with anger as you snarled at him. "Work, work, work! It's all about your fucking job! Well, you're not getting your notebook back, so suck it!"

As you turned on your heel and stormed away from Kunikida, he watched you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly opened as he is hit with a suddenly realization. He saw the hurt which flashed in your eyes before you walked away, and that made him surge forward to follow you, right into your bedroom.

He knew exactly what you were doing by acting like a brat and talking back to him. You were purposely trying to instigate a reaction from him, to make him act, and he was more than inclined to do so.

"What are you still doing here?" you asked, a bite to your voice as you glared at him. Kunikida closed the bedroom door and you watched as he slipped his glasses off his face, setting them down carefully on their rightful place on the nightstand. "Don't you have a job to do? I'm sure Dazai is waiting."

Kunikida is silent as you continued to huff and puff, keeping his eye on his notebook still held against your chest. He slipped off his vest, hanging it on its hanger and putting it away. He he started to looses up the red ribbon around his collar and you just furrowed your eyebrows at him, taking a few steps back as he finally approached you.

"You- What are you-" His large hand is then suddenly clamping over your mouth, successfully shutting you up as he leaned down to stare straight into your wide eyes.

"You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll."

Another chill goes down your spine, your grip on the notebook finally loosening up and it begins to fall. Kunikida skillfully catches it, quickly holding it up high as you suddenly leap forward in an attempt to grab it.

"No! Give it back!" you yelled almost desperately, and the look that Kunikida fixes you with makes you freeze in place.

"You are in no position to make orders here, doll," he says to you, setting down his notebook on the dresser before turning back to you. "You wanted my attention, right? Now you got it. Take off your clothes and get on the bed."

You couldn't contain your glee, a huge megawatt smile growing on your face as you did as told. You couldn't ever defy him, not when he was like this. It made your heart race, skin tingling with anticipation.

It felt so good to finally feel Kunikida's warm skin on yours, to feel his strong hands hold you, claim you, as his. He wasn't rough with you, no, but as always, you were pliant under him. Always so reactive to his touch, his fingers expertly pinching your nipples, making you moan deeply against his lips as he kisses you deeply.

You missed him so much.

You clung onto him tightly, taking his kisses in earnest, and soon his cock as he finally, finally pushes himself inside of you, moaning deeply together with you.

"Shit," he curses while you whine, your head tilted back against the pillow as he slowly started thrusting in and out of you. He took your hands from his shoulders, his fingers lacing with yours as he held them down against the bed. As he continued to slap his hips against yours, fucking you hard and deep like you deserve, the sun shining from the window reflected off the rings you each had on your respective ring fingers.

"D-Doppo..." you moaned his name deeply, whimpering which each thrust he made into your heat, the pleasure he never fails to bring you making your mind go hazy. All you could feel was him, after what seemed to be so long.

You've been so lonely, your husband so caught up with work. He would come home late, and too tired to do much with you. You will always love him for how dedicated he is but... you were a priority too. You had to do something to finally have his attention back on you. What better way was there than to take his notebook? It obviously worked.

He was holding you so close to him, making love to you, his wife. It's what you deserved, and he knew that, and he knew that he has been neglecting you, taking your love for granted. It was shameful of him, really, but he planned to make it up to you.

But first...

"Come on," he grunted, sitting upright before he pulled you up, making you straddle his lap. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, his hands finding purchase on your hips as you started to ride him. You matched your thrusts with his, tossing your head back when he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. "Come on, need you to cum..."

"I love you," you cried out, looking at him with blown out, teary eyes, your lips swollen and plump. Kunikida couldn't resist kissing you again.

It didn't take much longer for your orgasm to finally wash over your body, your mouth wide open in a silent scream as your body tensed up, toes curling and your mind going blank for a second. Kunikida continued to fuck you through your orgasm, soon coming to his own release. He didn't think twice before cumming deep inside of you, his face pressed against your chest as he cursed and grunted repeatedly.

You fell back on the bed after Kunikida pulled out of you, heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Kunikida fell on his back beside you, equally tuckered out, his face sheening with sweat.

"Wow..." you whispered before covering your mouth, giggling softly.

Kunikida just sighed beside you, turning his head to look at you fondly, and apologetically. "I've been a terrible husband."

Your mouth fell open. You didn't want him to think that! "Wait... no-"

"I've been neglecting you. For that, I am terribly sorry." Kunikida just continued on and you just shook your head quickly, moving your hands to cover his mouth.

"You are not a terrible husband," you told him firmly before pulling your hands. You both frowned. "I just... I missed you a lot. I know you are dedicated to your work and I love you so much for that but... I don't know, it just made me feel like I wasn't... a priority..."

Kunikida's entire body stiffened, his mouth falling open. "H-how does that not make me a terrible husband?"

"Because!" you exclaimed, waving your hands a bit wildly. "You aren't! Every day I wake up so proud to be your wife! I just... had a moment of insecurity..." You chewed on your bottom lip, knowing that you probably weren't making sense. But it was how you truly felt, and you wanted to be honest with him.

He seemed to understand it, Kunikida nodding his head before he sat up, looking around the room. "I need my phone..."

You blinked. "For what?"

"I'm taking time off," Kunikida answered and your jaw dropped. "My wife needs her husband now," he continues, glancing at you with a small smile. "Plus, we need to have a conversation about this, so something like this won't happen again."

You smiled back at him. "So your notebook won't be held hostage?" you teased, giggling when his eyebrow twitched.

"Yes. Exactly."

You giggled again, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss on his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Requests are closed!

#bsd x reader #kunikida x reader #bsd smut #kunikida smut #yeaaaah

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erefics · 3 years

Text

afterglow by erefics

synopsis: reader has had a rough day of first classes, and comes home in tears to a supportive eren. now, his only purpose is to make you feel better in any way he can.

content warnings: female bodied reader, corruption, daddy kink, daddy!eren, major praise kink, breeding, use of the pet name puppy but no pet kink

word count: 1.7k

*all characters are aged up and in college*!

your eyes had been swollen and puffy as your feet shuffled across the hallway back to your shared apartment with boyfriend eren. they dragged across the tile, making it evident you’d been tiresome and overpowered from the harsh and cruel school day.

not only were your classes harder than you expected, but the other students were relentlessly mean all day to you. they hadn’t given you a break the entirety of the day, teasing you and making you run to the bathroom stall in order to dry the tears falling down your perfect pink cheeks.

thankfully, eren had always been there for you when you came home from school. he got out of his last period before you, which was a perfect way to be greeted in the living room by him after dealing with the harsh reality of college.

“what’s wrong, doll?” he immediately noticed the poor little grimace on your face, which you tried so desperately to hide. it wasn’t because you didn’t want to tell him what happened per say, it was just the fact that you struggled opening up about your feelings. you were so sensitive, so easily broken. he knew that. and he knew when something was most definitely wrong with his puppy.

“what—‘m okay, eren,” you lied bashfully, covering your reddened cheeks with your hand, but your palm was too small to conceal the tears.

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly. it didn’t take him long to catch on, and he moved your hand off of your face by force, pinning it down to your side.

“what did i tell you about hiding your feelings from me, princess?” his voice deepened.

you looked up at him rather slowly, it took you a moment to make full eye contact because you’d been stalling from that for so long now. he was quite intimidating when looking at you so directly.

“i…’m not hiding anything,” you continued to lie, surprising even yourself by the amount of perseverance you were showing.

his grip on your wrist only grew tighter, which started to startle you a bit.

“speak up for daddy, dollface. i’m not gonna bite you for talking about your feelings,” eren raised his bushy eyebrows, even puckering his lips into a very tempting pout. that was all you needed to spill out your feelings to him.

“well, my day just wasn’t the best…’started with chemistry, got asked to leave because i hadn’t been prepared, apparently you have to ‘bring your own goggles’. shouldnt that be included in the tuition? and my mathematics professor is a total dick. but don’t get me started on the girls who’d been teasing me all day…calling’ me names and stuff, talking behind my back and already starting rumors. then on the way home from the campus i tripped on an empty soda can and was pretty much out of breath and started crying and—“

“y/n!” eren interrupted your ramble, soothing your pulsing heartbeat with a hand on your chest. his fingers stroked the side of your jaw softly, wiping the excess tears that hadn’t yet dried, or fallen to the floor. “‘s okay, i’m here now,” he brought you into an embrace, finally, ridding you of all sadness. “what kind of assholes would say anything like that about my precious puppy?” he removed his hands from your back, keeping the same eye contact from before.

“dunno. ‘don’t even wanna go back tomorrow,” you sighed, plopping down onto the sofa next to eren, crossing your arms as if throwing a hissy fit.

“well you’re here for now, angel. you’re safe. and in my comfort. i’m here to always make you feel the best you possibly can,” eren followed you, sitting on the sofa and grabbing you by the hips and placing you on his lap, your back facing his stomach. his hand traced lightly down the side of your neck, humming to himself ever so quietly. you could barely even hear, but it was faint enough. “daddy won’t let anybody make you feel like that again,” he hummed, his hand rimming the silhouette of your shoulder, moving its way down your arm softly, giving yourself chills.

you giggled a bit at the soft ticklish feeling of his hand trailing down your clean and untainted skin.

“shhh, puppy. let me make you forget that bad day, yeah?”

you jolted in his lap a bit as his hand made its way across your lap, gripping the fat of your thigh and squeezing it until your aching core felt the effects of it. “y–yes, daddy,” you nodded, starting to let yourself enjoy his strokes of love, eyes even closing through instinct. you simply let go while he took over the controls of your body.

“such a pretty body. do you know that, y/n? that you have such a delicate, fucking untouchable body. it’s too bad i’m gonna touch it, then. gonna touch it real good.” eren nodded to himself, his hand gripping your cunt through your skirt, almost as if he was taking a handful of you. the fact you’d been fully clothed still yet you felt so fucking wonderful as the pressure exceeded against your clit–was magical.

“yes, yes! real good, daddy,” you blurted out, back arching against his lap.

“mhm, i know, i know, shhh.” his fingers uncovered your panties by pushing the pleated skirt above his hand, towards your torso. the fabric was so thin and mesh, you could see everything through the undies. eren had taken one swipe of his finger down your slit, and that was enough to know how wet you’d been. “fuck, fuck. you’re gushing, pup. how fucking pretty is that?” he mumbled, holding up his finger with your juices coated on it, dripping down the digit.

“‘already so wet, ‘m sorry. you know ‘m sensitive, daddy. can’t handle the things you say,” you beg for his sympathy.

“course you can sweetheart. you can, and you will handle me,” eren kissed the gap between your neck and shoulder, simultaneously pushing your panties aside to begin rubbing through your slick cunt. “oh, oh yeah…i love how that feels, princess.”

his fingers moved like light work against your clit, using muscle memory from your previous encounters together because he’d already known the things you liked. soft and slow we’re the two key words. “being so good for me. letting daddy touch you how he pleases, hm? that’s my good girl. such a pretty cunt. feels so good i bet. you have to tell me. tell me how it feels, okay?”

“ ‘feels good!! eren, eren, please. can you go a little faster?” you’d asked him, struggling through your words. eren didn’t even respond before picking up the speed of his fingers on your clit. he’d been waiting for the signal to go faster forever. he’d ached for ages to move from slow to fast and soft to rough. but he only wanted to do the things you were comfortable with. “oh!! fuck, ‘s feeling good eren!”

“just like this? i knew you’d like that, puppy,” he smirked into your shoulder as you squirmed around in his lap, moving your hips with your own mighty power to add extra pressure to your clit, along with his fingers already rocketing inside you.

“‘m so close!!” you cried.

“i thought so, hm. of course i wanna let you cum. but i think it’d be more enjoyable if you did so with this pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock?”

“yes, yes!! yes, ‘m so desperate to feel myself on your cock, daddy. ‘s too much, want more though”

he chuckled, using his other hand to unbuckled himself underneath you, proving to be rather good at doing two things at once. touching you and unbuckling.

within seconds, he aligned himself with your leaking cunt, putting pressure with his tip on your clit first, which matter of fact had been throbbing and pulsating, waiting to be overstimulated to the point of climax.

“eren!! oh!!” you cried out, body bending over forward like jello as his tip just satisfied you a bit too much as it pressed against your cunt. “put it in please!! put it in!”

“so impatient, hm. remember i’m doing this because you had a bad day.” he spoke, and mid sentence, he pushed his length slowly inside your walls. “and this is special treatment,” he finished, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt.

eren kept himself aligned while inside of you, somewhat still aside from your occasional squirming giving stimulation to his length.

he placed soft kisses against the back of your neck, lifting hair out of the way first, letting you adjust to his size for a few moments before finally starting to add movement, going steady enough to just give you relief to breathe out.

“daddy!!” you leaned back against him, hands reaching for anything to grab as you started moving vertically against his cock, that pretty, tiny body rocking up and down to feel good.

“daddy loves you,” he murmured softly into her ear as he added more frequent thrusts into her hole, moving her entire body up a few inches off the sofa which proved how intense his power was. “you know daddy loves you, right, pup?”

“mhm, yes! d-daddy loves me,” you repeated after him.

it only took a few moments more before you’d been too stimulated and you released yourself while he’d been inside you. the noises you made were so pretty and loud once you finished, it had signaled eren to cum with you. there was no warning or hesitation, he simply emptied himself inside your little pretty cunt, his load leaking out of you and onto both of your thighs, causing a rather evident mess.

“feel okay, my dear?” he spoke softly, squeezing your body tight against his chest. you nodded, rocking whatever energy you had left against his cock even after finishing, proving you still had some left in you.

“now i’m gonna need you to tell me every name of every student that hurt your feelings today.”

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #aot smut #eren x reader #attack on titan eren #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren jeager headcanons #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut

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ateezbabygirl · 4 years

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Ateez Mafia Reaction: To their S/O being bratty

PARK SEONGHWA

Even though you were quite the obedient girlfriend and Seonghwa was in charge usually. Although you never questioned it but not every time you agreed to his actions. The first time you decided to stomp your foot and throw a tantrum like a child was when your boyfriend refused to take you out for shopping. Even though you had been looking forward to spending the day with him and you had made it known to him as to how excited you were, you were disappointed that Seonghwa hadn’t warned you beforehand about the change of plans. And the in the moment your lips formed a pout in the most childish way, crossing your arms as you whined at him.

But it was also first time you saw your boyfriend’s personality switch outside the bedroom. He always acted like a gentleman towards you and treated you like a doll. Seonghwa’s face switched in a millisecond as he pulled you close, his grip was firm on your forearm.

“You really don’t want to play this game with me princess?”

You were surely intimidated by his gaze as your body turned hotter every minute. But you still turned your head away from his, only earning a dark chuckle from him.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat, I’ll treat you like one.”

KIM HONGJOONG

As much as you loved Hongjoong with all his flaws, one thing you hated with passion was how he always prioritized his work over you. And that was all you could think about in that very moment as you laid on your boyfriend’s bed, bored out of your mind while he was typing away on his laptop. You purposely sighed loudly just so you could get his attention but instead you hear his frustrated sigh which sparks a streak of annoyance within you.

Dramatically you took a pillow and threw at him causing him to pause his typing and turn around. The more he stared at you, you fought your instinct to cower away and crossed your arms as you glared back at him. But his change of expression baffled you.

You watched closely as he stood up and walked over to you while loosening his tie. His smirk made you weak in your bones but you stood your ground. In the blink of an eye he quickly pinned you to the bed. You mind blacked out as soon as his lips collide with yours. You were so far away that you didn’t realise that he had tied you hands to the bedpost. Hongjoong got off and took a seat next to you.

“If I have to stop, you won’t be able to able to walk for the next week.”

“Is that a promise ?”

“Bet.”

JEONG YUNHO

As you sat in an expensive restaurant with your boyfriend Yunho for your monthly date, you couldn’t help but gawk at him. He always looked mouth watering good in his fancy suits. Even though you had been giving him hints all through the night, he simply ignored them which made you slightly annoyed. You wanted nothing more than to just ride him into oblivion, but your boyfriend was persistent on going on this date. So you had decided to act up, something that Yunho enjoyed only in the bedroom walls. He wanted to keep his other side behind the closed doors only, but you desperately wanted him to snap. Initially you had been extra quiet but he was too occupied with the thought of the date to realise you scheming eyes. As the waiter brought out your food, you took a few bites and whined loudly at Yunho as to how much you disliked the food. He had stopped chewing his food and looked at you. But you didn’t let it deter you as you gave him puppy eyes.

“Don’t act like this doll. I know how much you love this restaurant.”

“But Yunho...”

Sadly, Yunho had caught onto you plan and he all but refused to give into you tonight. He knew what you wanted and he was definitely going to give it to you but not before he tamed your bratty attitude .

“You better fill that mouth with food before I give you something else to shut you up with.”

KANG YEOSANG

If there was one thing that Yeosang hated the most was if somebody disturbed him when he was doing a task. And that’s exactly what your inner brat was telling you to do. You especially loved when Yeosang put you into place. So you decided to walk into his office without knocking while wearing the shortest dress you could find. Even though he had told you not to walk around wearing that dress, you paid no mind to that. And Yeosang’s expression was worth the trouble.

“Behave.”

Yeosang got a grip and asked you politely to wait outside his office while he finished his meeting, and surprisingly you went along with it. But you should’ve known better, because as soon as the meeting ended and his men walked out accidentally giving you a look over, Yeosang’s demeanor shifted. But you refused to look him in the eyes and walked in nudging him a little too hard as you walked by. After all your plan had worked and Yeosang was exactly where you wanted him to be. But the more his eyes bore into you the more difficult it’d become to ignore him. As you turned around he was glaring at you.

“Where do you think you’re going about dressed like that ?”

“Haven’t you figured out already what happens to brats who don’t listen to simple rules?”

CHOI SAN

San loves playing game, especially whenever he would get a new game, he would devote his free time to play the game instead of spending it with you. That’s what he had been doing for the past few weeks and you’ve had enough. You wanted his attention and you would do anything to get it.

It was dark inside the house and all you could see was the dull light that emitted in the lounge room from the computer screen and the sound of rapid tapping of the keyboard and clicking of the computer mouse fueled your frustrations. As you walked towards him, you tapped his shoulder, but instead of turning around, he just raised his hand pointing one finger indicating for you to wait. You tapped his shoulder again only to receive a warning.

“If you interrupt me one more time, see what happens.”

And that’s exactly what you did , but unfortunately for you San paid you no intention. So you turned you attention the gaming console. You marched towards it and plugged it right off the socket. San sat emotionlessly, not even turning his head to look at you. his head not even turning to look at you.

“Come here.”

The look on his face made your heartbeat pick up pace. But you stood your ground, your eyebrows furrowed as you folded your arms dramatically with a triumphant look.

“You’re in trouble now.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. The look of triumph on your face vanished within no time and your throat became parched.

“You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you brat?”

“Don’t worry darling, Daddy is going to give it you so good that you’re going to be begging for me to stop.”

SONG MINGI

Mingi was diligent boyfriend. He did everything he could for you two to have a relationship. And without asking, everything was given to you on a silver platter. But lately Mingi has been paying more attention to his work than you. Although he’d said he’d make it up to you, it had been weeks. Just like today, he had to leave in the middle of the date because of some ‘work’. He had asked you to stay back to finish the food and came back in time to pick you up. But you were upset to the point that all your past frustration made your mood go even more downhill.

So here you were, sitting next to him with your arms crossed with an incoming headache. Mingi was too busy on the phone until he finally noticed that you hadn’t spoken even once since he came back nor did you look at him. He went to grab your hand but you shook him off instantly. You turned your head to look out of the car window waiting for his apology. But it never and instead the car started moving. So you turned your head to glare at him, not saying a word.

“Don’t give me that look.”

He suddenly placed a hand on you thigh as a warning, but you weren’t going to back down. Not today. You’ve had enough. You removed his hand from your thigh no matter how much you loved it.

“Don’t make me take you home and punish you, babygirl.”

You whined loudly unable to stop it as the smirk on Mingi’s face grew. He took a look at you and shook his head. All of a sudden, he moved in closer to your ear, his hand on your thigh now moving up to the hem of your dress.

“But you would like that, now wouldn’t you ?”

JUNG WOOYOUNG

Your relationship with Wooyoung was full of passion. Red hot passion. That’s how you made each other feel and it seemed that the fire wasn’t going to die down anytime soon. So you always liked to try him when you were in public. It’s so fun seeing him get all worked up over you. That’s why you decided to wear the shortest dress you could find for your date tonight. Wooyoung kept on turning his head to look at you. Gone were the nicknames as Wooyoung didn’t look amused at all by your antics. You kept on rolling your eyes at him and making sarcastic comments when he was talking to you.

Unfortunately Wooyoung wasn’t having it today, all he wanted was to have a sophisticated dinner with his girl but it seemed as if you had different plans tonight. Thus, it didn’t take much for Wooyoung to snap considering he always likes to tease you but today his vigilance ran short. You weren’t surprised when you felt his hand rest on top of your exposed thigh giving it a tight squeeze and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble when we get home.”

“You can’t tease me like that and expect not to get punished.”

CHOI JONGHO

Jongho was a sweetheart to you and everyone knew it. But sometimes you took advantage of it, to have your way in everything. But lately you had been getting on his nerves for no reason. Although Jongho tried his best not to snap at you, he was reaching his limit. You would create a scene every morning when he had to leave for work, even when he was working you would blast his phone with texts and calls and Jongho being the sweetheart he is would always answer. So when you started to talk back to him in front of everyone in the gang meeting, he would snap. Jongho would ignore you for the rest of the meeting.

Only inside the four walls of your home would he show his true emotions. As soon the door closed, he’d grab your chin in his hand and force you to look up at him. His piercing gaze held you captive, no matter how you act, his gaze always made you submit. Jongho maintained the eye contact as he backed up you against a wall. He’d ghost his lips over yours while not exactly kissing you. You knew he wasn’t a fan of attitude at all, so he’d made up his mind to discipline you because it seemed like you needed to be taught manners.

“Wanna run that mouth again babygirl ?”

“Because if you want to beg, you better start begging.”

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acahope311 · 3 years

Text

Alone Together

Sleepover request

burning-quesadilla said: Can you do Fluff #3 for Glorestor? Also the sleepover idea sounds really fun, I love it & can't wait♥️ ((She/he/they) don’t compare to you. No one does.)

A/N: SOOOOOOO... Hi haha! I am back! I now have more free time to just get back into writing-- I forgot how fun it was to do this. @burning-quesadilla I am sososo sorry it took so long to do this 😭 but I hope you can forgive me and I hope you like it as well. This is technically my first only canon characters fic so... I really do hope I do them justice. But thank you so much for sending this request in! I had such a blast writing it!

Warnings: Death (but as a flashback/dream); sparring; falling; big booboo bruise on the forehead; fluff.

The evening darkness seeped into the glowing halls of Imladris. Although the hour grew late and everyone had retired to their respected quarters, Erestor’s mind continued to storm in the clear summer night. Tossing and turning in his bed, the poor elf could not relax.

“How can I rest knowing that a dark evil has arrived at our door?” He asked already knowing the answer.

His restlessness traveled from his mind to his palms, he needed to busy his idle hands, hoping that in doing so, his mind would calm. Silently, he stood and headed towards the training grounds. Now, normally, Erestor was not one to blow off steam through physical exercise, being a strong advocate of "brain over brawn", but even he knew how therapeutic it was to hit something with a sword- be it wooden or real.

Arriving on the premises, his slender fingers gripped a training sword. It had been a while since he'd gripped anything bigger than a pen, but it was not a strange sensation-- although a scholar, he made sure his body and movements were as sharp as his mind. Facing the wooden post, Erestor practiced his movements, swift and precise.

Lunge. His foot extended forward, bringing him towards his target.

"What is the next move?"

Sidestep. Quickly turning on his heel, he spun and landed a side strike-- chipping the wood.

"How can we defeat this growing malice in the east?"

Deflect. Imagining an enemy, Erestor held his sword up in hopes of stopping an imaginary attack- strangely enough reeling in the process.

"The halflings cannot take this evil alone."

Advance. Focusing once again, the lithe elf ran towards the post, preparing to land the final blow.

"What help can I provide?"

As he was about to land the finishing blow, his ankle caught on a mound of dirt he did not realize he’d formed with his movements. Instead of finishing through, his body toppled over and his face ate dirt-- literally. After a few moments-- thanking Eru that no one was alive to see that--Erestor turned over and laid on his back, in pain and frustration… and maybe a twinge of embarrassment. His chest heaved with difficulty from his exercise, but also with exasperation.

“What help can I provide?”

Still deep in thought, he failed to register the sound of another person moving through the ground to lay next to him. When the other elf laid down next to him, staring at the sky, Erestor jumped.

“Glorfindel?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A horrendous screech echoed through the stone cliffs, wracking the very bones of the elf warrior as he stood, steadfast, against his foe. The balrog of Melkor was no small enemy-- literally. Standing heads above Glorfindel, the creature surged forward with heavy but strong steps, driven with the determination to obliterate him. Under normal circumstances, anyone- with a sound mind- would turn tail and run for their lives. Not Glorfindel, not the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. The mighty elf swung his sword with precision, slicing the thick horn of the balrog. A pained roar blasted the elf back to the edge of the cliff. Looking back to his followers, Glorfindel could see his kin terrified of the events.

“GO! I WILL HOLD IT OFF! KEEP OUR KIN SAFE!” He yelled, his command piercing the howling of the beast and the wind. Turning back to his enemy, he saw the rabid look in its eyes, angered by its wounds. Invigorated by rage, the balrog lunged at him once again, hands outstretched, teeth in a snarl. It was as if evil embodied had come down to smite the golden elf. However, Glorfindel was not one to be tested so easily; quick as a flash, the ellon sheathed his sword deep in the chest of his enemy. It happened so fast that even the balrog itself had no idea what had occurred, rather its body reacted on its own. Black spots danced in its vision as it began to fall over the cliff, into the jagged peaks below. Glorfindel was the victor. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as he looks to the sky sending a silent prayer to his maker.

“Thank Eru.” He closes his eyes and revels in a moment of respite as he feels the wind whip around him and through his golden hair, making it dance wildly in the air.

“Finally, I need to help-” Suddenly the world goes black as a sharp and heavy tug pulls his head abruptly in an inhuman angle towards the abyss after his enemy.

SNAP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel jolts awake in a pool of sweat. His chest is heaving as he gulps down air. His throat is stinging as he touches it, making him assume that he was screaming. Luckily, his rooms are in their own separate side of Rivendell away from the other citizens.

A dream… No. A memory. Trying his best to steady his breathing, Glorfindel runs through the events of the past few days to anchor him to his present, reminding him that he is not in the First Age, that Balrogs are no longer in this era.

Strange… I’ve not had that dream in such a long time. The air turns cold as he feels like he is being watched. Suddenly he remembers his escapade of saving Frodo from the Nazgul.

The Ring. A restlessness--no, an uneasiness-- falls on his entire being.

“I need to do something,” Glorfindel says out loud. Jumping up, he dresses in training clothes and heads to the training grounds.

A good spar will do me some good.

As he nears the grounds, he hears grunts, pants, and growls. Confused as to who would be here, his first assumption would be Legolas or Estel.

Good, I’d prefer a real sparring partner to a wooden doll.

As he rounds the corner, his eyes widen at the sight of Erestor, the librarian, destroying the wooden doll with such precision and speed that even he was almost impressed. Almost. He noted the fluid movement and purposeful strikes, but he pointed out the lack of determination-- he was distracted.

If he does not pay attention, he’ll- As though reading his thoughts, his dear companion decided that the ground would be his next victim as he fell, face first, into the dirt. The sight of the fallen elleth was enough to lift his spirits up, but he knew he needed to make sure that he was alright. However, Glorfindel is not a cruel man, so instead of letting loose a string of guffaws, he stealthily, walked to Erestor’s panting form on the dirt. As he laid down next to him, a sigh of relief escaped him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello, Erestor. Fine night to lay under the stars.” The golden eldar said calmly. His very presence made his companion even more flustered from fear of having been seen in his tumble.

“What are you doing here?” Glorfindel chuckled as he folded his arms behind his head and sighed contentedly.

“I was taking a stroll, and heard a noise coming from the training grounds. At first I assumed it to be the prince of Mirkwood, but imagine my surprise when I see the counselor of Rivendell flailing a stick around like an elfling trying to wave off an imaginary orc in the night.” His baritone chuckle reverberated through the cool breeze, sending a shiver down the brunette elf’s spine-- not sure if it was because of the chill or his voice. Blushing furiously, he asked,

“Why are you lying on the ground?”

“You face planted. So I am lying next to you just in case someone were to pass by, they’d think we were just resting from a night of sparring.” His answer caused Erestor to choke on his breath.

He saw! An embarrassed moan is pulled from his mouth while Glorfindel smirks.

“Don’t worry, I understand. What weighs your heart that it distracted your training? He asked without looking at him. Erestor is silent for a bit

“I am weighed down by the worries that the halflings bring, Glorfindel. I need to propose a plan of attack and defense. I need-” Erestor’s rant is cut off with his companion’s hand on his mouth.

“You need to rest. Your mind has done more work than your body-- and it is showing with that huge bruise on your forehead.” Self consciously, Erestor covers his bruise.

Cute.

“And there is no use being worried and burdened at the same time, then your punishment is prolonged and double-- believe me. I know.” The tone in his voice held a twinge of sadness that Erestor did not miss.

“Why are you here Glorfindel?” He whispers. When did they move closer?

Silence again. Closing his eyes, the golden elf sighs and confesses his dream.

“Oh Glorfindel… We need to go to the healers, they can maybe give you something for sleep.”

“No, I just… just stay here with me. Your company is remedy enough.” Glorfindel says softly, almost vulnerably. His request pulls at Erestor’s heart and mind.

“I am no healer, Glorfindel. I cannot heal you.” Erestor says, turning to him and propping his head on his arm to better look at him.

“I don’t believe so, our healers are great- do not misunderstand. But to me, they don’t compare to you. No one does.”

Still not looking at him, Glorfindel closes his eyes and just basks in Erestor’s presence with a small smile. A comfortable silence passes, so long, in fact, that the morning birds are beginning to wake. Noting the peace that falls upon Glorfindel’s face, it dawns on him that he should have given him some time to spar.

“I should leave you alone.” Erestor says reluctantly, pulling away. Before he could get far enough, Glorfindel’s hand gently pulled him back.

“I think you could use some alone time as well. So why not let us be alone together, melethen.”

Erestor smiles and nods. Laying back down, the two elven lords lay on the ground, under the dawning sky as the city around them slumbers. Erestor’s mind calmed and his heart felt lighter. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“You know… We should be alone together more often.”

Taglist: @elvish-sky

#glorestor #glorfindel #erestor #tolkien #lotr elves #fluff #writing #fanfic #sleepover #burning quesadilla

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Viv Tang fic or hc?

It's angst, where The Poppy leaves MC to take the blame on one of their heists, promising that they would break her out, but never did. Yet despite that she never sold them out.

Then Nadia was the one who broke her out, manipulating her and plotting lies in her head to make her join Flashpoint.

The Poppy did do their everything to break MC out but everytime Nadia intercepts them. So when they finally tracked down where MC and Nadia is, on the location of their latest operation, they tried to reason to her. But MC's loyalty was too deep for Nadia maybe because Nadia also made MC think that she loves her or something.

And maybe the last words could be:

"Next time I won't hesitate to tell them to pull the trigger, maybe I'll be the one to pull the trigger myself."

Make it as angsty as possible please and thank you in advance!

Warning: Mentions of murder.

...

Prison life was hell. Try as she might, MC couldn’t endure it as well as she thought she could. There was an enemy in every shadow, in every corner. There was no one to lean against, no support.

The days dragged on and on, virtually endless, no help in sight.

MC remembered the warmth of the Poppy, their joyous celebrations, the life in their eyes as they planned a heist that would ultimately unveil in failure. No one had known then that it would go wrong, and MC couldn’t help but wonder if they would have cared. If they would have changed anything in the plan.

There wasn’t a moment in this damn place where people didn’t shove it in her face—no doubt it was on purpose, why the heck would they want to drag a failure like you around? —and scoffed at her when they saw her, not believing for a second that this scared little kid could belong to such a famous group.

Two weeks in, MC had abandoned any hope that she would be rescued. She was stuck for fifteen years in this place. Investigators would come in periodically, their eyes stone cold as they probed her for answers, but MC kept her mouth shut and looked away. They would get physical sometimes, intent on getting answers, but MC say nothing.

The memory of a place she truly belonged in was still fresh in her mind. She had always been an emotional person… it was no surprise she had no desire to sell them out. At least not yet. Give her a couple of months, and maybe she’d be bitter enough to do it.

Three weeks in, a blast had knocked the whole prison into chaos. The sheer relief that flooded her was only slightly evaporated by the spark of anger and indignation in her chest, but she still hurried out, thirsty for freedom.

She expected to see Vivienne’s impish smirk, hand extended in her direction, no remorse in her eyes, but was surprised by golden hair and a tight, crisp suit that had once been white, now marred by dirt and smoke and blood.

“Oh good, I was wondering how much target practice I would have before you showed up,” the woman said, her grin as sharp as a knife’s edge even though she was standing so casually, as if they weren’t standing at the edge of a broken prison wall but in a café.

MC froze, caught off guard. Someone—another inmate—ran behind her, intent on reaching freedom, and the woman whipped a gun in his direction so fast he didn’t even have time to react. His body joined the pile of bodies by the side, momentum making it flop like a sad, broken doll. The woman hums to herself as she reloads the gun.

“Hurry up, MC, I don’t have all day.”

“Wha—? But you just shot—”

She shrugs, nonchalant. “Yeah, well, since they are no use to me… I might as well practice my aim, no?”

“…I—”

“Hurry up and come here, MC,” the woman says, impatience making her voice firmer and deadlier. Her arm snaps up, the sound of a gunshot making the air vibrate, and MC covers her ears and flinches. Someone lets out a pained gurgle and the thump right behind her makes MC shiver. A swift glance reveals it’s a guard. “The cavalry has arrived—next shot is at your feet if you don’t move. Right. Now.”

MC has never run so fast in her entire life. The woman’s grin returns, pleased, and after one last shot, she guides MC out into a waiting helicopter. They are out of the prison without much trouble. Still a bit anxious, MC takes one of the seats, stiffly. In contrast, the woman lets herself drop in the seat in front of her and all but beams at her.

“Sorry about that—I like to make things dramatic. Name’s Nadia.”

“That was… a tad more dramatic than I would have liked…”

“You’ll get used to it in no time,” she replies, waving her hand as if it’s no big deal. She smirks and lets the gun drop on MC’s lap, who goes very still, staring at the device in horror. “Safety’s on, chill. I’d never do anything to you, MC.”

“You literally threatened me like three seconds ago.”

“Because we were going to get caught otherwise! I wouldn’t have acted on it, promise.”

MC chances a look at her eyes—there’s a dangerous amusement dancing in them, like the light blue of a river that doesn’t seem to have a very strong current until you are swept off into a certain death. There are no second chances with this woman, no false appearances. MC doesn’t realize how reliving this raw honesty is until it washes over her, and she wonders if right now she’s at the edge of the river. One wrong move…

“Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“No big deal. I heard what happened with the Poppy—figures they aren’t as noble as they make everyone believe.”

Those words cut into MC like a frosty knife.

“I… I thought they sent you to break me out…”

Nadia scoffs. “Me, working with stuck-ups like them? Now that’s a good laugh.”

“Why did you bail me out, then?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She leans forward. “The Poppy threw away some very valuable talent. As any proper thief would do, I claimed it for myself.”

“…threw away, huh?”

“They were quite satisfied with themselves, too. Imagine the fit they’ll have when they know you’re with Flashpoint now.”

It’s hard to believe her words. The image of a joyous Poppy is still fresh in MC’s mind, but Nadia’s words tint it a dull reddish-brown, just like a faded photograph. She thinks about Vivienne’s words, about her promise to break her out, and frowns.

“You speak as though I’ve already joined your little group.”

“There’s no other option, MC. I’m not letting a talent like you slip away… plus, don’t you want to get back at them? Show them what a horrible mistake they did?”

“…”

“Or just let them seethe silently in rage, sure. Can’t say I love your approach, but eh.”

Her fingers curl around the grip of the gun. “What happens if I don’t want to work for you?”

Nadia looks at her with keen interest, still with a lazy smirk. “Then you’d be volunteering for target practice.”

“I thought you say you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t hurt my coworkers, no, but if you cross me—whoever you are—then you seal your fate.”

MC hums, looking at the firearm in her lap, moving her thumb over the safety. After a small pause, in which she glances over at the pilot, she moves her hand away.

“Fine. I’ll join.”

“Great!”

Flashpoint, true to its name, prefers more flashy heists.

MC wasn’t too comfortable with their modus operandi at first, but got used to it soon enough.

Nadia was a strict leader. Every conversation with her was intense and dangerous, especially when she was in a bad mood, but she was thorough.

She didn’t mince her words. She was as honest as could be, and after months caught in Vivienne’s game, Nadia was a breath of fresh air. MC couldn’t be really blamed for falling in love with her, right? In the end, Nadia was the only one willing to support her.

That’s why it had been such a surprise when, in the middle of their latest heist, the Poppy had intervened.

They had been as organized as always—Flashpoint was completely caught off guard, the communication lost. MC could deal with not knowing what happened to the rest, so long as she had Nadia with her.

Nadia had been strangely amused when the Poppy crashed their heist, not worried at all, gripping her knife without a care in the world. That was reassuring… at least during this forced encounter, MC would have her by her side.

And it was comforting to see that Nadia hadn’t taken out her gun yet.

Vivienne is the one who speaks, voice as demanding as firewood smoke, and MC goes deadly still when the seductress goes straight to the point instead of dancing around the subject as she usually does. “Nadia prevented us from breaking you out.”

Her words ring hollow. Now that MC has been out of her influence long enough, it’s easy to ignore her words. They are fake, anyway. They must be.

Nadia scoffs, wolfish grin still in place. “Blaming me now, huh? That’s low. I thought you would have come up with a better excuse.”

Remy instantly starts to explain the foiled attempts, and their most recent efforts to find Flashpoint now that MC was with them, but MC can’t look at him without remembering her time in prison—dark, dark, not an ally in sight, contempt in every corner—and it’s enough to make her bristle.

How dare they? How dare they spill these lies after leaving her to rot in jail? After lying to her for months, making her believe she was one of them?

The fact that they had left her to take the fall was insulting. If it had been Nadia, she would have stayed with her. They would have gone down together, guns blazing. Nadia was the type of person that gave everything or nothing at all.

Vivienne tries to speak again, a desperation in her eyes MC had never seen before, but the sight is oddly satisfying.

Nadia catches it, because of course she does, her smirk softening as she reaches for her gun and aims casually. “Better beg for your lives now.”

And Nadia’s also a very dramatic person, that’s for sure. MC almost wants to laugh at their faces, eyes trained on the gun, expression tainted with disbelief, but MC sees no point in killing them. Not like this, at least.

“What? You still don’t want to get back at them?” But even then, even with how much she’s itching to pull the trigger, Nadia lowers the weapon and scowls. “Fine.”

“Don’t come back to me with this bullshit. Next time I won’t hesitate to tell Nadia to pull the trigger. Maybe I’ll even pull the trigger myself.”

Vivienne sets her jaw and stands still, and MC gives her a small, triumphant smile before she follows Nadia out of the museum.

#Anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #qot #queen of thieves #qot nadia #lovestruck nadia #queen of thieves nadia #nadia pshenichnikova #nadia x mc #angst

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suspiciouslybluemilktea · 3 years

Text

Chapters 3-5 of The Passed Out Princess

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran See all chapters

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Warnings and notes found in chapter 1-2

Without taking a second to assess the situation, he began his tantrum, entering the room without even a knock out of courtesy.

“Finally getting what you wanted and you’re laying down on the bed as if nothing matters! You should be grateful I even thought to check up on you!”

The door shut behind him with a slam.

“Well then? Up. Get up, toy. I didn’t come all the way out here to watch you sleep!”

Saeran made his way over to the bed, almost in a stomping manner.

Uyu let out a small groan, attempting to pick herself up to look him in the eyes, disobeying one of his direct orders on purpose even now. With some shifts, she made her way to sitting up at the edge of the bed close to him with a slouch in her posture. Moving about to face him signaled her forehead to throb again, causing her to instinctively lift her hand to touch it beneath her bangs, a wince escaping her mouth.

“Is that all you’ve got to show me how much I’m making you suffer? Tch. Pathetic! You suck. Take more lessons from Zen while you’re chatting with him so damn much. Maybe he can at least teach you to cry on command for me. Didn’t you take theater classes before or something?”

The tall man in black towered over her as he spoke, icy eyes glaring at her through marshmallow colored fringe which fell over them in his lean forward. His lips curled into a wicked grin before he broke the awkward silence again.

“Well then...what would you like to refer to this issue as? Tell me. You must have weaved quite the story in preparation for my arrival. Out with it!”

Uyu mustered up some strength to mutter out a little of what he needed to know, embarrassed having to explain herself and call for his help when he appeared to be nothing but cruel to her.

He had shouted at her. He had shoved her a little. He had pinned her against a wall and trapped her like a wolf hunting a small, doe eyed rabbit.

And now, here she was teaching him about one of her medical conditions. Needless to say, she wished it possible to pretend it all wasn’t happening.

“..I have chronic low blood sugar. If...my hunger goes unchecked…..it just drops...my blood sugar I mean... and I get sick….it’s undocumented as there’s not much else doctors can do other than tell me to eat..”

Oh the shame.

“Pfft-”

Saeran cackled, loudly, higher in pitch, his voice reaching a part of his lungs that made it almost wheezy.

“Seriously? I hate how your list of problems is so long a fool might have believed you. You’re so damn weak. Say... I wonder...should today’s playtime be me dangling food in front of your face, then? Come on. Let’s get you to stand first, hmm? Then I’ll fetch you something sucky...like raw carrots...and you’ll hop for me like a pet bunny in desperation. I’ll even be so kind as to help you to your feet. What do you say, princess? Would you like that? A gentlemanly hand extended to you from your master?”

He reached down, pulling her hand away from her forehead and clasping it in his right, intertwining her small fingers with his long and slender ones. She shivered at his touch, him being so much colder than she was, as if his hand had been resting in a freezer while apart from her.

“...No...Saeran I might throw up again-”

“Sure you will~”, he cooed, bringing his face to hers.

“Where is that vomit, by the way? Did you oh so conveniently make it to the toilet so it’s all flushed away and gone? Haha...it’s hard to play with a toy who won’t even stand…so up! I’ll help you now, giving you that sweetness you oh so crave. On the count of three! One...two…”

Uyu shook her head as she attempted to pull back away from him, but her hand was still trapped in his firm grip, growing stronger as she attempted to resist.

“Three!”

Saeran gave her a jerk forward, the pull almost sending her to hit the ground before she caught herself on his arm.

“Wow! She did it! She stands! See that wasn’t so har-”

Dan felt the blood seem to rush out of her brain and downwards in a waterfall motion as that hot and cold chill returned. Her legs teetered as she lost balance, falling before grasping at him, ending up in his arms entirely, Saeran trying to avoid being knocked over himself. She let out a “brrr” noise as she shuttered, so dizzy the room felt as if it were doing somersaults and tumbles as it tossed her limp body around.

“Toy? Toy! What the hell kind of a stunt...”

Saeran pulled her away from him to get a better look at her as her head rolled to the side feebly. He held the woman out by her shoulders in front of him as if she were a little rag doll he wanted to shake back and forth to somehow bring life back into her.

“Start speaking to me! It’s not funny! You can quit the act now…stop doing that…”

His tone grew softer as the sound of a stiffness in the back of his throat made itself known, gulping as if swallowing a ball. He spoke again through gritted teeth.

“Not funny….I’m getting angrier….pull yourself together, toy…”

And with a little jostle from him, her guts felt a sudden whirl before a solid drop as did her head, the color black with spirals seizing her sight as she could no longer sort of keep herself upright. Saeran let go of her shoulders, feeling her whole weight lean in on him, catching her before she could fall.

Dan had finally blacked out cold exactly at noon, leaving Saeran alone, drowning in a sea of his own panic.

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

Saeran held her close to him for a minute out of shock, his captivating eyes wide, stunned and not wanting to witness what he was responsible for. With Uyu completely slumped into him, he maneuvered his arms around her to allow her frail unconscious body to lean backwards. He didn’t want to believe he caused her to actually pass out, supporting her with his left arm and gently caressing her soft cheek with the back of his right hand.

A part of him feared he had caused the unthinkable.

He spoke in a strained whisper.

“Princess…?”

Not to his surprise, he received no reply, not even the slightest sign that she was faking. He huffed gently as his bottom lip began to quiver...his underlying worry that she wasn’t indeed fooling him appeared now true. He pulled her close to his chest again, his heart hammering against her as he cursed under his breath, thoughts racing so fast he felt a headache of his own coming on.

“Shit….”

Saeran went down onto his knees, still cradling her as her head rested in the crook of his neck, scooching her so she was sitting on his lap. His heart hurt...it physically hurt...a crushing squeezing pain that made him want to rip it from his chest entirely. It felt as if a rose bush had wrapped its way around it, winding an elaborate cage of thorns which pierced through like a million needles; the prettiest rose wilted in his hands because he couldn’t give it basic sunlight and water. The rose which bloomed within Ray’s heart...unlike Ray, Saeran wasn’t a nurturing gardener. Screaming at a flower for not growing into what you wished it to become will do nothing. Or...was it that the flower had already blossomed as he tried to force it closed, back into becoming a bud? Either way, he could now feel the dryness of its shriveled petals as his first tear spilled down his hot cheek.

“You don’t seem so tough now…..aren’t you supposed to be able to handle what I throw at you?”

He pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her floral conditioner he once insulted overwhelming his senses.

With heavy shame and panic, the built up water in his tear ducts came trickling down in little glistening, frequent streams upon his pale face. He shook like a leaf in the wind.

“...I did it. I defeated you. Damn you. This was supposed to be better….feel better. I was promised this was what I wanted...but you made it too easy. I hate a lack of challenge...”

He lifted his head before scooping her up bridal style, carrying her to the princess bed to lay her down somewhere comfortable. Upon her back with her hair partially sprawled out behind her, her position resembled that of sleeping beauty, the one who cursed her to sleep as well as the one who could save her life sharing the same body. Saeran’s kiss could not wake her as the one who made her prick her finger on that spinning wheel, and her prince charming was gone, banished away as he could not stand the cruelties of the dark castle’s dungeons. Or at least, that’s how he felt; that he was acting as the Maleficent of this long tale.

He stared at her for a while, breathing rapidly as his chest puffed up and down, bewildered, seething and puzzled as to why this all hurt him so. His savior promised knocking Dan down was the way to go...after all, she corrupted Ray, disobeyed the savior and caused Ray to do the same, made Ray have to be cleansed...she was no good for him; a liar and a manipulator. That’s what his savior told him, and she was never wrong, was she?

He tried to take her state in again as he watched her, drinking up her lifelessness, pushing himself to feel positive about it. It was a good thing. This was a good thing. The savior might even congratulate him for this. He might even receive praise for doing the opposite as Ray had done, feeding her well put together meals despite not even having the time to sleep. Or, would the savior scold him for besting her too early? After all, she was still essential to bringing down the RFA, as useless as he made her seem to be.

“Yes, that’s it,” he thought. He HAS to make sure she’s ok so she can carry out her job. But why did it seem like so much more than that as he felt a soreness seeing her hurt? He put his hands in his hair, tugging at the white messy tufts by the roots as he audibly panted, feeling himself being sent into a frenzy of angry and confused alarm. He gasped and shook as his eyes glazed over and color drained from his complexion, internally feeling a tug a war between his yearnings and what he had been told. A few broken “ahs” and whimpers left his open mouth as Saeran stumbled backwards, bumping his heel on the bedside table with a thunk. His tears would not cease.

It felt as if no matter how he rationalized what had just happened, matching it to his savior’s wishes and words she whispered into his ears, he couldn’t find it within himself to feel successful or triumphant in any manner. He whipped himself around to avoid looking at the passed out princess, his gaze meeting a vase with fresh flowers left by Ray which she slept beside every night. This room was so full of her...so full of him...so full of them and their time spent together. With a loud crash, he knocked it over, the smashed bits aligning the floor as the water lay in a puddle, the flowers undamaged, surrounded by the mess.

He chewed skin off his lip, leaving it pinker and salty in taste. To avoid his savior’s disapproval, for acting so weak and for making Dan so ill, Saeran decided it was best to handle the entirety of the situation on his own. He licked away the bead of red hot blood, brimming from where he bit off skin before collecting himself to a degree to clean up what he had done.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a while, analyzing his features and making certain his emotions were concealed. He needed to hide his trembles and sobs if he were to re-enter the halls, wearing the iron mask of the strongest believer.

—————————————————————————————————-

Locking the door to keep Dan alone and safe, Saeran made his way around until he reached the place’s kitchen, keeping his head low to avoid the need to strike conversations or bark orders. The believers knew by now that his brisk walking and low hanging head meant no one was to disturb him, as he was probably doing something of importance for the savior. Same went for Ray, even. This made his trip rather quick and easy, even with the glances and stares he received in the halls. He paid no attention to the whispers which followed them.

“I’m hungry. Whip up something and make it fast. Doesn’t matter what as long as it’s got all the food groups and doesn’t taste like utter garbage.”

After Saeran commanded the Mint Eye chefs to get to work on a dish specially “for himself”, he pulled out his android phone to do a quick Google search on what might help with Uyu’s condition. From that he was able to piece together that candy and sugar can help provide immediate relief, for just a moment, as it would spike her blood sugars.

“Do we still have any candies around here? I want a few of those.”

“Yes Mr. Saeran sir...there are some mint candies and chocolates in the cabinet by your head…to the right. We got them recent-”

“No need to point it out and ramble. I know my way around the kitchen. Next time, just a simple yes unless I ask you to say more.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mint Eye was rather used to not seeing Saeran or Ray at meal times unless the savior requested him to attend and sit by her side, so to them, him taking his dinner to go was more normal.

He opened the white cupboard door, seeing numerous clear jars they’d set out on display during meal times. He shoved his hand into the chocolates first, taking it out empty then deciding to go for the mints, remembering “the little thing can’t have dairy.” Grabbing a solid handful of the sweet safe for her to eat, he shoved it all into the pockets of his dark suit, then leaning against the wall, eyeing the chefs at work.

As Saeran himself requested a meal, it was going to be elaborate and made by a whole team in an effort to please him, worry that a mistake could send them to be cleansed acting as a great motivator. Two people off to the right made small garlic potatoes while another two prepared a red wine sauce, to go with the steak a different believer was making. This did not include the last pair, which made stir fried vegetables, one cooking and one cutting.

The kitchen was quiet apart from the sounds of the sizzling, chopping, and stirring; Saeran swallowing saliva as his adam’s apple rolled up and then down, feeling the weight of the fear the room felt towards him. Many times, he saw that kitchens were depicted as being so loud and fun, full of life and chatter unlike this one. Saeran commanded authority and respect, yes, but none of these people would even dare say more than a yes sir no sir to him, let alone smile and act friendly. Would they even smile and talk if he wasn’t there? Or, was joy something this place had always lacked, him just now noticing because of the horribly confusing pit in his stomach at the moment? For the most part, he was on his own, the kindness he received from the savior being all he had to look forward to. And it was always enough for him, as the anxiety he provoked just being in the same room as the believers usually filled him with glee. But then...Ray found someone else who’d show him sweetness. A different kind of sweetness. One that would make his face hot to the touch and heart glow, as if he were under the bright blue sky getting a sunburn, sugary treats melting and dancing on his tongue with new flavors he just wasn’t used to. It was nerve racking and yet so energizing at the same time, something to look forward to as he snuck around to see Dan for so long. Saeran at least could say he found her words to be rather interesting, keeping him on his toes the brief time that they properly spoke together. And by brief...he meant three times. That dork passed out after they had only talked to each other three times.

He was used to the feeling of people trying to tear up his body and soul with their nails from the inside out...but not in the way she did. She at least spoke such honeyed words and phrases, sugar coated in such an unlike recipe as did the glaze which covered his savior’s. Even when telling him something harsh, Dan clarified that his best interest was always in her mind. Ray wished for more of this as he asked her to wreck his head outright. A foolish thing really. Or so Saeran was told.

“Umm...Mr. Saeran...your dish is ready.”

He picked up his stare from the floor to the believer now speaking to him as his train of thoughts were broken off. No matter how much of a display he tried to put on, his mind was somewhere else, somewhere it shouldn’t be. Thinking about someone it shouldn’t be.

“Yes, good. I’ll take the plate to my room as I’m very busy with my important work. Bring me some silverware and a napkin. And a water bottle. And cover the food so it stays warm.”

“Yes sir. For eternal paradise.”

“For eternal paradise..”

The kitchen staff said nothing to his face about the redness which surrounded his mint eyes and the tip of his nose, but behind his back was a different story.

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#ray mystic messenger #suit saeran #saeran x mc #saeran choi #Uyu #Dan Byeol #mystic messenger cmc

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joonkorre · 3 years

Text

what canst thou give?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: caught

yall cant expect me to watch the witch (2015) and not go insane trying to fit a quote into my work. also, this is the first time i ever write something veering into the 15+ category. so. go easy on me lmao

AO3

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat.

“But only if you want to, of course. No pressure at all.”

It’s sweet, that tone, as sweet and numbing as the saliva dripping down his nape. If Draco is someone else, an unfortunate bastard even more miserable than he is, he might have believed it.

“I don’t know,” he replies, the unnatural chill on the back of his bare neck too visceral a feeling. Too real. “I think having to choose between that and rotting in a back alley is at least a little bit pressuring.”

“Not too much, though?”

“Oh, no, never.”

“Good,” Edmund whispers. At this point, Draco wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not even his real name, “good.”

Draco stays quiet. With smooth jazz crooning through the walls of bars and eateries to complete the easygoing ambiance of a mid-autumn night in Muggle London, it seems to be the least likely time of the year to find oneself bargaining for their life. But here he is.

“Now,” Draco’s pulse jackrabbits so quickly he can hear it. A delighted chuckle leaks into the night. “Your answer, please.”

When he doesn’t give one, the canines on his exposed shoulder threaten to break the skin. Unexpectedly, they lift off.

“You might want to think it through a little faster, doll,” the large hand pinning Draco’s wrists against the brick wall clenches around them, then drifts down his chest. Lays flat on his quivering stomach, a persistent pressure against Draco’s thrifted bomber jacket. “We have an audience.”

Draco sucks in the stale air with a hiss. He’s pulled his date this far into the alley because he didn’t want curious onlookers as they snog. Bad fucking idea that was. Still, the thought of strangers witnessing this horrid moment fills him with dread. They can’t do anything to help anyway, only to humiliate him even more.

“What—”

“Don’t look,” Edmund nips his ear lobe, “unless you want further mortification. You mortals are ashamed of the strangest things, I can smell it on you.”

Heat rushes through his body. Draco blinks, dizzy with… with something. He doesn’t know whether he wants to rebel, turn his head, and meet the stranger’s gaze head-on, or just rest his forehead against the grimy bricks and find reluctant comfort in Edmund’s instructions.

“What do you,” Draco murmurs, sour notes of alcohol floating back into his nose, “what do you propose I do then? Just stand here and wait for them to get lost?”

“You can make it easy for yourself and say no,” Edmund says.

Those canines are back on the base of his neck. The arm that isn’t wrapped around his middle slithers across his chest, calloused palm an anchor on his shoulder blade. Draco wonders if this looks intimate, possessive—protective, even—to their observer, when he simply feels choked. A mouse gripped within the gentle loops of a snake’s body.

“You’d look like you’re swooning in my arms while I drink from your,” the tip of Edmund’s nose travels up the length of Draco’s neck, ending at where his baby hairs are matted with cold sweat, “gorgeous, delicious essence. And it’d only take a blink of an eye. Our little voyeur would never know.”

“Merlin, can’t I have a single good date?” Draco grits out. “Just fucking say blood.”

“Oh, but you’re no fun,” Edmund says. “Being poetic has its merits, I think. Makes life interesting.”

“Life will be even more interesting when I get to live it, actually.”

The hand on his shoulder takes its time trailing to his face, and when it does, it tilts his jaw to the side. Draco’s eyes automatically slide shut.

“Oh, you will. Once you get used to the ‘undead’ part of it, life will be a joy to live.”

His hands shift against the grimy bricks, one seeking familiarity and warmth as it grips his other wrist, grounding him.

“You must’ve realized by now how anxious I am to have you by me, by us. If I’m not, I’d just pick you up from a club, drink from you, leave you behind that dumpster over there, and you’d wake up feeling hungover with no memory of me,” Edmund goes on, his face close. If Draco tries, he reckons he can swallow down the intoxicating spice of cologne wafting against his cheek. “But I’m not doing that, now, am I?”

Perhaps it’s not even cologne, perhaps it’s all Edmund.

“You see, the blood of mortals is our life force, yes, but few of them ever smell and taste like anything more than diluted shite. Blood like yours, though, that’s rare. Power like yours. That raw, untapped, repressed power hiding under masks and marks. Given enough time, enough resources, it can be brought forth, and you can prosper.

“It’d be a shame if all of what you are made of withers into nothing, don’t you think?”

Draco thinks and thinks. It’s all one can do when they’re held so firmly, quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple. Edmund kisses it away with false reverence, dotting another kiss behind Draco’s ear. Draco would have jolted if he has any energy left in him.

He realizes it now. Ever since the day Edmund’s gaze lingered a second too long, it was over. There is no one left to remember him, and if he ‘makes it easy’ for himself and says no, nothing will change. Sooner or later, he’d die without a purpose, alone.

What if he eliminates dying from the equation altogether?

He realizes it now. There has never been any choice.

Only one foggy, crooked path forward.

“Yes.”

Draco’s eyes open with a heavy drag, allowing in but a sliver of light. In the misty blurriness, he sees a smirk. One stark-white canine pulls the bottom lip inward, pierces through papyrus skin.

Draco’s vision darkens as red lips touch his. His nose clogs up for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the onslaught of scents and tastes. With every languid swipe of a clever tongue, copper as bitter as Charon’s obol forces its way into his mouth. A sharp needle of pain pricks his bottom lip. Draco flinches, tries to take a step back but the hand on his jaw keeps him close. One long finger sneaks into his mouth, prying it apart.

Swallowing the harsh tang of iron down, a rich, foreign sweetness floods his senses. It’s the nectar of late-June peaches and lingonberry syrup swirled in chamomile, coating his palate with a luscious glaze. A low moan escapes as his muscles relax. If it’s not for the steady hand on his stomach, Draco’s knees would have hit the dirty ground already.

“There we go,” Edmund whispers. His hands guide Draco to lean against him, back to chest, sending intermittent shivers to rack through Draco’s body. It’s cold, so cold, but he can’t pull away, just lets Edmund takes whatever he wants to take. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco gathers enough of his declining wit to argue. “Sounds like you’re calling a dog.”

“Ah, you’re cute. The Sisters will adore you.”

“Sisters...” Draco says, the furrow of his brow easily smoothened by another leisurely kiss.

“Sisters,” Edmund says. The hand on Draco’s jaw edges to his neck, thick fingers adding a slight squeeze to the vulnerable valley on either side of his Adam’s apple. Draco sighs into Edmund’s mouth. “Surely you don’t think there’s only one of us out there?”

Not very certain of what to say, Draco purses his lips instead. Edmund lets out an amused hum and indulges him, sucking on his bottom lip. It’s good, so good, until it becomes sickening, like raiding the entirety of Fortescue’s stockroom. Being a creature of the night is rapidly losing its novelty.

“Okay, enough, enough, thanks,” he says, tapping the muscular arm around him and turning away. Edmund only continues his little ministration below Draco’s jaw.

He doesn’t know how long his eyes have been closed, so he opens them once more. It’s like… it’s like he’s been floating on thick water and is only recently dragged into shore. Rubbing the creak out of his neck, Draco squints.

Past Edmund’s sturdy form and angular lines, out in the main street, the thin crowd of pedestrians pass by in chattering groups and pairs. Opposite to the alley, however, one lone figure stands just out of reach of the street lamp. The yellowish light merely suggests their existence as they lean against the restaurant Draco and Edmund exited from earlier. The bright tell-tale red of a cigarette butt is visible but other than that, no detail to be discerned. Looks like someone who’s just minding their own business.

“You must think yourself funny,” Draco says, arching his neck to accommodate the kisses peppering his skin, “using my own shame against me. I doubt people even remember there’s an alleyway here.”

“Don’t forget that when a being has lived for as long as I have, has accumulated this much power, nine times out of ten, he knows what he’s saying. I’m powerful enough to catch the scent of every mortal walking by, even know if they’re actually mortals or not. Our little voyeur? He’s still here. He’s watching. He’s waiting for you, doll.”

Edmund pauses, then:

“And whether he’s a mortal? That remains to be seen.”

Draco pushes away as far as Edmund’s firm grasp allows, which is only a few centimeters away. Whatever his blood did with Draco’s own, it snaps him awake with startling clarity just as swiftly as when it’s reduced him to a little more than a rag doll. Everything is so sharp it’s almost disgusting, like his eyeballs are gouged out, scrubbed clean, then shoved back in again. Draco locks his legs, willing himself not to stumble.

“That makes no goddamn sense,” he says.

“You don’t feel them now, but wait until they set in,” Edmund tries to tug him back, shrugging when he doesn’t obey. “Your abilities. We’ll go back to the House of Collective tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I,” Draco says. “Please say that again. With actual information.”

“So demanding,” Edmund leans back and looks at Draco like he’s seeing him for the first time, a hint of humor in his serene demeanor. “The House of Collective is where the majority of us in Britain frequent and reside. The newly Turned are brought there to be with their brethren. Trying to deal with these new abilities alone is what makes them go Rogue and lands them on the front page. Think Jeannette McDermott, the poor woman.”

Jeannette McDermott drained and devoured 6 people in a single weekend. The Aurors got to her first before the news outlets. Being a shut-in and hating being perceived in general—Merlin knows how she got bitten in the first place—the only pictures ever taken of her as an adult was of her mangled body, torn by her own claws and twisted into stillness. It was a once-in-a-century scandal that paralyzed Wizarding Europe for 2 months straight.

Draco frowns. “I’ve always wondered. How did she—why wasn’t she brought back to the House, then?”

“That’s what irresponsible Turning looks like. If we want to Turn someone, it must be carefully considered and planned, for there must always be more prey than predators. Such is the law of nature,” Edmund says it like it’s a walk in the park rather than changing people’s entire lives. “Deacon Frangos was careless—amateur little weakling—and wanted something more thrilling than, say, going to clubs for gullible drunks.

“During the official trial at the House, he confessed that he spent days working through her wards and broke in. Never expected that McDermott was a fighter. She couldn’t get to her wand, but she did have a knife. She stabbed him 3 times as he was drinking from her. Their blood mixed, and Frangos ran off to lick his wounds before we found him. That was Friday.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Draco breathes, “that quick?”

Edmund only looks at him, silent as he waits for Draco to weigh his decisions. Or lack thereof.

“What about, what about my apartment? My things?”

“You’ll only be at the House of Collective until we get you accustomed to your new life, then you can return home. Or,” Edmund tilts his head to the side, “you can stay. It’s akin to a commune, there’s space for all. It’s in the middle of the woods, too, hidden behind extensive wards and Charms, very private. Don’t you love your privacy?”

“What, do you live there?”

“Yes! Just so you know, I built my own dwelling. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself. Marble floors, 5 balconies. Just added a new pool last month. Plenty of space to… christen, unlike your studio apartment.”

Edmund lets a casual grin grace his face, all jokes. Draco curls his lips. It’s a mystery for the ages as to how he’s ever found this man charismatic.

“I’d rather the, um, the studio apartment. It does have its charms. Checkered bathroom tiles, and, hmm, a working oven. I might paint the fireplace next week, who knows?”

“Big plans, big plans,” Edmund nods solemnly. “However, you will need to pay a visit at least twice a month for resources and news within the community. There are tons; we even have a matchmaking service so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to some bumbling mortal and worry about lifespans. Isn’t that so very neat? But, you already have me.”

Edmund shoots him a wink. If he’s not, well, Edmund, Draco might think it’s attractive.

“I think,” he starts. His neck is aching something fierce the longer he looks back, so he turns to face Edmund directly, “we need to have a talk about ending this entanglement.”

“My,” Edmund adjusts without trouble, interlacing his hands behind Draco’s waist, just above his bum. “Must you hurt me so? After all we’ve been through in the past three dates, you want to cast me aside?”

“Those three dates were nothing more than bouts of insanity. My apologies, I was in a moment of weakness and was somehow fooled by your… Merlin, I don’t even know. Basically, you were a passing fancy that I will rue ever having for the rest of my life.”

Edmund sighs and lowers his head until it’s nestled where Draco’s neck joins his shoulders.

“My 161st love has broken my heart. Oh, how can I recover from this pain?”

He lifts his head up, meeting Draco’s unimpressed gaze with a smirk. “Perhaps one last kiss will be the balm I need. Come on, just one more for closure.”

Draco gnaws his bottom lip and wets the still-throbbing cut on it. Then, he rolls his eyes, sliding them shut. No big deal.

“You’re so generous, Draco,” purrs a deep voice right at the corner of his mouth. Draco parts his lips, breathing in the hushed words. “Can’t say I won’t miss this. Your blood truly is a delicacy.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Sweet, sweet wine.

Draco sags against Edmund’s strong chest, head lolled to the side, panting. They have stopped before it got too much this time, yet Draco still teeters over the edge of insanity with every suckle of lips, every caress of tongue. Edmund has been gentle, large hands cupping Draco’s face like he’s a priceless treasure made of opals and emeralds, combing through the slightly wavy hair Draco has grown out. He has fixed Draco’s shirt as he plucked off every scrap of sense remaining in Draco’s head, has stroked the purple marks in bloom, and covered them with the bomber jacket.

As Draco clutched those broad shoulders and wrinkled the expensive fabric adorning them, he had half a mind to demand Edmund to be rougher, to stop trying to savor it. Stop making it something to go breathless over.

Toying with the shiny button on Edmund’s wool suit, he reminds himself that it was smart to end whatever they had between them. Otherwise, he can see himself becoming addicted, and such a problem has no place in his life.

“It’s getting late,” he says. The street outside is still bustling with people, bursting with sound. The person leaning against the wall opposite is lighting up a new cigarette.

“Oh, doll,” Edmund hugs him tight. “Darling. You’re right, it’s getting late. ”

They stand there for a few moments more nonetheless, clutching each other. Then Draco sees it. Sees him.

As if on cue, the person straightens from their position against the wall. They step forward, one foot after the other, slack and loose, into the buzzing light. Draco can’t observe intricate details from this far away—has to wait until tomorrow, apparently—but he still has eyes.

A pair of snickering women stroll by, and the street seems empty for a split second. It’s enough for Draco to see large, black boots (Dragonhide, the part of his brain that never forgets Mother’s fashion books notes) and dark, well-fitted pants stretching over thick thighs. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing dark arms with a myriad of pink-white scars. White button-up, wrinkled and stained, tied by leather harnesses crisscrossing at the chest, like the wearer has forgone changing after work and instead hurried off to deal with an urgent task. An unusual outfit for urban London, but somehow, it works.

Left hand tucked in a pants pocket, the other tapping the fine ash from a cig into a puddle on the concrete. It lifts to hover in front of full, waiting lips. One sleepy bloke trudges by, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. A hazy billow of smoke spills forth lazily as the bloke walks out of view, opaque clouds masking an expressionless face before disintegrating into the night.

“Doll.”

Draco glances back at Edmund, who is staring at his lips. His hands run tiny circles over the small of Draco’s back.

“We decided on one kiss.”

“I know,” Edmund’s thumb swipes over the cut, as soft as a brush dipping into paint. “There’s still blood.”

“Obviously,” Draco says with a slight snort, “you bit it. Like a brute.”

Edmund’s reply comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the cut as if wanting to both stopper the blood and squeeze it out. Draco assists by opening his mouth, slipping the finger into moist warmth. And for some godforsaken reason, his eyes travel back to the street beyond.

This time, both hands are in the pants pockets. The cigarette has stopped its light bouncing, now lying still between pillowy lips. Like before, the voyeur is a statue amidst a sea of movement.

Draco swirls his tongue against the pad of the thumb, tasting himself and gulping it down. It’s bitter and sour without Edmund’s blood to sweeten it up, but he keeps licking until all he can feel is the saltiness of skin, the clenched fistful of his jacket against his hip, and—

And green.

“It’s getting late,” Edmund whispers against his forehead, his lips a touch away from kissing his fringe.

Letting the finger fall from his mouth, Draco whispers back.

“Okay.”

The voyeur never stops looking. Draco knows because neither does he.

“We’re never doing this again.”

Draco’s eyes glide back to Edmund. “I never thought you’d be the one to say that.”

“Me, too. But I’m serious,” the man says, but doesn’t clean his finger. “From now on, we keep our hands to ourselves.”

“And mouths.”

“Yes, those especially.”

Draco huffs out a laugh, “Okay. Very well. I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement.”

Edmund shakes his head, then blinks. He looks up at Draco, mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, Draco, you’ve done enough for the night.”

“Pardon?” Draco says, sliding his arm into the crook of Edmund’s. “You Side-Along us.”

“Of course, and I meant. Merlin, you’ve done quite enough. Oh, goodness, that’s pungent.”

Edmund pats Draco’s hand on his forearm and leans toward his ear.

“Say goodbye to him.”

Draco’s fingers tighten around Edmund’s arm in warning. He doesn’t say ‘goodbye,’ but he does look to the street light opposite the alleyway. Before the Apparition wrenches all the thoughts out of his head, Draco vows not to think about the expression on that face.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry microfic #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #original male character #vampire #vampire draco #auror harry potter?#cursebreaker?#who knows #cigarette #how long can nancy go w/o writing the word ‘vampire’ challenge #there’s no particular purpose for that btw i just wanted to make things hard for myself #‘oh man i dont think im really that comfy w the idea of writing drarry being intimate just yet’#solution: shamelessly abusing the drarry tag to write about another pair that’s not even endgame #had a lot of fun writing edmund #was planning for this to be a lil sexy vampy moment then BOOM plot idea #wait why did i just realize that the house of collective sounds like a house’s name in ballroom culture #ykw it’s very fitting in fact vampires are all very queer #joonkorre writes

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sylverstorms · 4 years

Text

Forbidden Fruit

Pairing: Priya x MC (Rose) x Kamilah

Warnings: Heavily! NSFW aka pure sin. Minors, avert your eyes. The rest, prepare to be tainted.

Words: ~1800

A/N: Another request fic, I hope it’s everything you wanted. Enjoy!

Prompt by:

Loud bass. Strobe lights. The comfort of alcohol.

Questionable choices.

Those were the only things Rose was aware of as she raised the forth shot of the night to her lips and downed it in one go. A trail of fire slipped down her throat, its burn more tolerable by the minute. The empty glass was pushed towards the bartender with a vague gesture for a refill. The handsome man regarded her cautiously for a moment, the ‘you sure this is a good idea?’ type of look, before complying.

Of course, Rose was sure.

She was certain going to Priya’s club to drink, dance, let loose and forget how shitty her life had gotten within the last months was most definitely not a good idea. Adrian had warned her to stay away from ‘that place’, Kamilah had pretty much forbid it. Which was exactly what made Rose go, in the end, against all common sense.

Defiance was as sweet and toxic as the tequila slipping down her system.

Perhaps Kamilah would know –she probably would and Rose was counting on it— the following days and be irritated over it. The secretary dared even hope upset, but that was a long shot for the stone-faced ancient. She was fine with getting even just a mild rise out of her. Anything, other than the cold-shoulder treatment the queen had been giving her, as of late.

‘This won’t work for us. It’s too dangerous. It was a mistake.’ Kamilah had said. Only she’d said it a tad too late, after the human had gone and developed feelings for her she was stupid enough to think were returned.

“Ah. I thought I smelled something delicious.” A familiar voice came from behind, light and throaty.

Rose made to turn around to meet its owner, but a cold, unyielding body blocked her movement. Priya, as always, had zero regard for personal space. Rose hated that she never quite hated it. The designer’s expensive, chocolaty perfume and subtle hair conditioner were impossible to ignore, even over the many scents of the club. Impossible to dislike. The human caught herself breathing in a little deeper.

“And what are you doing here, little bird, so far from the safety of the nest?” Full, dark lips leaned tantalizingly close to her ear.

“Well, it is a club…” Rose gestured, greatly appreciative of the liquid courage in her veins. She couldn’t push Priya off if she tried, so she didn’t even attempt it. Merely turned back to her drink, trying –failing— to ignore the fingers playing with the very tips of her wavy hair. Come on, Rose, you’re drunk enough to focus on the shot…

“That it is.” Priya slipped from her back to her side, casually leaning against the counter, never too far.

Rose shouldn’t feel the loss of contact so acutely. She willed her eyes to stay glued on her drink, but they didn’t obey, turning of their own volition to the designer, in awe of how good her silver dress looked against her caramel skin. She glowed like an angel. Or, more accurately, like a demon in the guise of one.

Priya raised her long fingers in a deliberately slow motion, knowing, too well, she held every bit of Rose’s attention. She took a sprinkle of salt between them, then turned to lick at her other wrist, never breaking eye-contact with Rose. The secretary had to hold her breath, while an ache settled low in her stomach. She pressed her thighs a little tighter together. Priya dropped the salt onto her wrist and held a lime between her teeth with a sexy little wink.

Her arched eyebrow was a challenge; ‘do you think you can play?’

Rose shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. Indulgence with Priya was fatal, but she made temptation so difficult to resist. The secretary did not shy away from the hunger in her eyes. She leaned in, licking the salt off the designer’s smooth skin, lingering just a tad over non-beating veins. Then she downed her shot… and went for the lime.

Priya smirked as the secretary sucked on it, both loving its sourness and loathing the fact it was between them. The vampire fixed the problem for her, taking the lime off her mouth to replace it with her lips.

Oh. Rose’s brain halted.

She didn’t think it was possible for a kiss to feel so slippery and so good, but the way Priya moved, the way her tongue coaxed hers only to leave her wanting more, proved otherwise. Cold hands once again framed her waist, crushing their bodies together, sharp nails digging in.

Rose hissed from the sting, but Priya only chuckled, following her for another prolonged liplock. By the time she pulled back, the secretary could barely stand. She was pretty sure there would be crescent marks on her skin the next morning, but they were not as insistent an ache as the one between her legs.

The vampire seemed to notice, her gaze an abyss as she stared at Rose, ready to devour her. Her fingers closed around her wrist in a vice grip, pulling, too fast, towards the back room.

“Stop right there.” A growl came from behind them, halting their steps.

Rose whipped around to see Kamilah, far more agitated than she’d ever imagined. There were ominous shadows around her eyes, a petrifying coldness to her aura. She was furious, like a wildfire about to burn everything to the ground. Holy…

Priya, however, only laughed. Her chin dropped to Rose’s shoulder, an arm around her waist. “And why would I, stick-in-the-mud? Have you forgotten this is my kingdom?”

“It’s my human you’re laying hands on.” Kamilah took another step forward, a clear warning. Rose gulped. That was terrifying…ly Hot, her horny brain added. “Drop them before you lose them.”

“Yours?” Priya smirked challengingly. “I don’t see your mark on her.” she guided her hair out of the way to make her point. “I don’t smell your scent.” she said it against Rose’s neck, just to anger Kamilah further. “But she’s a big girl. If she doesn’t want to have fun with me, she can walk away before it begins.”

“Come, Rose. Let’s go.” Kamilah said.

But the secretary… wasn’t so sure. “You can’t just toss me and pull me back on a whim.” she stated. “If you’re going to let go, then let go.”

Priya smirked victoriously and began leading her to the next chamber with deceptive gentleness. Backward steps, so she could gloat at Kamilah’s look all the way.

The vampires feeding on their every desire in the Red Room looked up with hungry eyes when the pair passed them by, but the look their clan leader gave them was an order in itself –‘this one is for me alone’.

The final room was a decadent space filled with dark tiles and black sheets, a wardrobe Rose wasn’t sure she wanted to open out of fear of what it contained and a four-poster, queen-sized bed whose purpose was clear. There were no windows. No means of escape.

“Welcome to my sanctum, doll.” Priya spoke by her ear, from behind. A cold finger traced across her shoulders, to the zipper of her dress. The human shivered. “Now come, let me see you.” The fabric pooled, crimson as blood, at Rose’s feet. The designer’s lips latched onto her neck as though they couldn’t wait to drink from it. “Let me taste you.”

Rose could only moan at the feel.

Half a second later, the room was spinning; she was pushed onto the bed and harshly pinned there. The vampire, out of her own dress and clad only in black, lacy lingerie, pushed up between her legs, biting underneath her jaw with blunt teeth. Rose bit her lip not to cry out, but she was certain she’d already stained through her white underwear and her control over her body’s primal cravings was fading fast.

Priya pulled back to regard her with glowing red eyes. Rose wanted to commit the wild beauty to memory, though wasn’t given time to. The designer moved fast, ducked, pushed twin needles into her skin.

Rose really did cry out, then.

The sensation was different with every vampire, but no less addictive for both parties involved. Priya hurt, at first. A lot. Enough to drive the human to tears. Then all the cutting chill and pain shifted into boundless pleasure, mind-numbing, toe-curling, deep and so very dark. Rose wanted to push her fangs deeper into her veins, as far in as they would reach. She was already on the edge of her orgasm…

When Priya’s head was extracted from her neck.

Rose was shocked to see Kamilah there, fangs bared and hissing, followed by the younger vampire’s animalistic growl. And yet, somehow, even the sight of Priya with her fangs stained red and trails of blood down her chin only served to ignite Rose further.

It occurred to her they were one step away from pouncing on each other, so she did the only thing she could.

She pushed herself up and between them.

Priya’s eyes flitted from her body, to her wound, to Kamilah. The elder queen leaned down to lick the blood as though she couldn’t help herself. Rose groaned. Then the designer was pressed to her front once more, tipping her chin up to kiss down her throat, a slender finger hooking into her panties and pulling them to the side.

Rose had no time to wonder what was happening. Everything was touch and slippery chill and heat and she couldn’t tell who was caressing her where. Kamilah’s nails moved up her thighs. Her fangs barely prickled at a lower spot on her neck. Priya was toying with her center, lips and tongue at her breast.

“I –ah!— I can’t—!” she panted –cried?— one hand finding purchase on Kamilah’s hair, the other on Priya’s shoulder. She was burning with the need to crumble into pieces in their arms. To come all over Priya’s fingers while Kamilah was biting her, but she wasn’t even certain if she could take that—

Both vampires moved, then. Two sets of fangs sank into opposite sides of her jugular and Rose lost her mind, her body, the bed beneath her knees. She screamed against the tidal wave of pleasure, coating and clenching around Priya’s fingers. It was too much, otherworldly, enough to shatter her mind.

Her orgasm felt never-ending… until the world started to grow dark.

Kamilah was the first to pull away, then pushed at Priya to stop. The designer leaned back with a satisfied hum, licking her full lips. Her sexy smile and red eyes were hypnotizing in the blur settling over Rose’s mind, the exhaustion crawling across her limbs…

Her eyes began to droop. Her body to fall. Kamilah’s hand curled around her head and gently guided her to the plush pillows. Rose fought down the urge to surrender to sleep, yet it was overpowering.

The echo of Priya’s soft, insistent mouth and Kamila’s caring, firm touch followed her to the land of dreams.

#BloodBound #pixelberry #priya x mc #kamilah x mc #priya lacroix #kamilah sayeed #fanfic #request #SIN #YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED #Priya is absolutely a LI don't even lie to me about it #the potential for the true villain unhealthy-to-mostly-healthy romance cannot be wasted #fanfiction

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addictedtostorytelling · 3 years

Note

Not really sure they’ll be a question here but sometimes I think about Grissom’s cowboy interest, and that this interest comes from Tarantino (and maybe you disagree, i guess it could still track as an interest of his even without the Tarantino element). It’s canon now so there’s not much to say I guess but i just think that’s so cool/strange. When I saw once upon a time, I clocked the trigger reference and got a bit excited lol.

Maybe I wonder what Grissom thinks of Tarantino movies lol. Any thoughts?!

hi, anon!

i mean, while our first concrete evidence of grissom's love of cowboys and cowboy culture does come from episode 05x24 "grave danger" pt. i, which tarantino wrote and directed, i do think there are many more references to him being an aficionado throughout his time on the series, so there's certainly more to it than just a one-off tarantino invention; other writers chose to keep and refine that trait in grissom going forward.

and, personally, i like that they kept and refined it, as i think it's a trait that makes a lot of sense for him to have, not only because he grew up during the heyday of cowboy media in the us, when many a kid wanted to be a cowboy—just ask @bartramcat—but also because the cowboy is often framed as a solitary figure, a laconic man at one with his purpose, which i think is something that speaks to grissom's soul.

i also like to think it’s a little bit of a nod to billy’s pre-csi career of playing cowboys in the movies.

as for the tarantino thing, i don't think he likes tarantino movies or even has probably seen many (or possibly even any) of them.

based on various comments from him over the years, we know grissom's preference is for classic and even silent films (see his comments to catherine in episode 03x19 "night at the movies"), that he tends to hold golden age movie stars like clark gable in much higher esteem than current ones like the csiverse's fictional tom haviland (see episode 03x02 "the accused is entitled"), and that he doesn't know or recognize many new movie stars on sight. i think the most recent movie we ever hear grissom directly reference is the big chill, which came out in 1983 (see episode 05x13 "nesting dolls").

all of that so, i can't imagine that tarantino, as someone who is very "new hollywood," is even really on his radar, and neither are his movies.

moreover, even beyond the fact that tarantino's movies are too new for his tastes, given that grissom tends to have "his face in death all day," i don't suppose that the violence that is tarantino's hallmark would really appeal to him, either—not only in the sense that watching a typical tarantino gore-fest wouldn't offer him any sense of escape or reprieve from the violence that saturates his real everyday life* but also in the sense that, even knowing it was meant to be stylized, he'd find it all annoyingly unrealistic, and much like a doctor watching a medical drama or a historian a period piece, he'd likely sit there grousing about all of the beats that the film got wrong ("that's not how the blood spatter from a decapitation would really look," "that wound couldn't actually kill that guy instantaneously," etc.).

* as lady heather points out in episode 02x08 "slaves of las vegas," grissom is drawn to the "trappings of civility," as he spends his life uncovering what goes beyond its boundaries ("it's a release for you to indulge in something like high tea when it seems, if only for a moment, the world really is civilized").

on top of everything else, i don't get the impression that grissom probably sees a lot of movies just in general (or at least not new releases playing in the theaters), just given his workaholic lifestyle and the fact that, for a long time, he doesn't really have anyone to go to the movies with.

and even once he's with sara, i doubt that she's a big tarantino fan.

all of the above so, unless at some point over the last few years he's maybe by chance caught a part of django unchained or the hateful eight on cable on a saturday afternoon and kept it on for a while because cowboys, i doubt he could even probably name a tarantino flick if asked.

that's just my take, though.

ymmv!

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: grissom #let's talk shop #csiverse

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH85

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 85: Castle Cry (XII)

As if he had suddenly lost his soul, Qi Leren didn’t move for a long time. This unspeakable fear that was more terrible than any mortal danger came not from a threat, but from the fear of the unknown.

Countless messy pictures flashed in his mind: he downloaded Nightmare Game, he tried it out absentmindedly, he was depressed after the computer went black, he took the computer and sat on the bus to get it fixed... He woke up in the hospital.

From that day on, his life took a wrong path. He was injured, died and then came back to life. This "gift" of resurrection did not make him feel lucky, but only formed in him deeper and deeper pain.

Every night, he would wake up from nightmares of countless deaths, sweating and panicking. Those painful deaths engraved in the soul were like wine. The longer time went on, the stronger they became. When his human reason rested in his sleep, it made a comeback with a grimace of a grin. He didn't even know when this life would come to an end. Maybe he would have a nervous breakdown before he found a way to leave the game.

But for now, he could hold on a little longer... Hold on a little longer.

Qi Leren's fingers gently touched the laptop in the drawer. It looked so familiar that even the scratches from him accidentally bumping it were still there. He took it out as calmly as possible, together with the balled up power cord.

At the bottom of the drawer, there was a red-brown blood line of text - keep the secret.

Qi Leren stared at this line of words, which faded slowly and disappeared into the wooden drawer, leaving a colorful egg.

[Easter Egg: Players who hold colored eggs will be resurrected and have all skills and items returned after seven days if they die with their bodies intact. If the player holds other resurrection props or skills, the order of using an Easter Egg is last. 1/1 remaining usage times.]

This item... Qi Leren was shocked to hold the Easter Egg. How could this resurrection prop be so simple? This was absolutely... Absolutely not normal!

He should seriously think about it again, at least think about why he suddenly got this resurrection prop, but at this time his head was filled with this inexplicable laptop, and he could only cram things into the item bar hastily, without thinking again.

The laptop was in my hand, cold and heavy. Qi Leren turned it over with trembling hands and pressed the power-on button. This time it turned on normally as if it had never been broken. When the Nightmare Game icon appeared on the desktop, Qi Leren couldn't help shivering. He didn't even know if he should click on the game icon again.

What would happen? Would all of this be a dream?

Just when he was at war between instinct and reason, the prompt of "battery depleted, shutting down" appeared on the screen, and the laptop just turned off and shut down again.

The screen was completely dark, and Qi Leren just stood on the ground without moving for a long time.

Who on earth was it? Or something, guiding him? He clearly had lost the laptop in the outside world, then it unexpectedly appeared in this ordinary copy, and the line of a blood prompt in the drawer disappeared, after wanting to tell him what?

He felt that he knew nothing and didn't want to know. Can you run away from everything without knowing anything?

Even knowing that this was a dangerous road, he still had to keep moving forward…

Determined, Qi Leren put the laptop back in his inventory, and he would ask Chen Baiqi to find out how to solve the power supply problem after returning to the Village of Dusk. He vaguely remembered that someone in the Village of Dusk had made a transformer to solve the problem that the standard voltage of the Village of Dusk was different from the real world, with the purpose of charging his mobile phone that was brought into the Nightmare World from the real world with the power of the Village of Dusk. But only objects in the real world could be brought into the Nightmare World. After that, no matter which copy world, those objects originating from the copy world couldn’t be brought into the Nightmare World, so even if there was a copy with a future high-tech world, those coveted weapons and items couldn't be brought back to the Nightmare World. He didn’t know whether this computer in his hand would be considered as brought in from the real world or from the copy world; if it was the latter…

Qi Leren had a faint hope that it was the latter, but he felt that he couldn’t find computers and Easter Eggs from the "people" in front of him in this world, as they didn’t fit with this setting. This laptop should be able to follow him back to the Nightmare World.

After calming down, Qi Leren checked the basement again. After confirming that there were no more clues, he picked up the mobile phone that had fallen to the ground at the beginning. It had no power, but when he returned to the Village of Dusk, he would consider buying a charger made by players.

Before he left, Qi Leren looked back at the crazy lady again. The boss itself didn't bring him any reward, which made him a little disappointed. However, he shouldn't have much expectation for a copy of a D-level difficulty task - although he felt that his D-level difficulty was a little different from the normal concept of a D-level difficulty... Instead, there was a resurrection prop in the dark! The origin of this prop was strange, and the laptop... It was chilling.

Climbing up the iron ladder, Qi Leren pushed up the iron grate of the cellar, but the iron grate didn’t move. He tried again, and the cellar door moved slightly, but it seemed to be pinned down by something and couldn’t be pushed up at all.

"Hello, is anyone there? Open the door!" Qi Leren knocked on the iron grate and shouted.

Through the iron grate, he heard Dr. Lu's voice, vague but full of life: "What? Are you still alive?!”

"Lu Cangshu, whom I rely on, have you locked the iron grate!"

"Of course, what if you die below and the boss rushes out?"

"...Your ancestors! Open the door! " Qi Leren instantly forgot the heavy mood just now, and scolded while banging the grate.

"In order to prevent any monsters who have possessed you from deceiving me with your voice, I want to ask you three questions before opening the door. Please answer them carefully. I will not open the door if you answer them wrong." Dr. Lu said at the door.

"......Your sister!"

"First, what's your name?"

"Qi Leren."

"What's the name of your goddess?"

"...I refuse to answer."

"Don't evade questions and answer them seriously, or I won't open the door."

"Well, he's called Ning Zhou, and he's a man."

"I once summed up your story in one sentence, please repeat it again."

"...Two straight men who will eventually become gay have a lily* love to free themselves."

*{E/N: slang for lesbian}

"The answer is correct!"

Dr. Lu outside the door opened the lock for him happily. At the moment when the iron grate opened, Qi Leren popped out like a rabbit. He pressed Dr. Lu to the ground with his dagger on his forehead and looked down at him: "Lu, Cang, Shu, are you ready to die?"

Dr. Lu was shocked and said, " I have something to say! Can you not do it?"

Qi Leren patted his cheek with the side of the dagger and asked combatively, "What do you think?"

"You see Nan Lu has been scared away, and I risked my life waiting for you here. What a noble sentiment and comrade* friendship! Although it’s not very kind to lock the door, it’s also for safety reasons. I ask you not to kill!" Dr. Lu said unintelligently.

*{E/N: slang for gay}

Qi Leren frowned: "Nan Lu ran away? When?"

"Well, after you fell down and closed the cellar door, she let out a scream and ran away," Dr. Lu said.

Qi Leren put away his dagger and was not in the mood to continue to scare Dr. Lu. He got up and said, "The boss has been solved. It was indeed the crazy lady. I also found a demon sacrifice. Take it with you..."

Dr. Lu took over the third devil's sacrifice, opened it, and was suddenly disgusted by the blood gas coming from his face: "Mom, eyeball!"

"It should be the crazy lady's eyeball, her right eye had only a bloody hole, which could manipulate the shadows. When I first went down..." Qi Leren simply said what happened in the basement again. Of course, he skipped over the seed, only saying that he killed the crazy lady, and he didn’t mention a word of the laptop and the Easter Egg, but told of the moving doll.

"It seems that Mrs. Sarah really was crazy, and that Nina, she was quite loyal to Mrs. Sarah..." Dr. Lu said with emotion. "Oh, the injury on your head looks a bit miserable. Do you want me to treat it for you?"

Qi Leren touched his head that had stopped bleeding: "Forget it, no dizziness or nausea, it’s nothing serious."

"There shouldn’t be a concussion, then," Dr. Lu said.

"Let's go and see where Nan Lu went," Qi Leren said. He walked out of the kitchen with Dr. Lu and headed for the direction of the hall.

"Bong-bong-bong-bong-" The four bells rang, and the castle quickly changed decades with the bells, becoming old and dilapidated, and the wooden board under his feet became crisp, making a creaking sound when walking on it, and the beautiful sculptures and ornaments around them were covered with a thick layer of ash, with traces of burning.

"The boss has been solved now, can we go back? But why is there no system prompt?" Dr. Lu asked.

"The task prompt is for us to leave the castle. We haven’t left yet, so we haven’t completed the task," Qi Leren guessed.

"Oh, that makes sense... look Qi Leren!" Just then, Dr. Lu's flashlight shone on the position of the door, and the thick door that had disappeared unexpectedly appeared again!

"Can we go out?" Qi Leren also was surprised.

"It really is a simple task." Dr. Lu said excitedly, and the two people walked quickly to the wooden door.

Rhythmic footsteps came from far behind, like the sound of shoes stepping on the floor and the crisp sound of a walking stick beating rhythmically on the ground.

The two people looked back at the same time: on the curved stairs, someone holding a delicate candlestick in one hand and a cane in the other hand came down from the stairs.

In the dim candlelight, dressed in an English-style three-piece suit, the gentlemen smiled at them: "Good evening. We meet again."

In the ruined castle, he suddenly appeared like a light, illuminating this dead danger zone.

"Su He?!” Qi Leren and Dr. Lu called out the name of the person with a single voice.

Su He smiled and nodded to them, and said gently: "Seeing that the name of the investigation task is ‘Castle Cry’, I also specially changed to a costume that matches the name of the task. I didn't expect it to be superfluous."

"Is there a bug in this task?" Dr. Lu immediately realized why Su He was here. It must be because this task, like the Novice Village, was abnormal.

A bug? Qi Leren's heart suddenly beat faster. What could be called a bug here…

It was in his inventory.

Su He nodded with a smile and walked down the stairs with the cane. Under the light of the candles, the perfectly handsome him appeared like a vampire who had just woken up in the dark night, elegant and calm, and powerful. He stood in front of the two men and looked at Qi Leren without a trace. The cool and gentle voice sounded in the dark, just like a violin playing on a moonlit night: "If it is convenient, I want to talk with the two of you, alone."

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Editor’s Notes: The Easter egg introduced in this chapter is a reference to BMBL’s other trilogy The Easter Egg Game, which is currently being translated by Veraluctranslations!

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

Unintended Purpose (Part III)

Pairings: As Of Yet; Unknown

Warnings: - Swearing - Slavery (Whether Characters Realise It Or Not) - Physical Abuse / Manipulation

Words: 2018

Enjoy!

SMACK!

Hank’s head was whipped to one side, his mind reeling for a few short seconds as he comprehended the blow to his cheek. A sting had begun to blossom there, the feeling of heat welling up on the right side of his face a minor physical pain.

It hurt more to see Renee so close to crying.

‘Are you kidding me, Hank?’ Her hazel eyes were blinking back tears, her face as red as his felt, gritting her teeth as if to keep herself from screaming. Hank had never seen her in such a state before; nothing had come this close.

‘I’m sorry.’ He stepped closer to her, hands raised to rest on her arms or shoulders. Anywhere he might touch and hold her. He didn’t want her upset; he hated seeing her hurt. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Well, you should have!’ She shirked his hands away, putting a few feet between herself and him. Her chest was heaving, the finest traces of her makeup running down from her eyes. The waterworks had broken.

‘You should have let me come with you! Not bought some homicidal android and allowed it into our home!’

‘Hon, I didn’t know. I thought you would be happy with the surprise; I wasn’t expecting it to have done something… like that.’ Admittedly, Hank was less furious or even upset by the discovery. He knew that machines could miscalculate; he saw it all the time at the precinct.

They would occasionally have issues with motor control and drop papers, coffee cups and, on the rare occasions, guns. Then, there were those that calculated how best to file or archive evidence, without consulting the officers first. Sometimes, there were others who were given conflicting orders between two sources, and had to determine who best to listen to. Often, those kinds of fuck-ups were the most damning; he had seen a number of assistance androids disappear out of the doors of the precinct and never come back.

‘Connor’, however, was a different case entirely.

Hank had heard the rumours of CyberLife creating police detectives and riot officer androids, but he had ignored it for the most part; secure with his own position. After all, for androids to take such an active role in the police force, it seemed a little too endangering. As if humans didn’t already trust androids enough to care for their young and sick, now they would be forced to trust them with their safety and lives.

Hank knew too many people that would have rioted for that. Gavin Reed came to mind.

However, ‘Connor’ had been given an active role by CyberLife, and had caused irreversible damage. He had his mind wiped and his programming for police work overridden with housekeeping duties. But, as ‘Connor’ had proven to them in the car ride home, he was not entirely clean of his previous coding.

Renee’s lips tightened, forming a thin, trembling line as she kept herself from shouting further. Both she and Hank wanted to avoid upsetting Cole, who Renee had ordered to his room so she could have a private conversation with Hank.

‘It’s not safe.’ She huffed, pushing strands of her black hair from her face. ‘I trusted you to buy a simple, housekeeping android. I didn’t much care about the price, so long as it was safe and… And not anything like that… Thing in the kitchen.’ She spat out those words, as if they were poison on her tongue.

‘I… I wanted to get someo- Something Cole would like. I let him choose, within reason. Or, at least, I thought it was. I figured, perhaps having an ex-police android would be an extra security measure; something else to keep Cole safe.’ He said, hoping to reason with her. Anything to calm her down even a little.

‘You were mistaken, Hank Anderson!’

Ouch. Never a good sign when she used his name like that. She had pulled away as far as she could from him and turned her back on him, leaving Hank just beside the bedroom door.

‘It’s hideous…’ She muttered.

‘What?’

‘It’s hideous too. You know, I thought we might get something that at least looked human too. How much did you pay for that doll out there?’ He opened his mouth to respond. ‘D-Don’t! Don’t answer that, Hank…’

‘Well, what do you want me to do?’

She turned to face him fully, sniffling a bit. Finally, she approached him. She moved forward until she could rest the crown of her head against his shoulder. He raised his arms again, wrapping them around her body and pulling her close. She was shaking.

‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’ His words were soft.

‘Get rid of it.’ She looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. She stood up on the tips of her toes, pressing a kiss to the underside of Hank’s jaw. ‘I want it out of our house. Go back to the CyberLife store and replace it. I don’t care what you replace it with, but don’t leave it here, Hank.’

He let out a breath, nodding his head. A small, sad smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She stepped away and took a seat on the bed, gesturing for him to leave.

And leave he did.

He opened the door to the bedroom, turned, and very nearly tripped over Cole. The boy was stood outside, Sumo hoisted up by Cole’s arms under his front legs, both of them looking up at Hank with wide eyes.

‘We’re not really getting rid of him, Dad. Are we?’

Shit.

Hank knelt down in front of them both, petting Sumo’s brown fur gently, and offering Cole an apologetic look.

‘I’m sorry, Cole.’ He felt his heart break when Cole’s lower lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. ‘Your mom and I- We don’t think ‘Connor’ is… Was a good choice. I’m taking him back to CyberLife.’

‘No! Dad, please! Don’t do that.’ Cole pleaded with him. Sumo was gently dropped onto all fours as Cole leaned in to hug tightly to Hank. ‘I don’t want ‘Connor’ gone. I want to keep him!’

‘We can’t do that.’

‘Why not?!’ He nearly shrieked. ‘Is it something he did? Is- Is it something I did?’

‘No!’ Hank pulled Cole’s head to his chest, nearly encompassing him entirely in his arms. ‘You did nothing wrong, Cole. Nothing… But… Your mom and I think that the android you chose may not be safe.’

‘But he was a police android…’

‘Yes.’

‘And police androids protect people…?’ Hank knew where this was going. He lowered his gaze, curtains of silver hiding his eyes from Cole. He couldn’t look him in the eye anymore without caving. Cole had always been very good at getting him to crack under pressure.

‘Yes, Cole. But this one didn’t. It hurt someone. Badly.’ His arms tightened around Cole and then released him. Sumo was pawing at the leather of his shoes, whining quietly. ‘The android needs to be returned. If not for your safety, then for your mother’s peace of mind.’

‘But I want to keep him.’

‘And do you want your mom happy?’ It was a low blow, Hank knew, but he needed to convince Cole to let this thing go. There was a sniffle, and then Cole slowly backed up, picking up Sumo in his arms once more, and began his defeated march back to his room.

Hank watched him go; watched how he practically slunk inside and shut the graffitied wood behind him, pencil sketches of superhero dad seemingly mocking Hank.

He stood, turning his eyes down the hall, landing on the problematic android in question, that stood stock-still where they had left him. Those brown eyes turned away from him; it had been watching them both. Hands behind its back, it seemed the part of an innocent bystander, unaware of the goings on at the far end of the hall.

Hank moved closer to it, standing before the android. In a way, what Renee said rang true; this thing looked much more machine-like than most androids. It seemed almost an amalgamation of shapes that created an uncanny valley look to it. A strong, square jaw, but offset by artificial baby fat in the cheeks. Wide, innocent, brown eyes, but with a furrowed brow, creating half a frown of sorts. The work of a police detective, but not with an athletic body for police chases or self-defence.

Its design simply didn’t make sense.

‘Connor.’ The android just looked at him, eyes flicking about his face as if he was judging Hank just like Hank did him. He stopped. ‘It’s time to go.’

‘Back to CyberLife?’

Hank simply nodded, gesturing to the front door. There was a minor, yellow blink in the LED, but the android simply turned on its heel and headed to the door. It even opened it up for Hank and gestured him out first, like the obedient machine it was made to be.

Hank had begun to follow it when he heard one of the bedroom doors open and Cole come sprinting back down the hall. He stepped between Hank and the door, holding his arms out wide in a defiant little stance, Sumo yapping up at the three of them.

‘Wait! Dad…’ He turned back to ‘Connor’, having tilted its head in curiosity once more. His eyes rested on Hank’s again. ‘Please! Can’t we keep him?’

Hank rolled his eyes a little, but knelt down before him once more. He rested a hand on Cole’s shoulder, shaking his head.

‘No. Cole, now, we just talked about this. I’m taking him back to CyberLife. Today.’ He had to remain firm. Cole shook his head violently, remaining where he was, hands outstretched.

‘Don’t take him, Dad!’ Hank heard another pair of feet, peering over his shoulder to see Renee in the hall, watching him. Cole looked between them for a moment, before running backwards and taking a grip on ‘Connor’s’ trouser leg. The android stumbled slightly, but did not otherwise move.

‘Please, Dad! Mom! Just…’ His hazel eyes were all over the place, thinking of excuses; any reason he might have to keep ‘Connor’ around.

‘No, Cole. That is final.’ Hank rumbled, a little frustrated. He stood once more, and pulled Cole away from ‘Connor’s’ leg, grabbing a hold of it by the lapel of its CyberLife uniform and beginning to drag it to the car.

Cole had begun to cry again.

‘Wait, Dad!’ Hank stopped, just to let Cole know he was listening. The chill of Autumn’s last days stung the skin of his hands and face. He had made up his mind. The android was going back to CyberLife, and nothing Cole said would change that.

‘C-Can’t we… Can’t we just keep him until my birthday is over?’ Hank cocked an eyebrow, turning back to look at his son. ‘Connor’ peered between the two of them, eyes locked on Cole’s tiny, trembling form.

‘Please! Just until my birthday is done!’ Hank peered between Cole on the doorstep, ‘Connor’s’ curious face, and Renee’s disapproving look. He felt a headache beginning to come on.

‘Once your birthday is over?’

‘Yes.’

‘No more excuses after that, right Cole?’ Cole shook his head again, practically bouncing on his feet; impatient. Hank looked up to Renee, who was giving him a heated look.

What are you doing? Her lips formed around the silent words with some anger, glaring daggers at Hank. Get rid of it!

Hank sighed. He would regret his decision either way.

‘Once your birthday is over, it’s going back. No more complaints, understand?’ Cole’s face broke into a wide smile as he raced across the icy pavement and hugged tight to Hank’s leg. Hank smiled down at him as Cole pulled away and, with an excited Sumo leaping up at the android, both boy and his dog guided ‘Connor’ back into the house.

Renee stepped away from the door, arms crossed and in a huff.

They could live with it for just a week.

And then it would be gone.

#DBH #Detroit: Become Human #RK800 #RK800 Connor #Hank Anderson #Cole Anderson #Fanfic #Fanfiction #HarcourtHolmesII

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weirdochick56 · 5 years

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Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Ten

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. Explicit language cause of course. Mild fluff. SMUT. Mild smut.

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only. Angst.

Word Count: 3, 716 words

A/N: omg Mr. E I is almost coming to an end!!😭😭😭

Read Chapter Nine Here!!

(GIF is not mine!)

“I want you to make love to me.”

He pauses at this, brow furrowed. A switch, faster than you can comprehend, happens and suddenly the raw look of lust evaporates from his face and he’s pushing you off of him softly.

And what he says next falls over you like a bucket of ice cold water. Shaking you awake, breaking you out of a dream-like state.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I-I can’t. Feel free to sleep in my bedroom, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.” And before you can so much as react, he’s rushing off, shoulder brushing lightly against yours on his way out and jolting you into awareness.

You’re too shocked to do anything at first. Maybe still lost in the feeling of his touch. Or maybe what could’ve been one of the most incredible experiences of your life. Because God, you knew it would be the most deliciously fulfilling experiences of your life. In your very bones, you fucking knew it would be.

But he can’t. Not even won’t, can’t...

His scent lingers, embracing you and comforting you a bit amidst the loss of his warmth.

You feel cold, empty. Rejected and pushed aside.

Your hands reach out to grab him, but all you get is air. The lust within you, the heat of the moment softly dwindles down, suppressed into your gut once more. Locked up into your chest and now only lightly-throbbing body. Unable to be released and felt and experienced fully. Unable to make you see stars.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins disperses and you suddenly feel like your legs can’t support your body weight. Too heavy. Too shaky. You stumble on your trembling legs and your back hits the wall behind you.

Your eyes flutter shut. You run a hand through your face as the fog clears from your mind.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You should have never asked him that question!

What have you done?

That night, you make your way to the house’s master bedroom- Mr. Evans’s bedroom.

You don’t need him to confirm to you that it’s his because it’s painfully clear as soon as you walk in, flicking the light on.

A small sad smile slowly tugs at your lips as you take in the room around you. It’s spacious and stays true to the rest of the house’s minimalist style but somehow feels warmer to you. Like home. Maybe it’s because it captures Mr. Evans’s essence so well, you can’t help but immediately feel safe and comforted.

He had three bookshelves filled to the brink with works of literature you’d heard him go on and on about during class.

With a tiny sigh, you drag your heels along and plop onto the soft mattress of his bed, staring deeply at the white wall in front of you.

In there, his scent was everywhere and it didn’t help your heartbreak whatsoever.

Because fuck, your heart was shattered.

He couldn’t go through with it. And now you don’t know if he even planned to from the beginning.

Your head spun with thoughts of what was about to happen but didn’t.

Were you just not pretty enough? Was your inexperience a problem for him? Why couldn’t he just have made you his? Nothing was holding him back, goddamit!

You sigh, more than just a little upset because you had to stay here when all you wanted was to leave with your tail tucked between your legs.

Now that you could think clearly, you realized what you were more than ready to give up. What you were wordlessly begging to give up to him.

Like some fucking bitch in heat.

He probably knew that you were more than willing to give yourself to him and had lost all respect for you and was pushing you-

Okay, Y/n. Chill. I mean, it doesn’t matter either way. You’ll get over the most embarrassing moment of your life eventually.

Yeah, sure, you chide sarcastically.

Wow. Is this really what it’s come to? Having conversations with yourself, Y/n?

You take a deep breath and groan when your dress insistingly itches and you just want to melt into the mattress and not have to think about anything anymore or you’d literally drive yourself nuts.

But that can’t exactly be helped when you don’t know what to do with yourself. This frustrates you endlessly. Y/n Y/l/n always knew what to do with herself. And the fact that you’re frustrated at something so fucking stupid and out-of-character just angers you.

So you furiously get up, throwing your heels onto the cream rug beneath your feet and briskly tugging your dress off, fingers shaking with rage.

You have no idea who you’re more pissed at, truthfully. You or Mr. Evans. I mean, it was partly his fault for making you feel so out of control, for chrissake! You- you couldn’t control yourself when you were around him, which is why you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Which just means you let your emotions control what you do and not your head.

And that’s why you say dumb shit like “I want you to make love to me.” Like, really?! What in the actual fuck were you actually thinking when you said that?!

“Stupid fucking-” you grunt when the dress gets stuck and tug harder.

“You’re gonna break it if you keep pulling on it like that, sweetheart.”

You jump at the sound of his velvety smooth voice, immediately spinning around to face him.

“W-what?” you sputter, cheeks reddening.

Mr. Evans sighs, closing the door behind him as he walks further in. “Here, just let me help you.”

“Don’t,” you whisper instinctively. “I got it.”

His gorgeous face falls into a sad expression. He steps forward again, hands slightly outstretched. “Sweetheart just let me help-”

“I’ve got it!” you snap.

He flinches at your outburst and you immediately feel bad. Here he is, lending you his place to stay in and here you are being a resentful, immature, child.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to make love to you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and tipping your head back. “I just-“

You bite your lip, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Finally, unable to keep your hurt on the down-low much longer, you explode.

“Why couldn’t you go through with it? Is it because of me? A-am I that undesirable?” You feel pathetic for practically whimpering the words out. So desperate to feel like you’re enough for a man like Mr. Evans when you know you’re not.

“Don’t,” he snaps intently, but once he sees your face, softens, exhaling heavily through his nose.

His face crumples and his shoulders sag, and yet his cool blue irises look at you in the eye with such a fierce kind of determination, goosebumps rise in your skin and your very bones heat up with their conviction.

“Don’t you ever think that there’s something wrong with you sweetheart. I just-“ his beautiful eyes flicker to your dress. “Here let me just help you out of that so you can get comfortable and we can talk, okay?”

You silently nod, spinning around as he walks towards you. Your heart races with anticipation for his touch and you fist the fabric of your dress into your hand tightly, scolding yourself for being so drawn to him. So instantly ready to give into him.

“Thank you.” His mumble is low and rough and his warm breath hits the back of your neck so softly, you can’t help but shiver under its feather-light caress.

His fingers are deft but hesitant as they loosen the bow of your dress. You wait for him to speak, heart racing at his proximity.

“I didn’t go through with it because I didn’t want to,” he finally whispers quietly, fingers pushing apart the dress.

At the newly exposed skin, Mr. Evans pauses, breath hitched. Your back is pressed against his firm chest so you can feel him when he shakily breathes out.

“Trust me, sweetheart. All I wanted to do was fuck you against that wall until you couldn’t walk,” he rasps.

You gulp harshly, feeling your cunt already beginning to throb back to life. “Then why didn’t you?”

It was insane how easy it was for him to drive you over the edge. All he had to do was say something like all I wanted to do was fuck you against that wall until you couldn’t walk in that powerful, husky voice of his and you were already more than eager to jump his bones.

His fingers trace delicately over your skin and you have to bite your lip in order to hold back a gasp of pleasure from escaping you. He touched you with such care--like you were a porcelain doll prone to breaking and he was terrified of being the one to ruin you.

If only he knew how much you fucking needed him to ruin you.

“Aside from the obvious? That what we’re doing is so fucking forbidden it’s literally against the law and that going through with what you make me feel could end me?”

He chuckles softly and without a trace of humor as he feels you tense under his touch.

“I already told you; you’re intoxicated, sweetheart. I couldn’t do that to you,” he whispers, fingers undoing more of your laces. “I couldn’t take advantage of you like that,” he whispers keenly and for some reason, you get the sense he means it in more than the present context.

Somehow, you think he means this in a more general sense.

You bite your lip harder, letting your head gently fall onto his shoulder. His eyes peer down at your and you look at him through your lashes innocently.

“Couldn’t you?” You inquire, cautiously pressing your ass to his dick.

He gasps at the sensation, soft pink lips parted in an almost scream.

Your panties soak through at the sight of him so affected by the mere press of your clothed skins.

“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers digging into your back.

You hiss with pleasure, trailing your hands in a deliberately gradual manner, creeping up his thigh higher and higher, inching closer and closer to the part of his body you craved most and craved you most.

“Because,” you purr. “I don’t feel so intoxicated.” You haze flickers it’s his mouth. So soft and tempting. So wet...

You barely recognize the person doing this. This person who’s letting her emotions guide her. Maybe you were still drunk (you were) or maybe you just couldn’t hold back on your feelings anymore. More so not that you knew they were reciprocated.

He bites his lip, eyes screwing shut as you barely graze his clothed cock with your fingertips.

“No,” he exhales through gritted teeth, firmly seizing your hand in his. His eyes look down at yours and you’ve never seen anyone look so delectably tortured in your life.

Your chest tightens with delight and you don’t understand why you like having this power over him so much.

“I can’t,” he murmurs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His eyes are alight with that same fiery emotion you seemed to bring out on him every time you were together.

That fire you wanted to burn you. That fire you craved to hurt you so good, all you’d want afterward was to feel its flames heating your skin.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful and tempting as hell, sweetheart. All I want to do is feel your warmth wrapped around me. I ache for my name to come from that pretty little mouth in screams. I want to leave you so spent, you won’t even be able to remember your own fucking name by the time I’m done with you.”

Your jaw drops and the pulsating of your pussy only intensifies at his words— so raw and filthy dirty and passionate. The picture he has painted for you is so utterly erotic and untamed that it only makes you crave the feel of having him inside you, stretching you, even more prominent.

“I want you. I want you in every way possible, you have no idea,” he breathes heavily, using his free hand to continue gently taking your dress off.

“But I can’t. I fucking can’t and it kills me that I can’t because for the last few weeks of my miserable life it’s all I can think about. All that fills up my brain is you. On my desk, on your knees on my bed...in my arms afterward. Full. Satisfied. Pressed against me, cuddling me. Holding eachother.” He speaks in curt sentences-- as if it’s laborious for him to describe.

Too much and too indifferent to your current situation to describe, almost.

Your chest aches with tortured sweetness and it also swells with an emotion far too overwhelming to describe.

You wanted him. All of him.

He presses a gentle kiss against your shoulder and reluctantly steps back as he undoes the last button.

You immediately yearn for his warmth, your skin exposed to the cool temperature of the house, but you hold onto the front of your dress so you don’t flash him as you turn to look at him.

You freeze when you see his face. It’s unexpectedly unguarded, distant, vulnerable. His brows are furrowed and his lips set in a straight line.

His eyes are devoid of much emotion, but they’re unwavering as they pin your own gaze down.

“If you want the blunt truth; I haven’t made love to anyone in a while, sweetheart. I’ve fucked, but that’s different. I simply don’t feel ready to make love yet,” he admits quietly.

You think about it for a second. He doesn’t want to do it the wrong way with you, you think. But that would imply he wants you for more than fucking and-

Stop overthinking, Y/n.

He sighs, looking down at his hands, which tremble in the slightest. “Every time I’m around you, it’s like I can’t control myself,” his voice shakes and he licks his lips nervously. His gaze drags right back up to yours. He’s concerned. Scared. “I just don’t want to do something that could end up hurting us both in the future.”

You contemplate this for a while, and nod in understanding, a soft smile on your face. You may not like it, but you understand it. Him. You always do.

“Hey,” you gently take his hand in yours and smile sweetly up at him. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry.” He smirks softly. “Sleep. You can use my clothes if you want to be comfier. They’re in the third drawer to the right.”

You nod, thanking him.

You expect him to leave but when you look up at him expectantly, he’s still in the same spot. His eyes are half-hooded, tracing over your exposed back with a silently lustful gaze.

You raise a smug brow at him, your lips quirking into a smirk.

He frowns confusedly at first but his face shifts into an expression of realization. He flushes and it takes everything in you not to burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh! Uh- yeah. Sorry. Uhm, sleep well, then sweetheart. I’ll be two rooms over i-if you need a-anything.” He goes to awkwardly shuffle out of his room before you stop him, hand gripping his bicep firmly.

He raises his brow questioningly down at you.

You smile shyly, biting your lip. “Sleep with me?”

He clears his throat, too taken aback for a few seconds to respond right away. “Uh- sweetheart I thought we went over thi-“

You rush to clarify, laughing bemusedly. “No. I mean sleep next to me. No love-making involved.” You hold your hands up in mock-defense. “Promise.”

He runs a hand through his beard. “I don’t know about this sweetheart... I mean, do you really think we can-”

You pout cutely, batting your lashes. “Please? I don’t wanna be alone.”

You really didn’t. Especially in a new place.

He’s very clearly hiding a smile at your antics when he clicks his tongue, acting like he’s seriously considering it. After a minute he sighs half-heartedly. “Fine.”

You beam, spontaneously grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his stubbly cheek without thinking.

He chuckles, shaking his head and delicately tracing his fingers over the spot where you kissed him. “I’ll let you change, then. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” And then he walks out.

Chris’s POV

Do you ever just make a set of small decisions that- before you even know it, build up into one huge snowball of an I’m-so-completely-fucked decision?

And these small decisions, they’re -- not so big at first. Don’t seem all that dangerous or like they’d build up into a whole avalanche of your worst mishaps falling on top of you and burying you up to your neck.

Like hugging the student you’d been having a weird attraction to from the moment you laid eyes on her to help her through a panic attack. Or kissing her afterward. Or maybe you showed up to a teenage party where literally anyone could recognize you to save her from a possible-rape because she called you drunk...and kissed her afterward. Or perhaps you’re so nice you offer her a place to stay for the night-- your home.

It’s innocent enough, but in the back of your mind, you know that it won’t end innocently. Or well, for that matter. Because you’re so attracted to her you literally can’t focus on anything else.

The thing is, I can’t call all these things mistakes. Mistakes aren’t purposeful, they don’t happen when you have all the information you could possibly need on the outcomes of your actions.

Y/n Y/l/n was not a mistake to me.

I knew exactly what would happen if I brought her over to my house. Hell, I knew what would happen if I continued being in the same goddam room as her.

It was this thing with us-- you just knew. No words needed. In the back of your mind, you just knew.

I tried to ignore that voice most of the time...because most of the time it said things that gave me false hope for something that could never happen.

Things like, we would end up together because that’s just how right it felt.

But I knew, the rational part of me knew, that that could never happen. It never would.

And yet- that little voice- it insisted. It was especially strong when it was just her and me.

Because she brought something out of me that I didn’t even know existed. Something that had been dead for a while and was now suddenly revived. A much more primitive instinct within me.

To protect her, to hold her, to want her like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.

And when something is instinct, it’s in your nature. And your nature is a part of you and I guess that meant she was...a part of me now.

I didn’t know what that meant, exactly. All I knew was that I was fucked.

Royally fucked.

She only proves me right though, when she comes down the stairs, clad in only my old Led Zeppelin band tee. The shirt was too big for her, falling softly against her milky thighs, hugging her gorgeous curves as she timidly walked towards me.

I wanted to chuckle at how adorably tiny she was in comparison to me. God, I just wanted to protect her from the ugly world we lived in. My chest clenches with an emotion yet unfamiliar to me. I didn’t know how to describe it, all I knew was that I suddenly had a sudden urge to hold her in my arms and never let go. To have her as close to me as possible for as long as possible.

This urge is overwhelming enough to make me have to shove my hands in my pockets.

Her make up was softly smudged and her hair was messy but framed her delicate face so perfectly and made her look so sexy, I could feel the breath get knocked straight out of my lungs.

She was perfect and it literally stumped me every time I saw her just how much.

God, I was so gross for feeling like this. For wanting to make her mine like this. And yet, I’d never felt so right and alive in my life.

Never felt so much that I could touch the sky with pure ecstasy.

“Mr. Evans?” her angelic voice interrupted my guilt-ridden thoughts.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” I smiled softly down at her.

She bites her lip and I can feel myself regret not taking her on the goddam wall as I feel my dick get hard again.

She hesitates to ask the question, and I see her pretty eyes flicker over my face— trying to read me —before she sighs.

“I just-“ she licks her lips. “Are we crazy? For this, I mean. Are we absolutely insane?”

I think about it. Yes. Yes we are. But I’m not letting her know I think that.

“No,” I respond, keeping a straight face.

She raises an unconvinced brow, studying me closely. “Really?”

She knows me so well, it’s actually a bit scary.

I smirk. “No, yeah. We’re definitely insane,” I nod vigorously.

She snorts and quickly thereafter falls into a fit of giggles. “Yeah.” She smiles sweetly up at me and my insides melt.

I feel like a teenager all over again. Nervous, insecure, and completely whipped.

We stare at eachother for a long while.

I smile softly down at her. “Let’s head to bed, sweetheart.”

I don’t know why, but something about that makes my heart skip a beat. Maybe because it implies the bed is ours instead of just mine. Maybe because for one night I’ll get to feel her inviting warmth close to me.

Or maybe because just for tonight I choose to ignore how completely wrong it is to want her warmth.

Either way, I can’t suppress the excitement I have brewing within me despite knowing that no matter how good it feels right now— it’s just a matter of time before chaos reigns all around us and our perfect, forbidden little world comes crashing down.

Because even if it’s just for tonight I get to pretend I’ll have her like this forever.

Read Chapter Eleven Here!!

***

I know, I know. There was no smut in this and I keep holding back on giving it to you.

But that’s because when it happens -and it WILL happen- you’re gonna spontaneously combust from wherever you’re watching.

(A visual for your viewing pleasure):

A Special Thanks to:

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

@sp2900

@multifandom-foreverx

@missbosstown

@supernaturalyloki

@jungkooksbowlingskills

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@woodworthti666

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@zofty15

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@Neverforget-whereyoubelong

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And of course my lovely forevers!

@jessikared97

@ladyofletters67

@lilypalmer1987

@meowsekai @sammykb1994

#Mr Evans #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #teacher x student #teacher!chris evans x student!reader #teacher au

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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A Sun In The Night Sky

Summary: A collection of one-shots based off of my story, Mirabile Visu, in which Agatha and Dracula face the challenges and glory of becoming parents. You don’t need to have read the story to understand. To simply put it, this collection of works explores Agatha’s pregnancy, her blooming romance with Dracula, and raising their child.

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Another one shot with the hopes of making your day a little bit brighter. Anyway, comments/reviews/kudos mean so much! Let me know your thoughts and I'll keep the fics pumping! Here's the next installment! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

Prompt: Agatha teaches a young Sorina how to build a snowman.

Snowman

Winters in Romania were often unforgiving, the landscape blanketed with thick sheets of snow and ice. In the mountains of Transylvania, the cold wind blows, whistling through the evergreens and racking against the bare branches of those barren of leaves. The sky was overcast and foreboding as it loomed over the castle, shielding it from the rays of sunlight. One might consider, for a vampire at least, it was an ideal season. However to those with beating hearts, who existed warm blooded, such was a different matter.

"Mama, it's too scratchy," Sorina complained, frowning as her mother stuffed her into a coat, the woolen collar rubbing against her neck. "And hot!"

"You'll thank me when you don't catch a cold," Agatha commented, buttoning up the jacket. "There, now is that so terrible?"

Sorina looked at her mother, her mouth turned into a pout. The fireplace cast her shadow across the stone floor making it seem like the tiny girl was a lot larger than she actually was. Even with the fire roaring, a chill still sat in the air. With the size of the manor, heating the place was no easy, reachable task. Agatha sighed, holding out a hat lined with rabbit fur.

"Will you at least put on your hat?" Her mother sighed.

Sorina merely shook her head. "Nope!"

"You've inherited your father's stubbornness, that's for sure," the former nun muttered, shaking head. "I know you find your outfit unpleasant, but believe me, it truly is for the best."

The three year old huffed, wiggling her arms as if trying to loosen the snug sleeves. Agatha gave a small smile, reaching for her daughter's hand. When she looked down at her, the dark locks which color matched her father's bouncing past her shoulder blades, it was hard to imagine that just a few years ago she had been a nun stuck at a convent, spending day after day pouring over as many books as she could get her hands on. But now, here she stood, in the walls of her once enemy with a little girl they both shared.

"Come," she smiled. "How about we play with that lovely tea set of yours. The one Papa gave you? Surely your dolls could use a nice warm drink to heat them up."

The young girl's mood seemed to lighten at the prospect and she nodded in agreement. As they ascended the stairs, nearing Sorina's room, a loud gust of air sounded from below accompanied by the heavy creak of the main doors closing. Sorina's eyes lit up, her smile growing into a wide grin as she let go of her mother's hand.

"Papa!"

Agatha had barely a moment to react as her daughter hurried down the stairs nearly tumbling at times. She caught a glimpse of Dracula, smiling too, as he set down what appeared to be a large barrel, and opened his arms to embrace Sorina. The child crashed into his, burying her face into his neck. Such devotion he had towards his daughter, a trait she would've never suspected unless witnessing it first hand.

"Ah, micul mea liliac, how I've missed you," he chuckled, staring lovingly at his daughter. "I brought you something. Would you like to see it?"

Agatha leaned against the banister curiously, somewhat apprehensive as to what her husband had stored in the barrel. Pulling away from Sorina, the vampire grabbed the large barrel and, mindful of where his daughter stood, dumped the contents onto the floor. White, tightly packed crystals tumbled out and spilled across the floor. Snow.

"What is it?" Sorina asked, hesitantly reaching forward to touch. When her fingers brushed against the powder, she shivered. "It's cold!"

"That it is," the vampire smiled. "Snow's like that."

"You brought snow into the castle," Agatha commented, arms crossed as she walked over to her husband and child. "You do realize that it will melt and cause a puddle, yes?"

"Until then, I see no harm with her playing with it," he replied. "After all, it isn't like she can go out and enjoy it there."

The former nun hummed under her breath, watching as Sorina curiously poked and prodded at the snow with her fingers. What harm was it really, a pile of frozen water lumps? An idea began to form in her mind as she squatted down beside her daughter.

"Dracula, if you could, go find two, thin strips of wood from the lumber pile. Also if you go into my room, there should be some buttons on the counter. And a small stone...yes, that would do nicely…" She looked to her daughter, offering a smile. "How would you like to make a snowman?"

XXX

"Gentle now, cup it in your hands and form it into a ball."

"Like this, Mama?"

"Yes, very good, Sorina, you're quite a natural if I do say so myself."

The young girl smiled, her hands wet and pink from molding the snow into a slightly misshapen, but recognizable ball. The bottom of Agatha's dress was soaked from where she knelt in an ever growing puddle. Dracula watched closely, a corner of his mouth upturned in a pleasant grin as he watched the two work purposely.

"When I was in Holland," Agatha began, placing the first ball on the ground. "I used to build snowmen all of the time with my brothers and sisters. We'd use all sorts of stuff around the farm. Coal. Hay. Bits of fabric."

"Where's Holland?" Sorina asked, tilting her head curiously as she handed her mother the second ball. "Can we go?"

The former nun fell quiet for a second. "Holland is...well it's rather far from here. It's better we stay put here in the castle." Her daughter began to frown so she quickly added. "I think it's time we dress our snowman up, hm? Would you do the honors?"

Sorina perked up. "Yes!" Seeming to have forgotten about the previous conversation-much to Agatha's relief, the young girl began to gently push the button eyes in and carefully jab the wooden sticks into its side. "A snowman!"

"I couldn't have made a better one myself," her mother smiled. "I-" Suddenly, a chunk of snow hit her square in the chest, leaving a dark, wet stain across her front. Her gaze jerked up to meet the playfully malicious grin of her husband. "Dracula! How dare-" Bam! Another one smacked into her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed as she began to fish around in the loose snow. "Two can play at that game!"

Sorina giggled as her mother beamed a snowball at her father who gracefully dodged it. He aimed a third, just missing Agatha's arm. Wanting to be included, the young girl grabbed a handful of snow and ran towards her father. With a rather adorable warrior cry, she smashed the snow into the vampire's pant's leg. Dracula froze, then pretending to waver, slid to the ground in defeat.

"Papa?" Sorina asked worriedly, climbing onto his chest. "Papa?"

Suddenly, the count's arms shot up and took hold of his daughter. Sorina squealed in delight as Dracula lifted her up into the air. Agatha sat down, smiling as her husband nuzzled the little girl's face. The snow had all but melted, but she didn't really mind. A little water never hurt anyone.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula on Netflix #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Dragatha #Count Dracula #A Sun in the Night Sky

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 60: For the Lazy Mornings

Chapters: 60/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Bad Dreams, Loki has Unresolved Issues, Reader Contemplates, Walk Walk Fashion Baby, Lol Yes I Did Write A Whole Chapter That Takes Place Within Like Thirty Minutes

Summary: You miss breakfast.

Loki awoke to darkness; velvety, silent, and comfortable. A slight chill had crept into the room, the sensation familiar on his skin. The sun must be setting fully again, finally. The seasons on this world were so strange, foreign.

You shifted next to him. The chill might be soothing to him, but your fragile, precious human body might not take to it well. He should probably get an extra blanket for you.

Of course, there were other ways to keep you warm. Lust stirred in him, recalling your clumsy, insistent hands and hungry, determined expression. It wasn't the first handjob of his life, but it was certainly the most earnest.

For some reason, you hadn't wanted him to return the favor at the time. But now...

He placed his hand on your thigh. You rolled over to face him, bigger than you should be, twice, three times bigger than you should be. The bright, rainbow-scattered light of the old Bifrost Loki remembered lit up the room, highlighting your sapphire skin, your bright red eyes looking down at him fondly. Loki shouted, recoiling in revulsion, but the roar of the Bifrost drowned him out, the light overcoming him.

Loki sat up in bed.

It was dark, but to his eyes, faint light escaped from the edges of his blackout curtains. You stirred, and his head whipped around to stare. You were your normal, adorably compact size, and thankfully devoid of blue. He let out a relieved breath.

“Well.” You muttered. “That was weird. Is that what it's like, when you look down at me? What was that loud light?”

You must not have been able to see yourself in the dream, the way he had.

“That...that was the old Bifrost. It used to be like that, when it was fully functional and powered up. Brighter. Bigger. More color, more range, a louder roar. Just more powerful.”

Powerful enough to slice through the mile thick ice crust of a tiny, helpless planet, creating a canyon a quarter of the way across the equatorial region, exposing the water far below, and causing Norns only knew what kind of havoc.

You had still been beautiful, in the colorful light, in the wrong skin, the wrong size. Still beautiful. Somehow, it repulsed him.

But the dream was gone now, the shock fading away into the warmth you brought to his bed. He settled back down into your waiting arms. It was so comfortable here. Though not yet lovers exactly, you fit so well into his bed, and he fit so well into your arms, his head resting between your breast and jaw, so he could hear the steady pumping of your heart.

“Sleep, okay?” You encouraged. “Everyone's leaving tomorrow. Then you'll have peace again.”

“Hm? Whatever do you mean?” Loki said. He knew what you meant, but was surprised that you'd thought of it.

“Well, it's stressful, right? Having all these enemies around, pax or no.” You said, absently stroking his hair.

“Not enemies. Not anymore.”

“Not friends either, though. Bad blood.”

“Some of them.” He admitted.”Some of them weren't even there at the time. Many of the others have...well, not forgiven me precisely, but accepted the reality of me. Or simply moved on. But then, there are those who can't.”

“Tony.”

“It isn't his fault. My actions fundamentally changed him. How many others like him? I wonder sometimes.”

“You regret what you did?” You sounded...not surprised, but curious.

“I regret the lives lost. Though my actions actually brought some benefit to your world-forced your governments to realize there were threats from outside, to at least try to prepare for further incursions, revitalize your space programs, recognize your heroes...but it is terribly unbecoming to attack civilians.”

“Huglausi?” You ventured.

“Very.” He sighed. “I compromised my honor very severely. Obliterated it, really. I've done many unseen things to try to restore it. In the end, it's really all I have.”

He wrapped one arm around you and snuggled up as close as was possible without actually being on top of you.

“I've seen how superficial so many things really are, how easy it is to be stripped of them. Title. Wealth. Name. Home. Identity. The only thing that truly lasts, the only thing that has impact, is deeds. And mine have been...reprehensible.”

“But it wasn't entirely you.” You pointed out. “You were being controlled.”

“Not entirely. I told you, it was still me. I know it's tempting to attribute everything to some behind-the-scenes puppetmaster, but it wasn't like that, it was...” He trailed off, squeezing you.

“Like what?”

He held his breath and shook his head a little. If he told you too much, if he told you everything, you would never lie next to him again. He would lose this as soon as he had gotten it.

But didn't you deserve to know what kind of creature you slept next to? Didn't you at least deserve to know what was behind his actions on Earth? Maybe not the rest of it, but the things that impacted the world you lived in?

“You know how you hate the man who hurt you during the Sn-the Event? But you wish you did not, and you wish you could forgive him, but the anger and unfairness of it just hits you sometimes? And you feel guilty about it, and that makes you angry too; bitter, resentful. And that makes you feel even worse, and it just builds on itself, until it finally goes away, but you're miserable the whole time, and a while afterwards?”

“Uh...yeah. It's exactly like that, actually.”

“I too, have things that make me feel that way. And the influence of the Mind Stone was such that it made those thoughts, those angers and resentments come to the surface, and then it kept them there. It kept them fresh and constant-no healing, no overcoming, no acceptance or moving on, and, most importantly, no relief. It was neverending. A great font of anger and bitterness as fresh as the moment it was inflicted, and sustained, indefinitely, by the stone's power over me.

Thanos didn't put a ring in my nose to lead me around by; he didn't have to. A smidgen of psychological manipulation, and I was his. A nearly willing slave. I wanted the havoc I caused. I reveled in the chaos, the fear. I bathed in the sounds of screaming and destruction, lusted after the blood and terror.”

His breath had grown heavy. You fingers paused in his hair.

“I wanted it because I felt I had nothing else. No future, no identity. Only deeds. And I was determined to make them the biggest deeds I could, for good or ill. I was an avatar of the worst that a being like me could become, and the greatest I had ever been. I enjoyed what I was doing, because it was the only outlet, the only respite from the hate and anger that I had.

For all my plans, I could never have ruled like that. It's a lie the Mind Stone told me, that I tell myself, again and again. I could have done it. I could have made it work. But I could not even master myself. It was all lies, upon lies, upon lies. Lies built me. Lies define me, and that entire experience just proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

“Loki...”

“Shhh.” He lightly brushed your mouth with his fingertips. “I committed great deeds. Great and terrible. And now, now that I control myself, now that the malign influence no longer hangs over me, I can no longer commit deeds so great. I cannot rebuild your city. You have already done that. I cannot show generosity in equal measure to my destructiveness. Asgards budget is too tight. Somehow, on the other side of madness, I am incapable of doing good in equal measure to ill. Why must it be so easy to harm you, but so difficult to help you?”

“Maybe because we all need different kinds of help, but we all die the same.” You said, and he grew quiet in contemplation. “ Loki, you have a lot you want to do, right? Rebuild Asgard, fix your reputation, help the people around you, be a good ruler. And on top of that, you have responsibilities to your family, and your people, and...well, to me too. As your...”

“Paramour...” He breathed. “Yes. I have...responsibilities. You...you need me.” It was almost a plea. “You want me...You want to be near me...I've been good to you...haven't I? Is there anything you need? Anything at all?”

You seemed to sense the tendrils of desperation that wound inside of him as he had explained himself, as he sought something to expend his energy on, and you resumed stroking his hair.

“Yes.” You said. “I need you to hold me for the rest of the night. I need to feel you close to me. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up to you first thing in the morning. That's all I want right now. Can you give me those things?”

He didn't move, just remained molded to you, head tucked under your jaw. Purpose. Simple, attainable purpose.

“All those things and more. Thank you, _____. I needed to say it. I knew you would listen. Without the stone, I would have healed, at least a little. Without the stone, I have healed. A little. There was time to mourn, time to accept. Time to look forward. I...I wish I was already the man I could be for you. I will be though. If you will but be patient with me.”

“Sleep, Loki.” You said. “I want to get to that waking up with you next to me part.”

*****

And so you did, slipping gently back into consciousness, with the comfortable weight of Loki's arm across your chest. You turned your head to find he had tucked you under his chin, cuddling you like a plush doll.

You kissed his throat until he shifted and his breathing changed.

“Darling...” He mumbled sleepily. “Blessed maiden of comfort. Good morning.”

“Mornin' sweetie.” You said, and he scoffed at the pet name.

“I am a god.” He said

“You are a grump.” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose and shimmying out of bed.

He slithered out after you. “Am I really?”

“Only sometimes.” You teased.

You didn't join him in the bath this time, opting to take one in the evening instead. Your clothes had been left in a neatly folded stack just outside the door to Loki's bedroom rather than outside of yours.

Oh yes, everyone knew what was going on.

You reflected on how easy that acceptance seemed to be, as you slipped into your clothes for the day. Aside from a few loud, unpleasant, and downright dangerous individuals, the people of Asgard seemed perfectly fine with you.

Even though you'd been told several times that there was a struggle between human-friendly and human-unfriendly factions, it was really being treated as if the eventual failure and disappearance of the human-unfriendly groups was a foregone conclusion. As if it had all happened before, and had turned out the same every time.

Well, hadn't it?

The war with the Vanir had ended millenia ago, possibly before the first human civilizations had even begun. You could see the influence of their heritage in Saldis' features, and knew there were full Vanir here in Asgard who were trapped away from Vanaheim by the events of Ragnarok. Nobody cared anymore. The former queen of Asgard and the guardian of all Asgard were both raised by Alfar. Heck, with the strangeness of Heimdalls eyes, there might actually have been Alfar in his family tree.

Once you thought about it, there might be a little Jotun mixed in as well. Probably not Frost Giants, since they still seemed to be a point of contention among Asgardians, but other kinds of Jotun they didn't seem to have much trouble with. You knew the Vanir didn't have any trouble with intermarrying with them, and neither Loki, Brunnhilde, or Saga seemed to think they idea of marrying a Jotun was all that strange. Freyr was married to one, and they didn't act like he was a freak or anything. In fact, since Jotun were so genetically flexible, it was possible that any Asgardian could have a Jotun ancestor, and it might not even show at all.

You knew absolutely nothing about the previous queens of Asgard, save for where Frigga was raised...

Nah. You didn't actually want to go fishing for more royal scandal. You technically were one, even if the majority of Asgardians had accepted that you were but a harbinger of what was to come. They had survived intermingling with others, and they would survive humans too. Probably come out even better for it, if the history Saga taught you was accurate.

The real problem might just be other humans reactions to the idea. Humans were far too proficient at focusing on the differences between people, and dividing themselves up into groups that weren't supposed to be allowed to mingle...but still definitely did, even if the consequences were terrible. That was the problem. There shouldn't be those kinds of consequences, but there would be. For the longest time, humans only had other humans to define as 'outsiders'. Only very recently had extraterrestrial intelligent species come to their attention, and almost every time, it was in a very negative way.

Part of the world was very on board with the Asgardians, but it was because of a shared cultural history. They regarded the Asgardians as partially 'theirs' somehow. But the rest of the world had no such ties, and some countries had a definite-and admittedly justified-beef with certain prominent Asgardians. One of which you happened to be actually dating.

Okay, but what could they actually do to you, aside from troll you on the internet? Asgard was on the lookout for assassins now, and you had committed no crimes. Besides, being with Loki was a good thing, right? It was a symbol of friendliness and good will between Asgard and humankind, right?

That was definitely not why you were doing it though. You just really liked him. Loki was a man of many virtues. One of them was how he came back from the bath, shirtless, and with his hair still damp.

That was a very good one.

Loki gave his hair one last scrub with the towel, dropped said towel over the back of his desk chair, and opened the carved wooden doors to his huge wardrobe. He stood in contemplation of the perfect thing to wear.

“What do you think...” He murmured. “What's the best combination for saying goodbye to a group of not-quite-enemies?”

“Peacefully?” You asked.

“Of course! I can't let it be known, but I actually like some of them, just a little.”

“So you want the 'lady who has just divorced her jackass, loser husband, and is past ready to mingle' look.”

One perfect eyebrow arched. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” You ducked under his arm and peered into the wardrobe. “So you wanna show off, but not your very best, because that's trying too hard, right? All black is dramatic, and looks so good on you...”

He preened.

“...But I think it might make you fade into the backdrop. How about this one though? The green matches mine, so we could present as a unified front. Also I like this little short cape.”

“This is a capelet. Would you like one? They are not difficult to make; I can order some for you.”

He held up the tunic; a quilted thing of rich pine green and gold piping, knotwork designs at the stiff cuffs and mandarin collar.

“You like this?”

“It looks very...touchable.”

Both eyebrows went up this time. “Is that the image we want to project?”

“Put it on, and lets see.”

The tunic molded to him, so tight that you would have though it simply didn't fit. But he seemed to be able to move in it just fine. You ran your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

“I was right. Very touchable.”

He caught your hands in his and squeezed them gently.

“I'm glad you like it, but I don't think so. Not this one. It is actually part of a matched set made for myself and Thor, when we were younger.. It doesn't feel right to wear it, if he is not wearing his. I doubt he still even fits into his.”

He removed the tunic, and searched for another.

“I do like the color matching idea though. Perhaps this one? It is similar.”

This tunic did not fit him quite as tightly, but was still expertly tailored, and still the same color of green. It fell all the way to his knees, split to the hips in four places, and the sleeves terminated in sharp points over the back of his hands. It was quilted as well, but the pattern was more like scales, and you noticed that the metallic thread was gradated; starting out black at the bottom, then shifting to green, then gold at the collar and shoulders.

“Wow.” You breathed. “You look like a dragon!”

“Well,” He said. “I did steal you and fly you away to my lair full of riches, did I not?”

“That you did. Speaking of riches...can you help me with my brooches?”

“Of course, my dear.” He plucked the oval brooches from your palm, very carefully pinning them in place, so as not to prick you. As you had thought, he got them perfectly centered, their strings of beads cascading over the top of your breasts. They drew his eyes. “But you know how to pin them yourself, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do.” You said, a little sultriness slipping into your voice. Loki's eyes flicked to yours. He licked his lips.

You were in his arms barely a moment later, drowning in his mouth.

“I wish I was the man I could be for you. I will be.”

No man had ever said anything like that to you before. Never expressed any desire to be better for you. It was usually the opposite.

Loki, prince and god, wanted to be better. For you.

You were going to miss breakfast.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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