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datrb · 5 months

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2023 art review!

Even if this year wasn't the biggest on art, due to my physical condition (especially in last couple of months), it would still be nice to look back on what i did as an artist throughout it!

This is gonna be a fun ride...

So, let's dive straight into it, shall we?

Continuation under the cut

January

2023 started on a high note, with me just having finished the King piece, and moving on to the next big thing, being an AvA3/5 double piece.

Sadly, during the process i messed up big time which led to me being unable to finish the piece the way i wanted to, rendering this project an eternal WIP. However, i still cherish the idea and do wish to either redraw, or complete it.

February

Doing 2 big projects one after another did end up affecting my overall drive, so i spent majority of that month just making sketches.

First one is a little redraw/redesign of my old character - Derek, whom i used for a roleplay with my friends like 3 or 4 years ago, and second one is Deach, a character from my fantasy setting.

Also, back then i joined a new fandom, people in which have reminded me of my admiration for SCP, after which me and my friends proceeded to make OCs for it. Was a fun time! (Also this access card was sold by me as a YCH, sadly i couldn't really find buyers, so yikes)

March

By march is slowly started recovering from january's disappointement and was a bit more productive already. One of my friends really helped with it too.

A musician friend of mine reached out to me, asking to develop a design for a villain character in the plot he was working on. After listening to the theme song i couldn't resist. This ended up being one of my favorite designs so far, and i adore its look in neon.

In the meantime, i kept working on my fantasy setting, refining more minor details of designs and stories, yet having to reserve only to making sketches as i was too busy with college and other projects. Characters you see on screen are Ian and Lanfor respectfully. One is a strong yet troubled mage and other is a great Emperor, and even better person.

April

I'd say april was one of the most productive months of this year, mostly because i managed to snatch some time for myself and my setting, which allowed me to complete two full pieces and achieve some extreme progress with my story.

This piece is an illustration to a scene i wrote for two of the characters, Lanfor and Emile, called "Night Visitor". This was a scene of a reunion of two old friends. A bittersweet, yet a lovely work. Love both the written one as well as the illustration.

This one was more of a... Proof of concept. Needed to test out the expresiveness of the design for one or a relatively new characters - Covlar. Was originally a simple sketch on paper, but i couldn't resist the urge of making it into a complete illustration. I then proceeded to make a few notes for this scene. Both want to write it properly and avoid it at all cost... Best to avoid it, for my own sanity.

May

May was a bit of trainwreck, because i got a brand new laptop, which took me quite some time to get used to and even more time to reassure myself that it is in fact alright for me to draw on this suspicioiusly thin piece of tech.

Ironically enough, the only vomplete piece i drew that month was drawn on my old laptop. This screenshot redraw was to made to honour the premiere of AvA6 ep.1. Sadly, i did it a bit late because fo technical issues, but i still had a ton of fun doing it.

June

June was... Chaotic, to say the least. Mostly because i finally got comfortable with the new laptop and could now draw a lot more freely due to it being a lot more compact than the original one, which worked almost like a PC. Besides, i got a ton more free time because semester finals ended up being a breeze.

Ended up making a ton sketches and doodles, that i didn't actually plan to finish, but still enjoyed a ton. Here are some of them

Then, ofc, the memes and the gand redesign, because AvA6 just had to break all of my portrayals. But, i mean, after AvM s3 my original designs did become a bit dated.

The biggest pride and saddest of failures was this picnic piece, however. I still plan on finishing it, but it is hard doing so, when i have changed quite a bit of my artstyle by now.

July

July was quite lazy. Semester ended and i spent that entire month out of the city. It was a great time, very peaceul indeed.

And again, that musician friend from before came into clutch, asking me to develop another design for his other project. And again a villain. He said he really liked how i draw bastard type of characters.

August

Well this is where fun began. End of summer break means i have just this much time to actually draw something i would never have time to draw normally.

For me to draw something to commemorate a new episode is almost like a tradition at this point. And, given how long it's been since i made anything that would require effort, no wonder i have chosen arguably the most complex piece to pull off energy-wise. Yet i did and now i simply adore this piece, even if it did render me disabled. (I crunched through all of this piece, pulling off 40+ hours of work in just 4 days, so naturaly it ended up worsening my condition by a lot)

Then i also proceeded to do all of these tiny side projects, like Victim ask, which i couldn't last long at due to my condition, and working on a design for my favourite streamer. (Which i cannot show as the work is not complete an it's best if i avoid spoilers)

September and October

These two months i spent being unable to draw at all via a doctor's advice. Arguably, these two were the hardest months for me to handle.

I assume you can imagine how hard it is to suddenly stop being able to do what you love, regardless of how much you wish to do it.

Novemer

*Nervous laughter* I... actually still wasn't allowed to use my hand, but that didn't stop me and i ended up making an entire series of sketches to celebrate AvA6 ep2.

"Small in big quantity will sure be less exhausting than a single big thing" - (C) Me, proably

I will admit, i still adore all of these sketches and each of them deserves to become a fully fledged piece in it's own right, but i really better keep them as they are. For my own safety.

December

As you way have expected, this month will stay without a single thing from me. It's not because i don't want to, but because i can't. And, given the circumstance, it better stay that way.

Afterword

I finally got my diagnosis and soon enough i will start active treatment for my condition. It would be a shame to make this worse than it already is with impulses like those that happened in november, so i am making this post as a way to draw a line for myself.

It is still kinda crazy to realize that there are quite a few people interested in what i make, so i will make sure to take my recovery as responcible as possible, and then come back to you with even more art in the upcoming year! Let's be positive about it.

#alan becker #animation vs animator #ava #illustration #ava fanart #animation vs minecraft #avm #artists on tumblr #2023 art #yearly art summary #oc art #original character #digital art #No character tags because there are too many of them

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apompkwrites · 2 years

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Finally decided to send in a request for the black sheep event! My request contains, Draconia!Name and Riddle sharing the same desk for separate classes (ex. Draconia!Name first period, Riddle second) ,, with - Draconia!Name writing letters and leaving it at the shared desk for Riddle to pick up? Romantic if you could <3 and you can get very creative with it !!

passing notes || black sheep expansion pack

masterlist characters: riddle genre: fluff contains: not a whole lot of draconia!(name)? idk i just really liked the idea :), riddle pov summary: when a note left behind after a class turns into something more. notes: i had a lot of fun writing this :DD event: [black sheep expansion pack]

it all started with a simple note. one most likely left behind in a rush. riddle, in hindsight, was quite glad he found it. he would leave it behind with two other notes accompanying it.

one was a simple "do not touch unless first period", a warning to the rest of the students who sat in that seat.

the second was a correction to the initial note, correcting a certain aspect of the subject the writer had gotten wrong in theirs. riddle was satisfied with himself, especially if the recipient was to be a member of heartslabyul.

much to his surprise, it wasn't.

the next day, another note was left behind.

thank you! i passed my quiz because of you!

riddle didn't know what compelled him to answer this new note. normally, he would just nod in satisfaction at the thought of helping someone better their knowledge on his best subject, but that wasn't the case this time. something told him, urged him, to write back.

no need for thanks, was all he wrote, but it seemed to suffice. the next day, he was met with another note. and then he responded again. and then another note was left. and he responded again. and again. and again, and again, and again.

so that's how he ended up where he was now, continuing to exchange notes with a certain person that sat in his same seat just a single period before him.

how was your day, riddle?

the same as it always is. should he change how he writes? cater seemed to agree when he told the two third years about his new "friend".

that's good! i'm glad to hear it :} they always scribbled a cute smile beside their message, little fangs poking out from the mouth of their drawing. when is your next unbirthday party? i'd love to help one day!

"how sweet," riddle hummed to himself at the latest note. without another thought, he turned to his binder of papers and began flipping through them, letting out a soft "a-ha!" when he pulls out one of the many schedules he had laid out for his dorm.

the next one should be in the next three days. or, rather, two if you receive this invitation during your first period, was what he had written, quietly admonishing himself under his breath.

"is this too formal? should i rewrite it...?" before he could stick to a decision, his teacher ushered him and the other students out of the room, huffing on about the next period he was about to tend to.

oh well, riddle simply sighed, tucking his binder under his arm.

so the next unbirthday party is in two days, right? i'll try to make it! hopefully dorm leader draconia won't mind... i can't wait to see you in person!

riddle stifled a laugh, scooping the little note into his hands and tucking it away into his notebook.

i look forward to having you over, was what riddle left behind on the desk, a little heart scribbled in the corner only to be hurriedly erased a few moments later.

it's tomorrow~ dorm leader draconia said i was able to go, can you believe it? i'll see you soon riddle <3, riddle nearly choked on his own spit as his eyes scanned over the heart. and yes, i saw the little heart you wrote on the last note. don't be afraid to keep it there next time, okay?

"hnmg..." riddle let out a sound that he didn't even know he was capable of making.

i'm glad to hear that, was all riddle managed to write, his hand shaking as he wrote the last word. he felt his heart pound in his chest as his eyes continued to dart between his notes and the special note from his friend. yes, his “friend”. just his friend.

(of course, he only tried to convince himself of this because of the lingering influence ms. rosehearts his mother had on him.)

regardless, he could not wait for the day to finally end.

"you're restless," trey hummed in amusement, glancing over at riddle. "something's on your mind, huh?"

"don't even start, trey," riddle grumbled, earning a laugh from his vice dorm leader. and although riddle's words were sharp and snippy, he knew trey wasn't wrong.

"all hail our leader, the red sovereign himself... housewarden riddle!"

"we salute you, housewarden riddle!" despite his dorm members calling his name, riddle could only scan over the crowd in search of a not-so-familiar face.

see, he was familiar with all of his members and any guests that would be coming. all except the one he wanted to see. he knew their name and their dorm but not what they looked like.

and just when he thought they were not there, his eyes zeroed in on the one face he had never seen. a bright smile was plastered on their face and their horns were decorated with little red and white roses.

for the first time during the unbirthday party ritual's history (in riddle's era, at least), the dorm leader paused in his tracks. riddle couldn't help but stare in awe, finally matching a face with the little notes left behind on his desk. they offered a light grin, their little fangs barely peeking out from their lips.

"riddle?" trey suddenly called out, having paused a few steps in front of the redhead. despite the confused tone in his voice, the grin he shot at riddle was enough for the dorm leader to realize how much trey really knew.

"r-right..." riddle coughed into his fist, hurrying up to trey's side. the vice dorm leader merely chuckled before nodding, continuing to walk towards the table.

the ritual continued the way it always did, with riddle inspecting the decorations and embellishments and nodding in satisfaction as it was up to standard. when he announces the start of the tea party, he finds himself quickly ushering the unfamiliar face in the crowd towards him.

and as they hurry to his side, little red and white rose petals falling from their horns, riddle couldn't help but clutch the note in his pocket to ease the anxiety roaring in his heart.

allow me to court be mine? <3

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @cherrykissesss890 @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fluff #twst fluff #twisted wonderland riddle #twisted wonderland riddle x reader #twst riddle #twst riddle x reader #riddle x reader #twisted wonderland riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader

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starspray · 3 months

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BTS for what your life is?

BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from [that fic]

What Your Life Is was so much fun to write! I'd never done anything with Harad before and it was a lot of fun to do some worldbuilding there, and to figure out all the OCs--who they were, what their relationship to one another was, etc. I have a fair amount of notes that never made it into the fic, that I jotted down before I knew where the story itself was going to go.

It's a TRSB fic, for @independence1776's gorgeous moodboard. Fun fact, IIRC said moodboard was made with me in mind because I'd made a joke about having written Maglor being more or less forcefully befriended by smaller and hairier creatures (hobbits twice and Roverandom once) several years in a row for TRSB. I was extremely excited to snag it during claims!

It's very hard to pick a favorite passage but I'm very fond of this one:

"Father also wanted to ask if he can bring the family here before the storm season begins in earnest," said Mathos. "He does not feel it is safe anymore for anyone known to do business with Elves. And he promises to bring extra supplies." "Yes, of course," said Maglor. "You would all be welcome. I'll go tomorrow—" "You can't go!" Nanaia protested. "Haven't you been listening to what Mathos is saying?" Iset demanded at the same time. "I don't plan to draw attention to myself," Maglor said. "Besides, if what Barca told me is true, they all think I walk around dripping blood everywhere." "Huan will draw attention, and you know that he won't be left behind," said Iset. "He drew very little attention when we were there just a few weeks ago," said Maglor, "and I can change both his and my appearance if I must." "You said you couldn't, last time," said Iset. "I cannot shrink him down to the size of a cat," said Maglor, "but I can give him the seeming of—oh, I don't know, a pony or something. If I must. Huan can take care of himself, and I can of course change my own appearance." When Iset still looked skeptical he added, "I have sung the Lay of Leithian for you before. Do you remember Felagund's arts? If he could make himself look like an orc, I can certainly change my hair color." "You are not Felagund," Iset said, in the same tone that Vanna used to scold the twins when they tried to imitate the great heroes of their favorite tales. "No, I am not," Maglor agreed, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I am the one who taught him. It just takes more time and effort than I care to expend on a routine shopping trip. This will be different." "You aren't going to go to the temple, are you?" Mathos exclaimed. "Maglor, you can't!" "Everyone around here seems very sure of what I can and cannot do," Maglor said. "I have walked this world for more than three Ages of the Sun, remember, and faced far more serious dangers than a few Men in dark robes who believe they can bring Morgoth back from the Void with a few chants."

Maglor has just learned that the Sons of Elrond were looking for him before disappearing, and both fortunately and unfortunately for him he is surrounded by people who would very much like him not to endanger himself, but who also have been living with him in peace and (relative) safety for a long time, so they don't really know precisely what he's capable of. I love a Maglor who is both competent and confident--he's not very happy about this turn of events, but he's not going to shy away from doing what he has to, especially if Elrond's kids are involved.

I also really like the idea of Maglor having taught Finrod both music and magic back in Valinor, though I haven't done anything else with it.

What I liked most about writing this fic was now unsolitary Maglor is, in a pretty big departure from how he's typically written (and how I typically write him) post-Silm--it was part of Indy's premise with the moodboard, and it was so much fun to write a big complicated household/found family for Maglor to be a part and nominal head of. And I got to make OCs galore! There are a grand total of four canon characters present in this almost 20k word fic, and I think it's great.

#thanks for the ask!#so happy to talk about this fic #i'm really proud of it #meme response

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civilight-eterna · 11 months

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Ok hear me out. Perfumer's known for her scents and perfumes and her super sensitive nose. Foxes IRL are known for marking their territory with their extremely pungent urine. Can you connect the dots and make Lena scent marking piss kink real for me?

first time writing piss kink pls be nice IT'S SO NAUGHTY

going with lena/erato/pallas this time!

cw: piss (duh)

...

Lena had known for a while that the greenery of the convalescent garden harbored an admirer from time to time. Sometimes she'd peer over her shoulder for something she'd forgotten and catch sight of the familiar pastel pink plumage that crowned the head of one with a fervent gaze.

Just as soon as she'd notice, however, she'd alight like a fearful canary and dip through the leaves.

"Pallas," Lena remarks to her near-asleep partner, fluttering her fingers through her bangs. "She's here again." With a bemused chuckle, she adds, "Looking a little afraid of the fox in the hen house, as it were."

"'Tis not fear that stays her hand, my lady, but thine ephemeral expression of care for the flowers, surely."

"Alright. Even if that's true...shouldn't she introduce herself properly? You're close, aren't you?"

"Verily, indeed. Alas, if only she could hold her liquor a little better-"

"And...she knows I'm alright with everything, right?"

"Most assuredly. The nature of our relationship, I took great care explaining. She knows she is welcomed. I simply thought it uncouth to goad her were she not amenable."

"Of course. Hm. Suppose you let her know we could speak, all of us together? Do you think she'd feel more at ease...beside a friend she knows well?"

"I shall make a correspondence with her posthaste. After, that is-my mid-morning rest."

"Fine. Rest well then."

Pallas laid down back where she had been sunning herself and spoke out the side of her mouth.

"...If you so feel any urges again-"

Lena giggled heartily, voice light as wind chimes, "Pallas, please. It's no fun if I tell you exactly when I'll do it again!"

They shared a laugh, and Lena went back to tending her flowers.

...

"I understand you wanted to talk to me?" Erato was speaking clearly, confidently, but Lena could see the tension in her shoulders.

"Mmhm, but perhaps I could say the same to you. I've seen you around the garden so often, and sensed your eyes on me more times than that." Lena props her backside against her desk, arms folded, one ankle crossed elegantly over the other. "I have an idea...what's on your mind." She sent a sidelong glance to Pallas with a gentle smile, "But I think I'd really like to just hear it from you."

"Lena..." Erato swallowed, "It's just that. For all the words that oft flow so easily from me, I can't find what to say when I'm before you. I can't describe you for the life of me, because what words I find aren't enough. But-" Erato's fingers trail the fabric edge hugging her chest, stroking towards her heart. "-I haven't courage enough to express myself another way."

"Hmm, I see. I think I understand." Lena sits herself on the edge of the desk fully. She does not miss the subtle part of Erato's mouth as she languidly crosses one leg clear over the other, but she only smiles fondly. "Would you be seeking some inspiration? Maybe you could both, come over here and kneel?" Lena draws a finger to her lips, "So I can tell you what good girls you are."

...

Lena's office becomes a haven for the three of them, at which she sits center as its goddess. Truthfully, she doesn't have such grandiose ideas of herself, but with Pallas and Erato repeating it in such earnest as they touch each other, touch her, from between her legs, she could stand to believe it.

If she could stand at all. They really are so naturally lyrical as they sing her praises, press kisses against her legs and thighs, and it's not long before Lena is ripping her own tights open to let Erato's silver tongue slide deep against her.

"Nnh-" Her legs flex, over Pallas' shoulder, around Erato's waist, and her head is going blank with disbelief that she gets to share so much affection with both of them at once. She's felt the yearning fill her stomach like the pit of an overripe peach for so long, and she knows it's been longer for Erato, and knows that her and Pallas have so much love to share.

Erato does something clever with her tongue and Lena gasps, arching and curling her fingers into her hair, and as she loses her balance Pallas is there with a hand at her back, so chivalrous to a fault, ready to keep her upright.

Lena is so close. She feels a sudden unbearable urge behind her cunt at the sight of Erato framed between her legs, and she grabs for her face, draws her up-

"Erato-"

She doesn't have to say another word. Erato pliantly tips her head back for the long, wet kiss that follows, bracing her hands on Lena's inner thighs to sit upright between her legs-

Lena cups the back of her neck and rocks herself forward, hands slipping, anchoring on Erato's shoulders to keep her breasts right against her cunt as they kiss, as the pressure mounts inside.

Such a pretty bird. Such a full, soft body.

"Aaahn-Lenaaa-" Erato pants into her mouth.

"Stay-stay like this-I want, I want to-" Lena murmurs desperately, and Erato presses tight and close, the front of her dress slipping down, the shape of her body plumping up against her-

With a poorly-contained cry, Lena is cumming, and some primordial part of her id releases everything at once.

She pisses all over Erato's breasts, the hot liquid soaking the delicate fabric until it clings to her body. Erato is cupping herself so closely against Lena that it pools in her modest cleavage for a few moments before dripping down, drenching the fabric clear to her navel.

Mine, she thinks, mine, mine, mine.

In a daze, she registers movement from between her legs, of both Pallas and Erato rising to their feet, the former taking her hand to help her dismount the desk.

They're all absolutely filthy, one way or another.

"Might I suggest-" Pallas gingerly wipes her mouth, then gestures towards the herbal spas, "-a wholesome group-bath?"

"Y-Yes. I think that's in order." Lena agrees, casting a glance in Erato's direction. Now she understands what it's like to be speechless, to worry about what to say or how to say it-

But Erato simply grins wide.

"Absolutely."

...

The three of them soak in the huge bath. Dried herbs and flowers perfume the water, and Lena sits with a slumbering head on each shoulder.

She thinks to herself that perhaps, when they do it again, she won't let them wash off so quickly.

#arknights #erato (arknights)#perfumer (arknights)#pallas (arknights)#my writing #requests #nsft #okay piss oomfies (affectionate)#how'd i do

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quill-pen · 1 year

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A Christmas Confession pt. 1 (Married!ScroogeXReader)

I know, I know! I said I wouldn't post up much more for the story and that I'd only do some requests and headcannon stuff, but since listening to that gorgeous cover of 'Come What May' by Luke, my brain has been fraught with inspiration. And when I followed through with it, it turned into something just a little bit bigger because I've been dying to write Ebenezer being a loving Uncle figure to children. So here we are!

Part two will come along in a bit and bring with it quite a bit more romance. *wink* Right now, enjoy sweet Uncle Ebby with some adorable little girls plus YOU!

Note: Remember, the main idea of the story is you are Marley's estranged daughter raised in America but returned to England to live (for many complicated reasons) in your early to mid-20s (younger half-siblings now included because I want to write father-figure Scrooge and the Cratchit kids and street urchins can't always be around). For the many complicated reasons previously mentioned, you have married Ebenezer--a dear friend--and are struggling with the situation because you truly have feelings for the man, but are convinced he couldn't possibly feel the same.

Also, too late for Christmas stuff? NOT WHEN IT COMES TO 'A CHRISTMAS CAROL'. If Ebenezer can keep Christmas in his heart alive all the year, then why can't I?!

Enjoy!

youtube

Pairing: Ebenezer Scrooge x F!Reader (married)

Warnings: None, unless you count pining and seriously adorable Uncle Ebenezer with cute kids.

Summary: Christmas time has come again! This time, (probably at the behest of the children) you and Scrooge have invited the Cratchits and the Huffmans to stay with you for Christmas Eve so that you may all enjoy a Christmas morning together. You and Ebenezer agree to put the children to bed so that the Cratchits might have a break. For once!

A/N: Don't worry--we will get Prudence in the next part! And as always, insanely soft Scrooge.

And if anyone has any idea what the other Cratchit girls besides Kathy (who by all rights would probably be Belinda IDK why so many names got changed in this thing) are, let me know. Because right now, I'm just naming them things that sound right.

Part 2

A Christmas Confession pt. 1

Arms crossed over your chest, you leaned against the doorpost and watched with a small smile on your face as Millie and the young Cratchit girls knelt at the side of the bed, heads bowed and hands clasped in the nightly prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep….” Once they’d finished the recitation, they went around the bed, each thanking or praying to God individually about something or someone in turn. Millie started off the round: “I thank you, God, for sending us the baby Jesus. And I also pray that my friend Betty in Cincinnati has a nice Christmas this year. She told me in her letters she was wanting a new doll and a dress--I hope she gets them. I would just like a pony, with Christmas ribbons in its mane and tail. Thank you, God.”

You fought back the urge to laugh at that, successfully turning it into a quiet snort. Oh, you’re adorable but highly tenacious baby sister! Even at six years old, you could already tell you were in for a whirlwind of a time raising her up. God help you when the teenage years came!

A large, warm hand enclosed over your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the children to see Ebenezer standing just behind you. “How are we coming?” he murmured, eyes on the girls.

“We’re just finishing up our prayers,” you whispered back. “How are the boys?”

“Tucked in, waiting for you to come say goodnight.”

You gave him a look of disbelief. “What?! You mean to tell me you have that rowdy lot in bed already? How on earth did you beat me?”

The silver-haired man flashed you one of his divinely roguish smirks, making your knees feel the slightest bit wobbly. “I, my fine lady, am a man of many talents,” he whispered mysteriously.

Raising an eyebrow you smirked back. “Hmm, bribed them with sovereigns. I see.” You tsked your tongue and shook your head at him. “Cheater.”

Ebenezer didn’t even try to deny it, just merely burred that beautiful chuckle of his that stirred your soul.

The two of you fell silent and watched on as the girls continued on around their individual prayers. Ebenezer’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a wonderful, gentle, steady, and warm weight that conversely sent shivers tingling along your nerves. Oh, how you wished he’d put that hand around your waist and pull you into him, as close as a real wife should be. Or at least take one of your own hands into it and twine your delicate fingers together with his attractively large ones. There was no hope for it--you wanted to be completely and utterly possessed by him. Not merely carnally (though that in itself was a major appeal) but in the soft, devoted, domestic way too; the way you’d see the Cratchits and Huffmans behave towards each other; the way you’d see couples walking the street act; the way you’d grown up watching your mother and step-father interact. What you would have given to be totally and completely the woman of the house--to be Ebenezer’s woman.

But there was no point in pining for things that wouldn’t come to pass, so you forced your mind away from the concept and put it back on the girls, who were coming to the end of their personal prayers. Millie added in one last time: “Also, God, I know I’m still just a little girl, but I’d take really good care of a pony if I had one. I promise--cross my heart. Honest. Amen.”

Again you snorted, and you heard the man beside you rumble out another amused chuckle as well. “She certainly knows how to work the system,” he remarked.

“Oh, she’s completely incorrigible,” you told him. With that, you moved back into the room (regretfully slipping out from Ebenezer’s touch as you did) and approached the children. “All right, girls, very good. Now let’s get into bed.” You pulled back the thick covers and watched as they all filed between them one by one.

“We’re not sleepy yet,” Tilda and Maggie protested, despite snuggling in next to Millie.

“We want to stay up and try to catch Father Christmas!” Alice added enthusiastically.

An entire chorus of excited agreement went up from the girls

“But he won’t come unless you’re all sound asleep,” you countered, smiling the slightest bit. Oh, to be a child on Christmas Eve again!

“Why?” sweet little Judith asked.

All five sets of eyes shined brightly up at you in innocence and wonderment, awaiting an answer. An answer that you, admittedly, were a little bit stumped over. “Um… well… that’s just always been the way it is.”

“But why?” Millie pressed further.

“Because that’s how Father Christmas’ magic works!”

You and the girls turned to see Ebenezer coming into the room, slate-blue eyes as bright and shining as the children’s. He smiled and winked at you as he moved towards the bed. You felt your heart flutter just a bit, the slightest warmth of a blush color your cheeks. Thank God the flickering firelight would help conceal it.

The tall man went around the bed and sat on the side opposite you, beaming down at the snuggled-up little girls in a way that made your heart positively melt. “You see, girls, Father Christmas has a very special kind of magic that can only work when you are all asleep,” Ebenezer twisted up his face in a comically sneaky way and peered around conspiratorially as if he were about to relay a very important secret that only they were supposed to hear and then whispered, “because the magic is fueled by your Christmas dreams!”

You made saucer-wide eyes along with the girls and exclaimed, “Ooooh!”

“Yes,” Ebenezer continued. “That’s why you must all sleep tonight so that you may dream and give Father Christmas all the power he needs for his magic to work. Why without your dreams to help him, he would never be able to travel the world and deliver presents to all the little boys and girls! And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No!” Judith exclaimed, her eyes twice the size they normally were and so full of sweet innocence it broke your heart. She clutched her dolly preciously to her.

“No,” Ebenezer agreed with a serious shake of his silvery head. “I didn’t think so. So off to sleep for each of you.”

“How come we have to go to bed, but the grown-ups don’t have to?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t they be sleeping so their dreams can help the magic too?” Tilda added.

That time it was Ebenezer’s turn to look stumped. Clearly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his story. “Um… w-well-”

“Grown-ups’ dreams aren’t as powerful as children’s dreams,” you came to his rescue. “But we make up for it by helping Santa in making sure that all of the children go to bed on time so that he has enough magic when he needs it.”

“Precisely!” Ebenezer brightened, smiling gratefully at you. Then he became very serious and stern as he turned to the girls again. “Which is why you must all go to bed at once,” he ordered, poking a ticklish finger into each little girl's tummy, causing them to squeal with laughter. “Because if you do not go to sleep, we will be failing in our duty to Father Christmas! Understood?”

Still giggling, the girls all sounded off: “Yes, sir!”

“Very good!” Scrooge said, voice still gruff like a Sergeant Major General’s. “Now, good night!” With a devilish gleam in his eyes, the man loomed down over the girls and gave them each a good hard nuzzle on the face with his cheeks, evilly chuckling ‘good night’ over and over. The girls laughed harder and tried to push him away, shrieking and squealing about his “whisker tickles”. That only made him continue with more vigor.

You couldn’t help but laugh right along with them. “Ebenezer, at this rate you’ll get them so stirred up again they’ll never be able to sleep for Santa!”

Laughing as well, Ebenezer pulled back to give you an acquiescent smile. “I suppose you are right, my dear. Without these little ones’ dreams, Father Christmas may never get his sleigh off the ground!” With that, he turned back to the girls and leaned back in, only this time to administer gentle kisses to their brows. Each girl gave him a return kiss on the cheek; Millie went a bit further to reach up and hold his face in place as she blew a wet raspberry into his muttonchop. (The man grimaced but judging how he still smiled, he didn’t seem to mind too much.) “Good night, my lovies,” Ebenezer murmured softly, an adoring gentleness in his blue eyes. “Sweet dreams and happy Christmas.”

“Good night, Uncle Ebby!” the girls chorused as he stood to leave.

“Right to sleep now,” you told the girls as you too stood up and began to leave. “No talking. Remember Santa’s counting on you to help him work tonight.”

“Yes, Y/N/Auntie Y/N!”

There was still the faint noise of giggling and whispered chatter as you closed the door, but it was quickly beginning to die down. Ebenezer’s magic had worked.

A mildly disgusted groan caused you to turn and find the man in question wiping at his spittle-slicked cheek with his handkerchief.

You giggled and pulled out your own handkerchief from your sleeve. “Here, let me. Your silky thing won’t do the job.”

With a grateful smile, Ebenezer gentlemanly bowed his face towards you. "That girl is going to be a menace to society, I tell you," he said, only half-jokingly.

You hummed in agreement as you cleaned him up, still having to stand a bit on tiptoe to do so (lovely, tall man…). "Don't I know it? She is her father's daughter--George was a… character. But I adored him.” You gave him a knowing smile. “Just as you adore Millie."

Ebenezer gave you a playful scowl, the softness in his eyes saying you were right. “You’d better go see the boys now,” he said, once you’d finished drying him off. “And then we’d better check on the older children to make sure they got themselves to bed.”

You nodded and put your kerchief away. As you followed him down the hall, you were still thinking about Ebenezer’s story. You’d never heard anything like it before. “Where’d you come up with that?” you asked, looking up at him.

The man raised a bushy brow quizzically. “Beg pardon?”

“The story about Santa’s magic fueled by children’s dreams. Did you hear that somewhere or did you just make it up on the spot?”

Ebenezer smiled. “Oh, that.” He chuckled. “Well, yes, I did come up with it, as a matter of fact, when my sister and I were children.” A sort of sad haze came into the man’s beautiful eyes to mix with the happiness of the memory as he reminisced. “You see, Jen was like any other child on Christmas Eve--well so was I, rather, for a while at least. Apparently, our parents couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer as to why she should go to bed rather than stay up and wait for Father Christmas.”

“So you came up with the reason for why.”

“Exactly.”

“Did it work?”

“It did. And Jen would ask me about it every Christmas after, even beyond the point where we stopped believing.”

You smiled and gently nudged the tall man with your shoulder. “She liked the story,” you said. “It is a good story, I must say. Certainly much more fun than what we were given: Mama and George told us if we didn’t go to bed, Santa would simply pass right over our house. It seemed to do the trick for us. Although my final year of believing, I did sneak out of bed and stayed up.” You laughed at the memory. “Sakes alive, did I give poor old George a fright when he came down early to put the presents out! He just about took me over his knee to tan my hide!”

“And I take it catching your stepfather was what caused your belief to fade,” Ebenezer surmised, looking a little amused by your story.

“Yes,” you admitted a little forlornly. “It was sad. I think it’s always sad when you stop believing in that sort of magic.”

“Yes,” Ebenezer agreed, also looking just a bit sad. But then he quickly gave you a bright smile. “But then you discover a new magic in making the old magic for others, and then you begin to believe again.”

“Just in a different way,” you said, understanding his meaning.

The man only beamed in agreement. “That was a very nice addition to the story, I must say,” he said after a moment. “The bit about adult dreams not being as powerful as those of children.”

You raised your chin a bit haughtily and flipped a curl of your hair with a smug smile. “Why thank you, kind sir,” you purred. “I thought it was inspired.”

Ebenezer chuckled at that. “You know, I’d forgotten that story,” he remarked as you both pulled up in front of the door to the boys’ room. “Until now.” He had a distant, contemplative look in his eyes.

Feeling a bit bold, you reached out and grabbed his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. You smiled genuinely at him. “I’m glad you remembered it, Ebenezer,” you told him. “The girls enjoyed it and… and so did I. Truly.”

Ebenezer had looked a bit surprised when you’d taken his hand so suddenly. Now the surprise was fading back into warmth and affection. He squeezed your hand back. “Then I shall strive never to forget it again, Y/N.”

There was something in his manner; something extremely soft and unknown to you in his voice and gaze; something that warmed your being from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. For the umpteenth time, your heart fluttered--your breath caught in your throat. You may not have known what it was, but you knew you never wanted him to stop looking at or talking to you like that. Could… could he possibly- the thought was dismissed from your mind before it even had time to fully process. No. No, it wasn’t that; it wasn’t possible. Ebenezer saw you as his very dear friend and that was all; he would never look at you or speak to you in a way other than that. It was just fanciful thinking on your part that that warmth in his manner could be something more. Merely wishes. It was simply the merriment of the evening and the excess joy of the children rubbing off on everyone, enhancing every emotion. It was the spirit of Christmas--that was all.

You shook your head, clearing off the daze. “Well,” you said, clearing your throat before adding significant volume to your tone so you would be heard through the door, “we’d better go make sure these boys are asleep!” With that, you, rather reluctantly, let go of Ebenezer’s hand. And if you weren’t so deadset on Ebenezer seeing you as nothing more than a friend, you could have sworn his release was reluctant as well.

@the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting

#scrooge 2022 #ebenezer scrooge #ebenezer scrooge x reader #ebenezer scrooge x you #slow burn #romance #uncle ebenezer #married couple #pining--oh the pining!#children on christmas eve #that one character you KNOW is going to be an absolute little shiester but you'll adore them anyway #babysitting? kind of?#GIRL--HE LIKES YOU--GO FOR IT!!!#Can someone explain to me how to use the gif thing please? It takes forever for me to find anything I want #Youtube

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myers-meadow · 1 year

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Meadow, writer of mine, the light of this site. you always bring my asks justice (and so much more!!!)

actually shed a tear or two because I knew you took the time out of your day to write my silly little self indulgent ask <3<3<3 your writing always blows me away, anD?!?

that message at the end? Has me in tears (happy tears!!)

it brings me so much serotonin knowing that you enjoy me being in/flooding your ask box!

and like?! Otis and somnophilia just go hand in hand 👀

screaming, kicking my legs, and twirling my hair at the thought of me laying my head down on Otis’s lap and sleeping while he plays with my hair 🥺

The fact that you also made it a kinda long post has me in shambles because that just means so much to me <3<3

thank you, writer of mine, for always answering my asks, no matter how goofy, silly, or horny they are, I appreciate you, and what you do so much <3 (can’t get the idea of just waking up to Otis drawing me I just jsgsianja I love that rat man so much <3<3<3)

❎-

Anytime! You're very welcome here <3

For fear of repeating myself too much I will try to be brief: thank you so much for your kind words of appreciation and letting me know that I did well!

Besides feel grateful that my words can mean something to someone; i am incredibly happy to share my love for Otis and the movie with someone who understands! You have no idea how glad I am, really. I'm genuinely very interested in your thoughts and I'd love to hear more of them. If one day you're comfortable enough, you're very welcome in my DMs too, in addition to the askbox :)) But no worries if not! I get it <3

AND I can feel the urge to make moodboards return to me, so if you have any prompts, or a description of imagines or anything - send it in and I'll make some! I'm gonna make some Otis (and perhaps an Otis selfship one;;) ones when I have the time ^^

Sorry for this gushy answer with little Otis thoughts - more next time, and hopefully I'll have an actual fic or drabble finished soon-ish ^^

#ask #anon #thank you so much ;;;;;w;;#i am saving your kind messages to look at when i feel down about my writing <3

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wicked-jade · 2 years

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For the ask game, I'm curious about 33, 38, and/or 39 (multiple choice, depending on what's already been asked but not yet answered!)

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

Once in a blue moon, I'll decide to sketch something. It's always just pencil portraits, usually of whatever blorbo from my shows I'm obsessing over at that time, lol. I have no art training whatsoever, it's just something I occasionally get in my head to do. I'll knock out a few drawings, and then not feel the urge to draw anything for a few years.

I used to play both piano (and saxophone, back when I was in school) but I haven't played either in years. But I'll always love music, and it usually ends up influencing my writing, even though I can't actually write while music is playing.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I'm not sure there's anything weird about my process. Or that I even have what I'd call a process, lol. I'm generally pretty scatterbrained, very disorganized, and easily distracted by shiny new things. So I skip around from fic to fic a lot. I also need complete and total silence to write, but I don't think it's that strange. Again, I'm very easily distracted. Even ambient music doesn't work.

Some of my best writing has come when I was severely sleep deprived. Like, when you're exhausted, but you force yourself to stay awake, and then you push past it and sort of catch a second wind? Those are some of the moments when I'm the most focused. But that's just deeply unhealthy instead of weird, and I'm trying not to do that on purpose anymore.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

I'm not sure I'm the one to answer this, since I have given up writing before, lol.

It seems like the obvious answer, but comments and feedback are honestly great motivators. Yes, I mostly write for myself and what I want to see, but no one likes the feeling of posting to an empty room. We write for ourselves, but share for the sense of community. There were definitely times when I was stuck on a chapter of "Bad Luck" and was seriously ready to just throw up my hands and quit, and then a really kind comment would come in, saying something in my writing moved someone or made their shitty day a little better. And that would give me the little push I needed to keep going.

Also kicking around ideas with friends. Bouncing new ideas off people sometimes gives me the spark I need when I start to get bored with what I'm doing.

There's also a bit of stubbornness involved, as well. Like, I'm going to finish this damn thing, even if it kills me, lol.

Thanks for the asks! 🥰

#writing ask game

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xanfeursel · 5 months

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heard you were bored so here are some questions :) (i realized halfway through that these are all durgetash because those little shits have taken over my mind) do you like leaning into the angst of durgetash or do you prefer the more lighthearted (aside from the atrocities) dynamic? if larian dropped a gortash romance, is there any icks that would absolutely ruin it for you?

or conversely, what would be the best thing they could add in a hypothetical gortash route?

what were your biggest inspirations for lophi and vyper? do you prefer one over the other or are they equal in your eyes?

(hopefully you won't have to answer these since you'll get out of work soon)

HELLO ANON. im sorry to tell you infact waited till i actually got home to answer these because i have!!! THOUGHTS and OPINIONS about the questions asked . thank you very much btw these are all really good questions ill have fun answering

FIRSTLY, it all depends on the kind of durge gortash is being paired w imo. with vyper i tend to lean more into These Two Are Fucking Insane while w/ lophi i lean more into the sort of melancholic 'angsty' side of durgetash that i think can be real yummy too. and it's all because of who vyper and lophi are as characters pre-tadpole, too. vyper liked being a loud insane freakus while lophi was a lot more reserved and kind of a miserable mess, and that informs their relationships w/ the characters around them. i think both are good and fun to explore and i definitely like exploring the more angsty side w vyper x gortash and vice versa w lophi x gortash, so. i guess both. really. LOL .

secondly, going to answer both of the gort romance related questions in one, but i think i'm probably in the unpopular opinion that gortash doesn't really neeeeeeeed a romance and i could go without it in game. i do think he deserves more content and screentime, but that's something i can say about orin also, and frankly a Lot of parts of act 3. me and act 3 have a toxic on/off again relationship. alright.

that being *said*, if i was mr larian and i was to implement a gortash romance, i'd have it be something exclusive to a durge/evil run. or at the very least, have it have consequences with your party (i.e karlach leaving or something. love gort but i do not think you should go off romancing him scott free).

i Do think having it be exclusive to a more evil-aligned run would help add more actual content to doing an evil run (and god knows we need some with how bg3 seems to like punishing people who just want to do the evil options They Gave You) and would make the most sense, but all in all i'd just hope it's handled better than the mizora sex scene cause god how that whole thing is handled still pisses me off. hopefully this all makes sense

tl;dr, its a fun idea but i can very easily go without it especially knowing how the game treated its one other antagonist romance option

now for the lophi and vyper question... i do obviously have my biases towards vyper /looks at my blog theme/, but i genuienlly cannot pick favourites with them besides that... i use them both to explore different aspects of the durge origin in different ways bc despite what some other people say i Do think you can be very flexible w durge as a concept despite the pre-established lore for them ^_^ and i think it's very fun to play around with.

as for specific inspirations, lophi takes a lot of insp from vintage pierrot art + has accidentally gotten a very 1920s makeup vibe in My Mind. i should also note her name comes from the scientific name for anglerfish, cuz thats what i had in mind when giving her those freaky sharp ass teeth i always draw her with

and while of course, both of my durges are trans, lophi specifically was birthed from my want to make a dark urge that leans in as heavily as she possibly could in the whole trans allegory thing. so theres that as well!

vyper's specific inspos are harder for me to pinpoint cause he's much more of a 'made up as i went' character than lophi, given he was my First dark urge and i didnt really fully know what i was going into all this yet while making him (and also i was maybe a little bit high while doing so...lol) THAT SAID THOUGH, i did initially make him with akira fudo from devilman in mind. he has the horn style he does because it reminded me of devilman ... although the akira insp is very lose and barely effects his character now.. ~_~ despite bg3 being my main fixation atm devilman is still a very very important piece of media to me so vyper being loosely akira-pilled is not too surprising if you know me well enough lololol

#rev txt #THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THIS ASK THIS WAS REALLY FUN FOR ME TO ANSWER #oc:lophi #oc:vyper #long post

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kaerran · 9 months

Text

#4 Off the Hook

[original plan was qahs'a absolutely DID haul midas halfway across the world but in retrospect that's pretty ridiculous. continuing from previous]

Qahs'a looked at the airships hangar, and the one conspicuously empty bay. After a minute, he sighed and looked back at Midas.

Midas was luckily still out cold.

Qahs'a poked him, just to make sure, then hiked him back over his shoulder and walked back the way he came. No need to draw more attention to Cid's escape. It sure made his options limited, but he'd rather Cid succeeded than potentially ruin his chances for some guy who might not even work out anyway.

He carefully climbed onto various boxes and tucked himself and Midas into a convenient rooftop corner. A quick check for any eavesdroppers (none, since all the Garlean patrols were very busy dealing with the ruins of the lab), another quick check to make sure they were very out of sight, and Qahs'a raised a hand to his ear.

'Aren't you glad you don't need my help anymore?' Ardbert said lightly.

'Har har,' Qahs'a shot back before his linkpearl connected. "Alisaie?"

"You'd better not be calling because you're about to die or something," she grumbled. "Did something go wrong?"

"Ah, uh, not that I know of. Midas nan Garlond's lab is now a smoking pile of rubble and Cid safely got out of town on an airship. Which is my problem, since I was going to steal an airship too and didn't expect I'd land in Bozja the day he fled. Is there any chance you can meet me somewhere a little closer than Dravania? I don't think hauling a tempered Imperial scientist across two continents is a very good idea."

There was a pause before the connection abruptly cut out. Qahs'a blinked, shrugged, and waited for Alisaie to call back.

It took a few minutes before his linkpearl rang, which was… not ideal but hopefully it'd be fine. Qahs'a answered.

"So. Why did you think it was a good idea to kidnap Midas nan Garlond?" She still sounded angry, unfortunately.

"I thought it was worth a shot to see if he'd be useful. Major Garlean scientist, well connected, you know?"

Alisaie sighed noisily. "Yeah, that's the problem, while he might be grateful for the untempering, he's also not likely to want to stay away from the Empire, especially if he can bring the Emperor back information about people who can untemper."

Qahs'a hummed.

"Besides, won't someone notice he's not in the lab rubble?"

Qahs'a shrugged, then remembered he had to talk. "Do people notice that kind of thing? I could… try to shove him back in there but there's a lot of patrols."

"Yeah, don't try that."

"He fell on a bunch of screens and they all started making weird noises, maybe they'll think he blew it up himself."

Alisaie went quiet again, and Qahs'a wondered if she was resisting the urge to yell at him again. Finally, she said, very evenly, "Hopefully they take that as a sign that Midas is a traitor, yes. Did you have any other plans?"

Qahs'a made another neutral noise. "I didn't really think past wondering if I could do it, since I know Cid was really upset about Bozja generally."

Alisaie sighed, then said, "Fine, if you can figure out a way to get to Yedlihmad without being murdered by a Bahamut-tempered Garlean then why not, we can untemper him and see what happens. Call me when you get closer, since I'm not going to wait there for you."

"It's probably fine," Qahs'a mentioned. "I mean, he's mostly a non combatant and I left his gun behind."

"Why--no. I don't want to know," Alisaie says, and abruptly closes the connection again.

Qahs'a smiled to himself, then started plotting his way back.

#ffxiv #qahs'a jaab #ffxivwrite2023

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erensproudsimp · 3 years

Text

Chef D'œuvre

Jean kirstein x Reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread

Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.

Word count:4.1k

Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta

Cross-posted on ao3

Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.

Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.

"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.

"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.

Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.

What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.

Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.

"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.

"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.

"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.

"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.

Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.

"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.

Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.

"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.

Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.

"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.

Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.

"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.

"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.

A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.

"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.

"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.

"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.

"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.

"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.

For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.

"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.

" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.

"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.

" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.

"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"

"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."

"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.

"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."

His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.

After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.

Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.

Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.

"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"

Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.

Jean's breath hitched in his throat.

"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.

"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.

"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.

"You have no idea."

You chucked and approached him slowly.

"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.

Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.

"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "

"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.

Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.

"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"

"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.

"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.

"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.

Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.

Jean's POV

'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '

Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.

"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"

On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.

Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.

The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.

"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.

His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.

Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.

Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.

"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.

To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.

Your POV

"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.

Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.

You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.

Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.

"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.

-Time skip-

A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.

Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.

"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.

Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.

"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.

"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.

Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.

The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.

" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."

"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.

In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.

"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.

"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"

"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.

Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.

"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.

"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.

"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.

"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.

You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.

"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.

His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.

Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.

Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.

"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.

"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.

Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.

Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.

"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.

Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.

Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.

His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.

Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.

"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.

Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.

"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.

"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.

Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.

"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.

Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.

A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.

Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.

"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.

Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.

"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.

Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.

Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.

"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.

" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.

" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "

"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.

His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.

" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.

"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.

"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"

"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.

"Look at you, such a good girl."

It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.

In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.

"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.

"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.

Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.

Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.

"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.

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sofreddie · 3 years

Text

Scent from Above 2

Summary: The morning after.

Characters: Alpha!Jensen x Omega!Fan!Reader

ABO BINGO: Daisies/Fresh Bread/Pine

Word Count: 1,672

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Scenting, Scent Bond, Smut (Use of condoms, Knotting), Mentions of Marking/Claiming/Mating, Fluff

A/N: Attention thirsty bitches...get your cups ready. : ) Each part of this series will feature an @spnabobingo square.

PART 1

Jensen woke with a groan and a stretch. As he moved, he felt another warm body beside him. He cracked open his eyes, seeing Y/N in his arms, neither of them having moved from the night before. He wasn't sure what to do as he watched her sleeping.

Should he wake her?

Should he try to crawl from the bed and let her sleep?

He quickly remembered that she was in heat as she shifted to her back. Her scent struck him, drawing him in once more, his nose drifting to the scent gland in her neck.

He breathed deeply of her, musing on her scent. There was something flowery, like daisies. Something warm and rich, like fresh-baked bread. He breathed deeply once more, catching the earthy undertones of pine. Each layer brought on a feeling of home and warmth and familiarity.

After a few minutes, he decided that maybe he was being a little creepy, and maybe he should try to occupy himself until she's ready to wake. So he carefully removed himself from the bed and ordered breakfast via room service, not thinking it wise for them to be apart or in public in their conditions.

Jensen took a quick shower and dressed in a t-shirt and track pants just in time for the food to arrive. As he removed the lids and the aromas filled the space, Y/N stirred awake.

"Good morning," Jensen beamed at her as she shuffled into the main seating area of the suite.

"Morning," she blushed at him, running her fingers through her tangled hair. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her and he silently reminded himself it was only the beginning.

"Are you hungry?" he offered, gesturing to the cart, "I didn't know what you liked, so I got a little of everything."

She smiled warmly at him, "Could I take a quick shower first?" she asked, noting he already had. He nodded and silently guided her to the bathroom, watching as the door closed behind her.

He was absolutely not going to think about her naked and wet behind that door.

As he heard the shower turn on, he realized she didn't have a change of clothes with her. He quickly dug through his suitcase, finding another simple t-shirt and pants. He went to the bathroom and knocked on the door lightly, but there was no response. He took a deep breath and cracked the door open just enough to place the clothes on the counter before quickly shutting it again.

Jensen had started digging into the food by the time she came out. Her hair was down and damp, her face free of the makeup she had been wearing. His clothes draped her frame and the Alpha in him felt proudly possessive.

"Thanks for the clothes," she said as she sat on the couch with a respectable distance between them. She was nervous, not sure what to expect, and distracted herself with breakfast, "I'm in another room here," she explained, "Just a few floors down."

"What room? I'll have them send up your stuff."

"What? No," she protested, "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own things."

"It's not such a good idea to go anywhere," he began hesitantly, "And I'm not really sure I could handle it if you did," he added bashfully.

She was surprised. As she showered she thought about the events of the night before. How could she not? She was sure he would politely tell her it was a mistake, it was his rut, anything really to back out of it. But here he was, seemingly still sure.

They ate in relative silence, exchanging smiles and giggles between bites of food. They were both trying to ignore the fact that their biologies were ramping up once more, their urges becoming prevalent.

"Come here," Jensen softly spoke as he tugged at her. She went willingly, letting him guide her to straddle his lap on the couch. He buried his nose in her neck once more, humming in satisfaction as he took his fill of her. She scented him in turn, slowly allowing herself to believe it was real.

He placed a wet kiss on her neck, making her moan. He did it once more, teasing the tip of his tongue and her hips involuntarily ground down against his.

He was so very hard and so very there.

A moan slipped past his lips and Y/N shuttered. It was the most erotic sound she'd ever heard and she felt a swell of pride at being the one to bring it from him. She did it again, slowly and more purposefully this time, teasing them both.

"You want that, Omega?" he breathily asked as he ground up against her core, his hands squeezing her hips.

"So much, Alpha," she replied, before kissing him hard. Jensen responded eagerly, opening his mouth for her as she introduced her tongue. He moaned again, her hips now steadily working against him.

Their clothes were quickly shed, each piece being thrown without care as they bared themselves to one another.

"Condom?" she asked bashfully as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Jensen blindly retrieved one, his face buried in Y/N's breasts as he licked and sucked at her supple flesh. He held it up to show her, still preoccupied. She chuckled and took it from him, opening it with her teeth.

"Wait," he said, finally lifting his head from her chest to meet her eyes after she rolled the condom down his shaft, "Don't you want me to-" his fingers strayed to her core and she shook her head adamantly.

"No," she breathed, "Just you."

She shifted her hips and sunk down on his length with a long moan. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her tightly to him. The breath was punched out of him. She surprised him, he wasn't ready. But at the same time, he was so fucking ready.

Hell, he was ready to take her and claim her in the alleyway last night.

After they both adjusted, he loosened his hold, keeping his arms securely around her. She pulled back to look into his eyes as she began to move, sliding slowly up and down. Her jaw dropped open, the sensation of his thick girth pushing and stretching against her walls amazingly perfect.

Jensen almost couldn't stand the intensity, the intimacy of her gaze. This was quickly becoming the sappiest moment of his life and he couldn't complain one bit.

"J-Jay," she breathed out, adjusting her hips to a new angle and pressing her chest against his. His eyes fluttered closed at the sound of her calling his name. He groaned and went straight for her neck. After a good long scent, he opened his mouth, licking a line before clamping his lips down to suck a dark mark.

She cried out, her hips jerking, and he thrust up in response, sucking harder.

"D-don't claim me," she stuttered, riding him hard for the both of them.

"Not this time," he reluctantly agreed with a smirk.

He wanted to. God did he want to. He knew she was his and he was hers. But he also knew that she needed time to adjust. That she wasn't ready. That she wanted it but hadn't fully let herself believe it. He'd give her all the time she needed.

She panted as she rode him and he thrust up into her. He couldn't get the angle or speed that he wanted. And he wanted to be deeper. With a frustrated snarl, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped her on her back on the couch swiftly, still buried inside her.

She gasped and he plunged hard, knocking her body up the couch a few inches.

"Yes!" she cried out desperately, her nails digging into his shoulders. He growled and gave her all he had, riding them hard through their highs.

His knot popped and his teeth ached as his eyes locked onto her pulse beating rapidly beneath the taut skin of her neck. Feeling himself lose control, he turned his head, biting down into the couch cushion and growling as he emptied himself into the condom.

His teeth didn't release the pillow until his body calmed and he felt the urge pass. He immediately buried his face in her neck, lapping against the dark purple mark he'd left earlier, his mind letting him pretend it was his claim.

They spent the next few days in much the same fashion until her heat and his rut had finally passed.

"Stay just one more night with me?" he asked as she came out of the bathroom in her own clothes. Jensen ended up having her things delivered after all, "My flight's pretty early in the morning. But we can spend one more night," he pleaded, his hands on her waist as she shouldered her Winchester Bros. branded weekend bag.

He didn't miss the opportunity to playfully rib her over it either.

"I can't, Jay," she pouted. She had quickly adopted the nickname for him and he was thrilled with how comfortable she grew around him in such a short amount of time. He did his best all weekend to show - and say - just how much he wanted her and how sure about them he was.

"If you let me claim you we could take Mate Leave," he grinned.

She playfully slapped his shoulder and scolded him, "I just want both of us to be totally sure before making such a permanent commitment," she said for the umpteenth time that weekend.

"Next time then," he joked, wiggling his brows, "I stole one of your shirts, FYI," he added, blushing, "I think I'd go insane if I didn't have your scent around me."

"I guess that's okay," she said, "'Cause I took one of yours too," she looked to the ground bashfully. He laughed before cupping her face and kissing her hard.

"We'll find a way to see each other soon," he promised.

PART 3

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

@deanjensenficsandart

@woodworthti666

@charred-angelwings

#spnabobingo #alpha!jensen x omega!reader #jensen x reader #scent from above #part 2 #smut #a/b/o dynamics

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

P̶h̶i̶l̶o̶p̶h̶o̶b̶i̶a̶

___________________________

Peter Parker x Reader

Requested|| (ANON) If this is not too much trouble, could I request something with the reader always trying to run from relationships because all the men in her life hurt her, and then she meets Peter and she's trying so hard not to fall for him, so he starts thinking that there's something wrong with him, until she tells him that she doesn't wanna get hurt again and he's all like 🥺 I'd never hurt you and it's all fluff?

Warnings|| major angst, slight smut but nothing crazy (minors dni)

Author’s Notes|| this kinda sucks but oh well someone will like it lmao

___________________________

You sat at the bar wallowing in sadness as if the world’s problems revolve around you. You felt stupid and selfish but you could brush the feeling. You downed yet another drink waving the waiter for another who smiled sympathetically before handing you another glass.

“Hey,” a familiar pulled you from your sulking.

“How’d you find me?” you said quietly.

“Got lucky I guess,” that was a lie; he swung throughout all of downtown New York for the past hour looking for you.

“I suppose you here cause…” you trailed off.

“What happened?” he sat down next to you.

You were hanging with Peter in his room playing video games. You two had a beer just talking as friends do.

Friends.

Friends don’t usually sit this close to each other.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just feeling a little tired,” you responded.

“You want to stay here tonight?”

“I- I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I insist. It’s pretty late and a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out so late.”

“Peter.”

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncom-”

“Maybe I should go,” don’t let him in; he’s just gonna break your heart like the rest of them.

“Y/n,” he stood up with you.

“Why are you running?”

“What?” you defended.

“You’re running away from me. This isn’t the first time you've done this," he explained walking up to you. You instinctively backed away almost insulting Peter. The look in his face was as if you broke his heart. You felt overwhelmed and you needed to get out.

You pulled open the door abruptly hearing your name being shouted. You hurried down the stairs to the busy streets of New York instantly hailing a cab. He asked where to and you gave him a bill telling him however far it would take you.

Peter ran back upstairs freaking out. He pulled his phone out and tried calling you first, he honestly didn’t know what had happened. Peter’s had an infatuation with you since the day you walked through the door in his class.

You two quickly became friends and although Peter wanted something more you always declined his advances and Peter respected that. That didn’t stop him from sharing his fair share of flirty comments that you had always seemed to laugh at. But this time he knew he fucked up calling you pretty but he doesn’t exactly know why it scared you so much.

He suited up quickly and flew out the window searching every bar, club, cafe, library that you could possibly be in. His heartbeat quickened every passing minute that he couldn’t find you until after over an hour of searching and panicking and no response to his phone calls he finally found you. He quickly changes before heading inside as naturally as he could possibly act to not make you even more uncomfortable.

“Hey.”

“I don’t know,” you responded to him.

“Is it me? Is there something wrong with me? Did I do something out of line?”

“No, it’s not you, Peter,” you said, slightly raising your voice but not enough to draw attention.

“Can you at least explain to me what’s making you upset because I hate seeing you like this,” Peter said softly.

“I was just having a bad day,” you lied.

“The other day too? I know there’s something bothering you and I want to help you; I really care about you.”

“You can’t help me,” you said frustratingly.

“Why?” he urged.

“Because it’s about you!”

“But-”

“Gah! Peter, just- ugh!” you rubbed your face stressfully. You don’t want but the way you treated him and how you’ve done this too many times to be considered ‘a bad day’, you owe him an explanation; no matter how hard it’ll be to admit.

“Y/n,” he whispered, reaching out to touch you, making you flinch.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked fearfully.

"No! It’s not that,” you teared up.

“Peter, I’m falling in love with you and it terrifies me,” you whispered, stray tears falling gracefully down your cheeks.

“What?” Peter was indeed surprised. Of course he dreamed about what it would be like if you loved him back but because of the way you avoided him and avoided even the topic of relationships altogether, this was the last thing he was expecting you to say.

“All my life, I thought there was something wrong with me. I was so confused how people can just break someone’s heart so easily. And yet, I still fell in love, over and over again just to get hurt in the end. It went on too long, and I let it. I told myself love is dead. Then I met you. You ruined my plans of dying sad and alone. I tried so hard to not fall but I can’t help it. The second I see you, I get these butterflies in my belly, and it feels like my skin crawls but like not in a bad way, you know? And I’m scared; it scares me,” you cried.

“Y/n,” Peter whispered, bringing his hand up to your back, rubbing softly.

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through all that and I know that my words and promises won’t do much. I just want you to at least hear me. You are the beautiful woman I’ve laid my eyes on, just being around you is enough to make me feel happier. Everyday I wake up thinking about you and-nand I go to sleep with you on my mind. All I do think about you; your smile, your eyes, your lips, your- your body,” he mumbled the last part shyly.

“Y/n, I- I want to be the one that loves you; so much that you wouldn’t even think about heartbreak, you’d forget what it feels altogether."

His words hit you hard. You wanted that; you were so tired of running away but you don’t know if you can handle one more heartbreak; especially from Peter, the guy you fell so hopelessly in love with. Is it worth the risk?

“I just want to feel loved, truly and genuinely loved,” you cried.

Peter moved your hair from your face and wiped the tears with his thumb. One look into his dreamy brown eyes and you fell. Hard.

Peter pressed you against the back of his bedroom door. His lips were soft and velvety against yours. Your hands were intertwined and your stomach couldn’t help the eruption of butterflies. You’ve never particularly felt this emotive before for someone especially so intimately. His lips kissed the shell of your ear so softly you barely felt it.

“My pretty girl,” he whispered before pulling you to the bed.

You sat down lifting your arms for Peter who slowly pulled your hoodie over your head. He kneeled in front of you and pressed kisses down your torso making you wiggle and giggle. His hands cupped your breasts softly, squeezing playfully as his teeth nipped at your skin along your belly.

He brought his hands to your bottoms and you lifted your hips to let him take it off. Once he did, he stood up quickly removing his one clothes and you sat up reaching out to touch his extremely toned torso. He grabbed a condom from the drawer beside the bed and hummed softly at your hands that roamed his body lovingly.

He rolled the condom over his throbbing cock, crawling over you with a devilish smirk. He dipped his head in the crook of your neck kiss softly making you softly moan and sigh in pleasure. Your belly burned with desire aching for his cock. You wrapped your legs around his hips hissing when he pushed himself past your slick folds.

“You’re a bit bigger than I anticipated,” you choked out.

“You need a minute?” he cupped your face.

You weakly nodded holding onto Peter tightly. Once you felt better and the pressure slowly dissipated, Peter brought his hips back and pushed again in you slowly. Your moans bounced off the walls as Peter thrusts sped up.

“You feel so good, baby,” you pressed his forehead against yours.

“Fucking hell,” Peter breathed out.

His thrusts became sloppily and your skin slapped against each other loudly. You moans got louder and higher and Peter’s lower and rougher. Soon enough you couldn’t hold it any longer; your body contracting and tightening under him desperate to cum.

“Pete-”

“Go ahead, baby girl. Let go,” he looked into your eyes.

You let your orgasm rip through you, letting your back arch into Peter and your toes curl. Peter’s mother opened but no sound came through as he reached his own high. His arms gave out after he climaxed and collapsed atop of you. Your body slightly trembled as you calmed yourself.

“Please, please don’t break my heart,” you cried.

“I promise. I could never hurt you,” he kissed you passionately. He could taste your salty tears that stained your lips and tugged on his heart. He held you closely as you fell asleep never once letting go. And for once you felt loved.

Truly, and genuinely loved.

============

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

#peter parker #peter parker smut #aged!up peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #marvel smut #marvel fics

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3

MASTERLIST

Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.

Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.

She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.

It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.

Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.

"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.

"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.

She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.

"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.

Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."

"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.

Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.

She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.

Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.

Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.

They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.

He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.

But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.

And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.

That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.

Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.

"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"

Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.

"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.

With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.

Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.

And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.

"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."

Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.

It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.

That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.

It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.

"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"

"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"

Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."

"Oh."

Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.

And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.

She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?

Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.

But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.

"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."

"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."

"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"

Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.

"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."

"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."

Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.

"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"

"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.

Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.

"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."

"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."

That line gutted her.

It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?

Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.

She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.

"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.

"Absolutely. I'll help."

"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."

Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."

"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."

"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.

She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.

Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.

"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.

The tension was palpable.

Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.

Because she would've.

"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.

That stung a little bit.

"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.

"Great."

Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"

"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"

"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.

Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.

She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.

"Thanks."

Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.

It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.

She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.

But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.

"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."

"It is."

"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."

Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.

"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.

Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. I'll stop by."

"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."

It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.

"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.

"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."

Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.

"That's bullshit."

"How so?"

"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."

Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.

But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.

She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.

The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.

And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.

"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."

She laughed, turning to face Isla.

"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."

The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.

"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."

#tig trager #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Six Bodies In An Alley.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: pretty graphic descriptions of gore, death, blood imagery

Context: the reader lives in Santa Carla, and has befriended the boys, but still has no idea what they are, so is in for a surprise when they go looking for their brother one night, only to find them in the middle of business they'd rather the reader didn't see.

A/N: I reckon I'll turn this into a two-part story, seeing as it is a bit inconclusive, and the boys don't play a massive part just yet, so I'd better get down to that😂💛

Masterlist

"Three hours late. How on earth is anyone ever three hours late to anything?" I mutter irritably to myself as I push through the crowd, aiming to get off the Boardwalk as quickly as possible, my confused yet annoyed mood giving me the confidence to actively shove people out of my way, choosing to ignore any protests as I move past them. Two or three of them try to grab my arm, but I don't give them the time of day, pulling myself from their grip without even turning to them, worry starting to creep into me as I glance back down at my watch, knowing how late it now is.

A couple of days ago, my younger brother got in contact, telling me that he'll be in Santa Carla for a few days, and would like to meet up, having taken a couple of weeks off from his job in New York, where he's been holed up for months. Naturally, I'd jumped at the opportunity, glad to finally be able to show him around the little coastal town, and to be able to introduce him to the friends I've made in my time living here, seeing as he has not seen me since we both left our hometown, back when our mother passed away. We arranged to meet up on the Boardwalk around seven, but he never turned up, leaving me to wait in the bustling area with no clue as to his whereabouts. The hours dragged on, three of them passing before I finally had enough of worrying, deciding to go looking for him as my curiosity spiked, which is where I find myself now, a frown etched onto my face as I push through the writhing bodies around me.

After a good ten minutes of wrestling with the crowd, I manage to reach a main road, where the pedestrian traffic is a lot thinner, allowing me to see the surroundings with more ease. Still unable to spot either him or his recognizable car, I start to walk towards the outskirts of the town, where it is likely he may have gotten lost, pulling my jacket tighter around me as the air becomes cooler, the lack of people around me making the cold breeze more noticeable. Biting my lip, I try to suppress the urge to turn back and get somewhere warmer, continuing on into the dimly lit back roads looping around the town, an odd feeling starting to grow in the back of my mind, an inbuilt instinct telling me something is wrong, and that I'm not safe. Ignoring it, I start to observe the few cars parked here and there, struggling to see in the strangely foggy light, aware that the streetlights don't illuminate everything around me, meaning there are a lot of blindspots surrounding me.

At first, I don't recognise any of the vehicles lingering by the side of the road, my hopes briefly flaring up as I see a similar car, only to realise it is the wrong model and is, in fact, not the gaudy crimson colour I thought it was, a realisation that draws a curse from me. It takes another twenty minutes of searching before I finally find the right one, my suspicions having been confirmed when I see the scarlet car parked on the curb, the engine idling in the now-freezing night air. Relieved, I go over to it, knocking on the window of the driver's side, waiting for him to roll it down, or get out of the car. When neither happens, I bend over to look into the interior, my brow furrowing when I find it empty, the keys still in the ignition despite the fact that the driver is clearly missing. Straightening, I look over the exterior of the car, noticing that the back left tyre is flat, my eyes wandering to the back windows, though there is nothing behind them when I check, expecting to see the familiar sight of my brother sleeping on the backseats.

Frowning, I step away from the car, trying to think where he may have gone, going over all the possible places he could've walked to in the area, though I don't know this particular area as well as I'd like, my knowledge of the surrounding streets slightly limited. Chewing my lip, I go back to the car and switch off the engine, taking the keys with me as I decide to check if there are any garages anywhere nearby, knowing my brother is unlikely to leave the car running unless he is going to return to it relatively quickly. Locking the vehicle, I start back up the road, cursing myself for not checking up on him sooner, worry still biting at the back of my mind as I try to focus on finding him again.

I don't go far, expecting him to have stayed in the area, stopping and turning back when I reach another badly lit junction, at which point I finally acknowledge something off about the last half an hour: the streets are deserted, not a living soul passing me as I traipse the dark pavements. At this realisation, the instinctual feeling from before returns, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end as goosebumps appear on my skin, an irrational fear clouding my judgement as I turn and start walking hurriedly back the way I came, intending to reach the car again so that I can at least memorize it's whereabouts and collect it in the morning. My brother must've found his way into town or something, though it is odd that he left his prized car alone, with the engine still idling, something he's never really done. I try to reassure myself of this fact as my mind becomes ever more convinced that I'm not safe, my pace inadvertently picking up at the thought of something happening to me. It's only when I pass close to an alley that I slow, halting in my step as something catches my attention.

Taking a breath, I approach the alley, my instincts telling me to run and get away from here, still fully aware that I can't see every inch of the area around me, due to the bad coverage of the streetlights. Despite this, I still manage to make out the shape that caught my eye, instantly recognising it as human, though it isn't moving, not even to breathe, which is odd. As I move closer to the person, I become aware of the other people lying a little way away, one of them separate from the rest, a putrid stench floating up from them all, making my eyes water slightly at the strength of it. Wrinkling my nose, I crouch down beside the first person, intending to ask them where I am and if they've seen my brother pass them, only to let out a half scream when her head rolls forwards, a thick liquid rushing down her front as it does.

In the dim light, her eyes stare up at me, glassy and unseeing, her face mutilated and caked with dark blood, bone and muscle visible under the torn skin. Her hair hangs in filthy strands over her shoulders, though it moves out of the way to reveal a deep hole in her chest, as if her ribs caved in over her heart, puncturing her lungs and heart, which are just visible under the slick covering of blood, all the skin that would normally cover her torso torn into shreds and peeled away to reveal the musculature beneath. Flies are already gathering around the reeking corpse, a few rats even starting to crawl up her slashed arms, eager to get hold of this new meal, the whole sight making me want to throw up, bile starting to rise in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I stand, tearing my gaze away from her.

A quick glance proves to me that the rest are all similarly mangled, their blood black in the dusky lighting, pools of the stuff gathering in the dips in the pavement around their corpses, the stench emanating from these vile puddles. Horror and fear, as well as panic, well up in me, my body starting to shake as I remain rigid, standing there for a good few minutes before I manage to collect my thoughts again, thinking through what could possibly have happened. Was it a freak animal attack? Are there rabid creatures waiting in the shadows to tear me apart, as they have done to these people?

As I think this through, one thought surfaces, a pang of deep fear striking me as I quickly go to each body, frantically checking their faces for a familiar one, gagging and wincing as I see the bloodied scraps that are left of their visages, their blood soon coating my hands and shirt from where I've handled their lifeless cadavers. In total, there are six bodies, and five of them are unfamiliar to me, so I approach the sixth with some hesitation, my steps slow and cautious, as if to delay the inevitable, though it isn't long until the face of the person comes into view, the unmistakable shape of his jaw and bone structure sending an icy bolt of horror through me.

It's my brother.

Gasping, I trace to his side and collapse to the floor, eyes finding the wounds littering his body, widening as they take in the gory mess that is the remains of his throat, as well as the mangled stump where his right arm used to be. A wave of nausea threatens to crash over me as I try to concentrate, unsure of whether this is really happening, my hands reaching out, gingerly, to trace a clean patch of his skin, a strangled sob leaving me at the feeling of his frigid skin beneath mine. Just in time, I turn to the side and allow the contents of my stomach to empty themselves onto the pavement, my stomach unable to hold itself together as I try not to break down completely; I continue to throw up for a good five minutes, a painful cramp setting in as I am reduced to dry-heaving.

I barely register the sounds of a group of people rounding the corner, their voices familiar to me as they joke with each other, laughter accompanying the cynical words of their leader. It's only when they stop a few metres away, voices fading into shocked silence, that I look up, terror filling me as I take in their appearance, identifying them immediately: Paul, Marko, Dwayne and David.

My eyes take their forms, horror and panic building up in me as I take in their bloodied appearances, discomposure filling me as I notice the concentration of the brackish fluid around their chins and mouth, before my eyes lift to their other features. Upon seeing them, I back away, confusion and fear evident on my face as I slowly get to my feet, continuing to edge away from them as they start to come closer - their features are distorted, their brows pulled into longer, grotesque caricatures of their usually handsome faces, blazing yellow eyes ringed with crimson following my every move, razor sharp fangs poking out from under their top lips as they go to speak, each pale tooth stained scarlet.

Without a second thought, I turn and run.

Adrenaline gives me speed, my pulse pounding in my ears as I race back onto the street I was on before, my breathing becoming harsh and ragged as I push myself into my fastest pace. Behind me, I hear a couple of deep chuckles, as well as a maniac laugh as footsteps start to follow me, a horribly familiar voice calling after me. I ignore it, focusing on staying ahead of my pursuers, doing my best to avoid the stones littering the pavement, my hand scrabbling in my pocket for the keys to my brother's car, thinking I could use it to get away, even if the tyre is flat. Finding them, I pull them out and continue sprinting down the road, a relieved gasp escaping me as I catch sight of the vehicle ahead, a new burst of energy exploding in me as I give one final push, reaching it swiftly.

Tremors wrack my hands as I attempt to get the key into the door, aware of the ever-approaching boys behind me, my breath held as I struggle to remain calm, adrenaline still pumping through me, a curse escaping me as I fight with the stuff turning mechanism. It finally opens, allowing me to climb into the car and slam the door behind me, quickly sticking the key into the ignition and turning it, only for the engine to stall. Going to try again, I growl in frustration as the same thing happens, the car refusing to let me put it into drive as I wrestle with the key. Panic starts to resurface within me, my actions becoming more and more frenzied, until I give up, punching the steering wheel in front of me in anger, wincing when my fist smarts afterwards.

A dent suddenly appears in the roof of the car, as if a heavy weight was dropped on it, a blood-curdling screeching noise following, as if someone was tearing through rusted metal, or trying to bend it out of shape. Looking out of the window, I notice a pair of hands digging into the weak spot just above the window, the metal coming away from the base as they continue to pull at it, opening me up to them, whatever they are. Petrified, I remain still for a couple of seconds, before jumping back into action, moving so that I'm forcing myself through the gap between the driver and passenger seats, crushing myself through the space into the backseats, collecting myself before I throw open the back door, stumbling briefly as I try to regain my balance, racing off towards the main road. I must look a sight - wearing a bloodied shirt and sporting similarly stained hands, tears streaking my cheeks, my breath coming out in rasping pants as I try to stay ahead of a group of who I assume to be killers. Hope fills me as I see a brighter light appear at the end of the road, clearly the beginning of the main road leading into Santa Carla, my pace remaining steady as I aim for it, careful not to get too excited, knowing I'm not quite in the clear yet.

A pair of arms suddenly appear around my waist, their owner easily lifting me off the ground and into the air, a scream of terror ripping itself from me as my attacker somehow floats upwards, holding me against a muscular chest, the smell of their black coat very familiar to me. Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, kicking and wriggling as much as I can in his tight grasp.

"Calm down, (Y/n)! I'm not going to hurt you!" David commands, tightening his arms around me as I pay him no attention, trying to get out using any possible technique, "If you keep this up, I'll have to drop you, and we're a long way from the ground!"

At his words, I look down, freezing up as I see how far away we are from the pavement below, my eyes widening in fear, a pathetic whimper escaping me. I look up to see the other three sort of hovering around David and I, all of them looking serious for once, not just Dwayne, Marko chewing on his thumb as Paul struggles to stay still, somehow managing to fidget in mid air.

"What do you want? What are you?" I ask them, despair lacing my tone as I address them, knowing I'll probably end up like my brother, another corpse my supposed friends have left behind for others to find.

"We'll explain soon enough, but for now, we're going home. Hang on tight." The platinum blonde confirms, shifting me around so that I'm facing him, his icy blue eyes boring into mine as he repositions my arms around his neck, encouraging me to hold on tight. Gritting my teeth, I swallow and hold on, linking my legs around his waist as he starts to move, burying my face into his chest in pure fear, unsure of what will happen.

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#slight trigger warning #slight tw #blood #Gore #mild gore #one-boring-person

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