#guy. then you look in the next corner and there's an even MORE shadowy guy. and sometimes they all stare at each other from
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Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants
Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)
Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.
Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised
WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.
"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.
"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."
"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."
"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."
"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."
"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"
"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.
It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.
"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.
"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"
"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."
"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."
Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.
"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.
He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.
"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."
"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."
"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.
"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"
"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"
"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"
"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."
"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."
You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.
"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.
"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."
Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.
Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."
"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.
"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.
"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.
"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.
"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."
"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.
You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"
"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"
"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.
"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"
"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."
"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.
Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."
Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.
His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.
"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."
"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."
"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."
"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.
"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"
"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.
You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."
"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.
"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."
"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."
He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.
Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.
"Ani-"
"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"
"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."
"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.
"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.
"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.
"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.
"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.
"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.
"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"
"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."
"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.
"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."
"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.
When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.
"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.
"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.
It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.
Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.
"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.
"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."
You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.
You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.
"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.
"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."
"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.
"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"
It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.
But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"
The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.
"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.
"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.
"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.
Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.
It works.
The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.
"Anakin!" You scream.
Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.
"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.
All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.
"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.
"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"
"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"
"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"
"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."
"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"
All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.
"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.
The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.
"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.
"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.
"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."
You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."
"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.
"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."
"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.
"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.
Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.
"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."
"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"
"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"
"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."
"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.
"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."
Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.
"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"
"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.
"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."
"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."
"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
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doing asks publicly makes me so nervous but i'm gonna do it anywayssss. i sent you a couple of asks but you said you didn't get it so im gonna send you this one that i've been thinking about for a hot minute-- i think its really cute like omgmgggg ANYWAYS
sevika with a younger (20s) vampire reader who watches her from afar and leaves her really pretty vintage looking gifts, romantic poems, and cute love notes? basically just the reader leaving stuff that sevi takes an interest in!! i'd love for this to be with a black reader if possible <3
this is so cuteeee!!
a quick note and disclaimer before we start! i don't know much about vampire lore, just the very basic stuff, so i apologize if this isn't the exact vampire vibe you were hoping for, or if i get some things wrong, i'm mostly just guessing hahah. also! i'm white, and i'll try my best to make this an obviously black reader without shoving it down your throat, but if i get anything wrong, please lmk and i'll fix it right away :)
men and minors dni
zaun is a great place for a vampire to live. sunlight rarely reaches the low levels of the city, leaving you free to roam whenever you want, day or night.
additionally, the abundance of crime and violence, as well as the lack of any real help from piltover, means that the occasional dead body (both human and animal) with puncture wounds in their necks go relavitely unnoticed.
it's these reasons that made you decide to settle down in zaun for a while.
it's sevika that made you decide to stay.
you've never met the woman, at least not traditionally, but that doesn't mean you don't know her.
the first time the two of you crossed paths was one late night in the dingy streets of the lanes.
you were starving, out searching for a rat or cat or maybe even a man harassing some poor girl to sink your fangs into. you had wandered away from your usual haunts and toward the newly re-furbished 'last drop.'
rumor had it that the new owner had some shady dealings on the side. you figured it'd be a good as place as any to catch a scumbag in action, or maybe find someone so drugged out on shimmer they wouldn't notice waking up the next morning with a pint of blood or so missing.
as you approached the bar, the few stragglers out this late grew into a rambunctious crowd. you grinned, ducking into a dark alley, licking your lips in anticipation of your next meal.
it took no time at all for you to find your target. a crowd was standing outside the bar, laughing and goofing off as they played with a handful of dice and passed around some cigars and joints. a girl in the crowd kept winning, and you watched as one of the men she was with grew more and more irritated as she continued to pick up her winnings.
the second he put his hand on her in an attempt to pull her back and backhand her, your fangs descended, knowing you'd found your guy. you ducked out of the alley, reaching out to grab the man by the bicep and pull him toward a shadowy corner.
but before you could touch him, he was being harshly pulled away from the young woman and thrown on the pavement.
you paused in the mouth of the alleyway, watching with increasing interest as a tall, strong woman towered over the man, glaring down at him.
she was smirking. you found yourself smirking too.
"what did i tell you about hitting women in my bar?" she rasped out. the man on the pavement beneath her pissed himself, his pants quickly growing dark as he shook in fear. the crowd he was with had dispersed, but a few eyes were watching and shaking their heads in admonishment of the man.
"i-i'm not in the bar sevika, we're outside!" the pathetic man cried. the woman above him laughed, and you watched in fascination as a blade slowly descended from her red poncho. he squealed.
"i swear i won't do it again!" he tried, scrambling away on his back as he tried to evade the woman. she smiled down at him, chuckling as she shook her head.
"no." she said. "you won't."
in a flash, the blade at her side swung down across his neck.
your stomach growled as the smell of blood drifted over to where you hid, and your loins stirred as you watched the woman keep eye contact with the man until his sputtering and twitching halted, and he died. she spat beside him, then turned to walk back into the bar. her bar, apparently.
when no one was looking, you quickly drug the body to the alleyway. his neck was tattered, but you were able to get a pretty decent feed by draining his arms at his wrists.
and after cleaning your mouth, relishing in the warmth quickly pumping through your body, you entered the bar, and spent the rest of the night in a dark corner, your eyes trained on the strong woman as she made rounds around the bar, occasionally pausing to join a game of cards or drink a whiskey.
since then, you've spent almost every night watching her.
you've learned a lot about her since you started watching her. like how in public, while she's at work, she carries herself around with a straight spine and no-nonsense attitude. but while she's at home, alone in her apartment, she's softer. she likes reading, especially romance novels. and she trades out her whiskey for a sweet white wine when she's really into a book.
she sleeps on her side, facing the door like she's ready for the first sound of danger. there have been a few times that she's left her window cracked and you've carefully floated in through her curtains, hovering beside her as you watch her breathe.
you've touched her once, running your finger down the pretty blue scars on her face. she had shifted and murmured, but hadn't woken up, seemingly not finding your presence threatening.
she smells incredibly fucking tantalizing.
not in the way humans usually smell attractive-- like blood and sweat and life. no, she smells better. she smells warm.
warm like whiskey and vanilla wraps for her cigarillos. warm like the brown sugar body wash she uses, warm like the wool of her favorite poncho.
you swore to yourself you wouldn't act on your attraction. you swore to yourself you'd just watch-- not interact.
but then, one night as you were watching sevika eat a cold, lonely dinner in her apartment, she broke down into tears.
your heart broke. you almost revealed yourself to her, just to wrap her up in your arms and press a kiss to her head.
and when she went to sleep that night, you just had to do something to make her feel a little better.
you quickly rushed down the street to the convenience store down the street, and bought the biggest bag of cheesy chips you could find. (you've watched the woman back away cheesy chips like she was preparing for hibernation-- you knew she'd like them.)
you left them on her welcome mat.
(and though you weren't there to see it, the next morning while sevika was leaving for work and she tripped over the bag, she stared at them in confusion for about three minutes, before a soft, sweet smile pulled up at the corners of her lips.)
the next night, when you came back to watch her through her window, you were thrilled to find the bag of chips half empty and sitting on her counter.
since then, you've given up on any and all semblance that you wouldn't interact with the woman.
your gifts have gotten increasingly intense.
they started with little snacks and trinkets left on her doorstep. but after the first time you saw her reaction, a little happy smile when she opened the door to a chocolate candy bar, your heart soared, and you gave up on keeping your gifts casual.
you started leaving bottles of her favorite whiskey.
then, the wine she sneaks when she's alone.
she was hesitant to open it. it sat on her counter for a week, like she was suspicious of the gift. but, eventually, she gave in and cracked the bottle open.
once she got used to her bottles, you took it up another notch. flowers from time to time. ointments and balms for all the cuts and bruises she's always coming home with. scented candles for her home, more blankets for her bed. (she's always shivering.)
one day you notice the shoelaces in her boots are fraying and old. so you bring her new ones.
one evening, you watch as she finished her smutty novel, then pout at her bookshelves when she realizes she's already read everything else on it. you bought her a series she didn't own yet.
you've even taken to getting dolled up before your nightly visits to her apartment, like she'll see you.
you feel ridiculous each time you apply your body butter and lay down your baby hairs just to watch a woman who doesn't know you exist sleep for a few hours, but you can't help yourself from the compulsion.
it's only when you start using her bodywash scent in your shower so you can always smell a bit like her that you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit in love with the woman.
just a little bit. (right?)
you start reading her romance novels in your free time, renting them out from the library and tearing through them in hours.
you're thrilled to find that all of them happen to feature two female leads.
you're also struck by the fact that her favorites-- the ones she reaches for time and time again-- all feature some sort of love letter confession.
so you make a plan.
it goes like this:
on week one, you start signing your presents with a simple "your secret admirer."
on week two, you leave a rose with every offering you bring.
(sevika keeps them all, hanging them upside down from her window so they preserve themselves.)
on week three, you start adding little notes to your gifts.
"your smile takes my breath away" (even though you don't really breathe anymore.)
"i hope silco doesn't piss you off today" (even though he pisses her off every day.)
"i wish i could sleep beside you every night" (even though you don't need sleep. you'd just like to hold her, protect her from whatever she's so scared of.)
and then, on week four, you decide to give her a letter. a full blown, totally honest confession about everything she's made you feel these past few months.
only-- something happens.
the night before you're meant to deliver the letter on her front mat, you feed off of a street rat. rat blood isn't nearly as satisfying as human blood, but you like to avoid actual murder when you can.
but this rat must have been poisoned, because you wake up with lead in your stomach and a hangover you haven't had since you turned.
you've accidentally ingested rat poison before. and while nothing can technically kill you, a whole lot of shit can make you horrifically sick until the blood works it's way out of your system.
so you have to put the plan on hold for a week.
on day one, you just lie in bed in agony.
on day two, you start shivering.
on day three, you manage to vomit up whatever of the blood remains in your stomach.
and today, day four, you wake up crying.
you miss sevika. as stupid as it sounds, she's been the most entertaining part of your life in... centuries.
and you can't see her. and you can't give her your letter. because you pass out each time you try to walk farther from the bed to the bathroom.
you groan at the ceiling as your stomach rumbles again.
"being a vampire fucking sucks!" you cry to your cat. she purrs in your lap and you sigh. "i can't eat food, i can't go in the sun, i've got all these stupid heightened senses-- and what's the point of being immortal if i can still get fucking sick?" you cry. your cat opens one eye to glare at you for interrupting her nap, before she rises and jumps down from your bed, running away.
"and now you're abandoning me in my time of need!" you wail after your cat.
there's a knock at the door.
you groan as you crawl out of bed-- your body is too weak to do any sort of flying right now-- and wander into the living room.
you're certain it's a neighbor, here to yell at you again for yelling at your cat.
but when you swing open the door, you almost pass out at the sight of sevika smirking on your doorstep.
you scream, leaping backwards, quickly snatching a blanket off the couch to wrap around your three day old soiled pajamas, and then gasp when you remember you have your bonnet on.
you reach up to pull it off-- then think better of it, knowing your hair's likely a mess beneath it. you haven't taken it off in days.
"uh." you squeak. sevika smiles at you.
"hey." she says. you blink, reaching up to rub your eyes, certain this is a poison induced hallucination. it's not, apparently.
"uh." you say again. sevika chuckles, then makes to enter your apartment.
"the rule is that vampires gotta ask to come inside your home, not the other way around, right?" she asks as she steps over the threshold to your apartment. you gulp.
"uhm..." you say, backing up until your back hits a wall.
sevika looks down at herself and shrugs. "i look fine. i guess i was right." she says. you squeak, and she smirks up at you. "i've missed you, y'know. got used to your little gifts." she says.
you gulp and blink again, trying to clear the apparition before you. sevika remains.
"today's the fourth day in a row i haven't heard from my secret admirer-- i got worried for you." she says.
you clear your throat and search for words. nothing comes up. eventually, you manage to say something, a shaky, nervous, "h-how?"
sevika grins.
"c'mon. i'm second in command to the eye of zaun, babe, i got eyes and ears everywhere."
"w-when--?" you try again. sevika laughs.
"since your first gift. i knew i felt someone watching me outside my window, i felt like i was going fucking crazy! then you left those cheesy chips, and i realized maybe whoever was watching me wasn't a threat." she says.
you squeak again, and sevika giggles.
"plus, i caught you a couplea times." she says. "you're not as stealthy as you think you are."
you pass out.
when you wake up, sevika's sitting on your couch, your head in her lap, your cat in yours. she smiles down at you. "welcome back." she says. you groan.
"this is humiliating." you mumble as you try to sit up. sevika keeps you pinned to her lap with a hand to your shoulder and you're too weak to fight her off.
"it's cute." she says with a shrug.
"i've been stalking you!" you say. she just laughs again.
"yeah, but you're cute. and harmless. and-- i'm not sure, but i've read a couple vampire romances-- isn't this your freaky way of courting me?" she asks. you groan at the cheesy wording but nod anyways.
"yeah." you mumble. sevika just chuckles.
it's quiet for a few minutes, and then sevika reaches down to grab your hand. "well..." she says. you blink up at her in confusion. "are you gonna court me or what?" she asks. you blink.
"wha-- seriously?!" you ask. she nods and shrugs.
"gimmie your best shot." she says. you smile, the horrible sickness in your body fading as a giddy feeling starts bubbling up in your stomach. you rise from the couch, rushing to your room to grab the letter, then running back into the living room, thrusting the letter into her hands. "i know you like corny love letters-- it's in all your favorite books." you admit shyly as you hand it to her. she grins.
"you read my books?"
"not yours. copies from the library." you say, shrugging. sevika smiles, then opens the letter.
it's quiet as her eyes scan the pages, the same little furrow in her brow coming up that always appears when she reads.
you bite back a gasp. you've never seen it so close-up before. she's so fucking beautiful, you have to clench your hands at your side to keep from reaching out and touching her.
when she's done, she looks up from your letter with tears in her eyes. you gulp.
"are you okay?" you ask. she swipes her eyes and nods.
"y-yeah." she whispers, a little waver in her voice. you melt, sinking back down on the couch beside her and wrapping your arms around her like you've been dying to do for months now.
sevika laughs in your arms, wrapping hers back around you then hissing when she feels how cold you are. you giggle.
sevika pulls away after a moment, her eyes locked on your lips.
"so... tell me about those fangs of yours." she says. you blink.
"w-what about them?" you ask.
"like, are they always descended or can you control it or...?" she asks. you gulp and shrug.
"i can control it." you say. she smiles.
"so, if i was to kiss you right now, you wouldn't slice my lip off by accident?" she asks. you laugh disbelievingly, then you scoot away from her.
"i--i'm sick." you say. she laughs.
"yeah, i gathered." she says, pointing at your wrinkled clothes and the bags under your eyes. "vampire sickness can't transfer to humans though." she says. you scoff.
"how do you know?" you ask. she shrugs and chuckles.
"i don't, i just really want to kiss you."
you gulp, a shaky sigh escaping your lips, before you tentatively lean forward and press your lips against sevika's.
she hums against you, and then she reaches out, grabs you by your pajama shirt, and hauls you into her lap. you squeak against her lips, and she licks into your mouth, moaning against you.
when she pulls away, you gulp at the powerful, fast pounding of her heart that you can hear from beside her.
"woah." you whisper. she smiles. "so... is that a yes?" you ask, referring to your letter. sevika snorts and lets out a bright laugh, and your heart fucking melts.
"definitely a yes, baby." she says, swooping in to kiss you again.
taglist!
@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki
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Security Blanket || C.SC
† genre: horror
† word count: 2k
† warnings: demon, sleep paralysis, fear, idk
† synopsis: when all else fails, your blanket will always serve as your shield from the outside world.
† (a/n): this one is based entirely off of the Magnus Archives episode Tucked In, which has imprinted upon me and haunted me ever since! it is terrifying! you guys should listen to it/read the transcript, it's great :)
† taglist: @scuzmunkie @hipsdofangirl @hydroyaksha
anthology | main masterlist
(y/n) had always had a rough time winding down for sleep. The clock would roll well into the witching hour and she'd still be wide awake, staring at the ceiling with a distant and desperate stare, as if hoping the white void of her ceiling above would eventually lull her to sleep itself. Though it never did.
Perhaps it was the anxiety of her life gradually accumulating within her, but the sleep paralysis seemed to make the nights infinitely more agonizing for her. She wouldn't even recall going to sleep in the first place before the next thing you know, there's a shadowy figure lurking in the corners of her room.
Tired and mentally drained, her only solution to the matter was to lift the blanket up above her head and block out the hallucinations. And somehow, it not only worked, but it managed to put her to sleep just seconds later.
And so it became a ritual almost. She'd lay there flat on her back, waiting as the night stretched on with seemingly no end, and soon enough, the amorphous darkness which occupied the crevices of her room would reappear again, and she'd bury herself into her blankets and fall asleep shortly afterwards.
It was strange, but it was enough to satiate her otherwise sleep deprived mind.
Though as the nights progressed, (y/n) began noticing shifts out of the corner of her. The darkness that had once sat idly on the outskirts of her room began to twitch, sporadic and unpredictable, initially minute tremors that she could barely detect through the spare moonlight streaming through her window, but it was there nevertheless.
Soon, the twitching became more apparent, more like pulses than anything else. The dark mass wriggled like a living creature, and at times she couldn't take her eyes off of whatever it seemed to be doing.
Gradually, the shadows began to condense into one, compressing itself into seemingly a defined silhouette of a man, curled into the corner, yet still fidgeting as it had when it was shapeless.
One of the nights she merely watched it was the first night it seemed to notice her. Its neck snapped up and presumably stared back, and though it remained faceless, she could feel its gaze upon her. As per usual, she retreated into the sanctity of her sheets, tugging the comforter well over her head as she curled into herself and fell asleep.
The next time (y/n) looked to the corner of her room, the creature was already staring back at her once more, a black chasm of nothingness observing her where she lay. She remained frozen for a moment, watching the edges of its form seem to shift and blur. She stared back, fascinated by it as it was with her. Though the longer she stared, the more she could make out its features. As if forcing her eyes to grow accustomed to the sheet of darkness which seemed to enshroud the thing.
Through the haze of murk, (y/n) could make out a nose, the first distinction to catch her eye. Then a pair of lips, corners downturned into a permanent scowl. Dark hair that fell lazily atop its head. And then eyes. Eyes which pierced through the darkness of her room and penetrated directly into her being. Black vats of inky darkness that absorbed any light that dared cross its threshold. Its gaze was unyielding, boring into her, unblinking, as if attempting by all means to infiltrate her very soul.
The full appearance of what had been stalking her for so many nights now suddenly manifested before her, and the sight of it made things feel so much more real. It put into perspective just how comfortable she had gotten in a situation that cried for interference. The shadows still clung to his figure, dark tendrils writhing about and stretching to encompass that entire sector of her room. Yet even with the imposing nebulous stature of the creature as a whole, that maddening gaze of his that stared at her with this frenzied fervor rooted her in her place. It was as if she couldn't tear her eyes from him, whether it be from morbid curiosity of what linger beneath or from the utter fear of a predator lurking before her.
(y/n) felt her heart drop when he shifted from where he sat, eyes still steadily trained on her as he moved onto his hands and knees. Her breathing stuttered, hands twitching at the seams of her blanket, eyes unblinking as she nervously awaited his next move. He began creeping towards, stretching out one hand and dragging himself closer to her, crawling towards the bed with his ceaseless stare unchanging.
Fear riddled her being that night, and she quickly retracted her sights from him in lieu of the blanket which had always protected her from these apparitions of her subconscious.
The following nights were much the same, except the creature continued to morph into a clearer and clearer likeness of a man, which only served to further petrify her every time she'd blink and he'd suddenly be there, staring, waiting. At this point with the sheer terror accumulating gradually in her system, wearing her out until she was riddled with nerves on the precipice of self destruction, she was understandably mortified beyond belief. Though what seemed to only further her downfall was the fact that the creature drew closer and closer to her every night.
Some nights it'd sit there, watching with those obsidian eyes that just seemed… far too aware of something. An awareness that transcended that of her own mortal consciousness. Probing. Analyzing. Instilling this primal terror in her with its malefic presence that tainted (y/n) with its unbound knowledge, untethered from the planes of reality she was grounded upon. Though that staring varied in duration, interrupted by this sudden and frenzied crawling.
Initially, there were slow and purposeful attempts to near her, as if a predator deliberately nearing its prey in hopes of not being spotted. With every passing night, and with every evacuation into her blanket, his approaches grew more frantic. Sitting there for what seemed like hours staring, and then without any sort of warning, he'd launch himself forward, clawing his way to her as if his life depended on it. She'd hear the scuffle of his body being dragged across the carpet, hear his unhinged huffs of breath, drawing closer and closer.
Though like clockwork, when she'd bury herself into her blankets, it all seemed to stop. That palpable dread which lingered in the air would dissipate, as would the heaviness of his gaze upon her and the anxiety inducing sounds of his breathing rapidly nearing. The stillness of the night returned to its original state, and the dangers beyond her security blanket seemingly vanished.
Seemingly.
As she lay there one night, eyes listlessly tracing nonexistent shapes into the ceiling, she waited for her nightly visitor's reckoning. Utterly dead to the world, heavy lids begging to be closed even if they'd be met with restless sleep for the entire night, she lay expectantly for the usual regimen she had found herself sinking into.
She blinked. And blinked. And blinked. And after the umpteenth blink, in the peripheral of her vision, she saw him once more. Crouched upon himself, hunched over onto his haunches, leaning the rest of his weight upon his knuckles. As clear an image of a man as he has ever been, yet still bearing that malevolent aura that reminded her of the macabre thread which separated reality from pure nightmare.
His fixated gaze was shorter this time around, almost immediately leaping into his attempt at getting to her. And like every other night, she responded by burrowing into her blanket. Except this time, nothing seemed to change.
She could still feel that vulnerable sensation of being under his careful watch. She could still feel the oppressive weight of the room whenever he lurks nearby. And rather than the blanket offering its usual sense of security as it usually does, she instead felt entrapped in a cage of her own creation.
Warily, she dared a glance beyond the blanket—the first time she ever braves the outside world after the initial retreat. And though she had felt nothing had changed, that if she checked the area she'd only be met with the sight of the creature continuing to crawl her way, she was instead greeted by a completely empty room. As if she had nothing to worry about in the first place. As if her survival instincts were merely skewed from the many nights of being alert.
Cautiously, she took a gander about the room. The corner where he resided was empty, almost this cavernous emptiness like something was missing. The shadows which emanated from his body were gone, and the room felt obscenely large in his absence.
(y/n) didn't understand any of this. Why was her body so convinced that something was amiss in the room instead of feeling the relief that the intrusion was merely gone?
Her fists clenched at the sheets, heart rate accelerating and breaths becoming shallow. Something in her refused to accept whatever conclusion her eyes seemed to make, rejecting the facade of safety that was bestowed upon her.
Just as she was about to raise the sheets once more, to shield herself again from the nightmares of her room, a movement caught her eye, prompting her to drop the blanket and check.
A pair of obsidian eyes. Staring. Watching. At the very foot of her bed.
A scream ripped from her throat as she threw the blanket over her, grasping at the seams and ensuring no part of her body was revealed to the outside. She waited with bated breath, body trembling with remnants of that image ingrained in her mind. The image of his dark and sinister glare steadily trained on her.
She first heard indistinct shuffling. And then she heard a creak. The familiar groan of wood wailing from the old joints of her bed frame. And then she felt it. A pressure on the spot of the bed beside her right calf, and then another on the left side. It climbed up her body—beside her thighs, and then her hips, and then her stomach, before finally resting on either side of her head. All the while, a weight seemed to travel its way up simultaneously, covering her body entirely with its mass. And once it was right above her, in a way that her body lay completely under its expanse, it pressed down upon her. The sheer heaviness forced a gasp out of her as she attempted desperately to remain still, to preserve any form of anonymity she could in this situation.
(y/n) could feel his chest against her own, rising and lowering with each labored breath, spiraling her into this existential dread that left her completely and utterly immobilized. The suffocating grip of sleep paralysis seemed to finally have its grasp upon her, forcing her into this reluctant state of captivity within her own body. The malevolent presence continued to pin her where she lay, like a boulder upon her feeble form weighed down like lead.
His breathing traveled up towards her face, a perverse whisper against her skin as it penetrated the shroud she was buried under. Panic surged within her, straining against the paralysis as her primal instincts began to kick in, yet she remained unresponsive, with only the hot tears streaming down her face to serve as a reminder of her still living and breathing state.
(y/n) closed her eyes, willing herself to break free from this wretched state, but the pressure on her chest only intensified. The breathing had finally stopped at the shell of her ear, her own breaths growing shallow and strained as the air within her blanket grew thin. The room seemed to close in around her, more than it had already at this point. And then suddenly, a voice penetrated the maelstrom of fear flooding her system.
"The blanket never did anything."
† (a/n): tbh idk if I'm allowed to literally copy an entire Magnus Archives episode verbatim, but yk, still fun and groovy
† (a/n): not literally verbatim but damn I did copy
#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#s. coups x reader#choi seungcheol x reader#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#kpop x reader#seungcheol fanfiction#scoups fanfiction#s. coups fanfiction#choi seungcheol fanfiction#seventeen fanfiction#kpop fanfiction#seungcheol fanfic#scoups fanfic#s. coups fanfic#choi seungcheol fanfic#svt fanfiction#seventeen fanfic#kpop fanfic#svt fanfic
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Hello! Sorry for the delay but I’ve finished my first Yandere oc fanfic! Writers block and anxiety are a pain. Anyway, this is my first fanfic and I’m a tad dyslexic so forgive me for any mistakes! Please let me know if I missed anything with the trigger warnings and sorry for the formatting issues, I wrote this on my laptop. Also please give me constructive criticism and feedback! I’d like to start a blog dedicated to my writing and fanfic so any help is appreciated!
Tw: stalking, obsession and general Yandere behavior.
Gn reader (referred to with they/them pronouns)
Today was a nightmare, we had at least fifty customers during the lunch rush and what's worse is that a guy came in and was sitting at the same table for five hours and only left 30 minutes before closing, the clattering of plates echoing behind me as I wipe down his table, my body feeling like concrete, but I'm forced to keep going. Something crinkles and falls to the ground. Picking it up, I see it's a recipe with (XXX)-XXX-XXXX ‘call me ;)’ on the bottom. I let out a sigh, wading it up and throwing it in the garbage. Of course, he would do that. The guy who refused to leave was also a creep. Just as I'm about to leave, I notice a shadowy figure lingering outside the café, their gaze fixed on me. A chill runs down my spine, but I shake it off, attributing it to the exhaustion of the day. “Hey, I'm going to head out! Could you lock up for me?” I call out to Delilah, the nice old woman in the back. I grab my stuff after she responds in the affirmative. The bell ringing as I head out. I walk to the same bus stop I take every day, the last bus picking me up so often that the bus driver knows me by name.
Sitting down on the bench, I pull out my phone, scrolling through insta. A post from a famous influencer, a post of someone's dog in a newly knit sweater, someone advertising their small business. Just what you'd expect to see, but what I didn't expect was someone sitting next to me. I glance over at them, he’s wearing a white hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. Nothing out of the ordinary except for his face, what was up with his face? Sunglasses? Why was he wearing sunglasses at night? He turns his head and I quickly turn away and look back at my phone, but I can feel him staring at me, practically burning a hole in the side of my head. I shrink into myself a little, his gaze never leaving me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I can't make out his expression, his face completely obscured by a surgical mask. Should I speak up? Why was he just staring? Was there something on my clothes? Do I offend? The bus screeches to a halt in front of me, and I jump to my feet, quickly hurrying into a seat. Jeremy, the bus driver, gives me a weird look but doesn't say anything. I see the man board the bus, and I hope that he won't sit anywhere near me. That hope is instantly shattered when he stops in front of me. He's tall and intimidating. The light shines off his long black hair, creating a shadow over his face as he looks down at me. I can feel dread knotting up my stomach, I want to cry. I didn't even notice the tears gathering in my eyes, he holds something up, but I can't see it. I blink, the tears fall and I realize he's holding up my bag, “You forgot this.” his voice is low and gravelly like he just woke up. “Oh, thanks.” I say quietly, quickly taking my bag from him.
I look away, turning my gaze out the window, suddenly finding the passing cars more interesting than whatever he was doing at the moment. “I like your apron.” I side eye him, he's staring at me again. I didn't humor him with a response, “Where did you get it?” he's not going to stop talking, is he? “My grandma made it for me.” it wasn't anything amazing, just a blue and white striped apron with a cute rubber duck on the pocket. “It's very cute.” I hum in response, trying not to engage. Trying not to give him fuel to keep going. But despite my efforts, he does.
“I like your hair.”, “Where do you work?”, “How was your day?”, “Do you like work?”, question after question. A never ending string of words. I try to ignore him, to not give him enough to keep going. But he does. The bus stops, and I stop tuning him out to jump up, remembering to grab my bag, and hurry off the bus and away from him. I speed walk to my apartment building, up the side stairs and to my door. I reach into my pocket and I don't feel anything. My heart speeds up as a cold sweat covers my body. Where's my keys? I start to hyperventilate as I check my clothes. My front pockets, back pockets, apron pocket, shirt pocket. They aren't there. They aren't anywhere. I could have sworn I took my keys out of my locker. Did I drop them on the bus? Did they fall out on the sidewalk?
I let out a scream when I feel a hand on my shoulder, whipping around I see the man from the bus and I suddenly have something much bigger to worry about. I open my mouth to scream, at him, for help, I don't know, when he holds up my keys. The fluffy blue pompom and rubber duck keychains bouncing from how fast he lifted them. “I’m sorry, but these fell out of your pocket.” our hands brush as he quickly hands me my keys and speed walks down the stairs, he makes to the bottom and I shout a “Thank you!” after him. Maybe I judged him too quickly.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They touched me. I can't believe it, they touched me! I can't believe I've at last managed to approach them, emerging from the shadows where I've lingered for so long. Turning the corner, I slide down the wall, quietly giggling to myself because oh my god they touched me! The streetlight over head flickers as I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to muffle the laughs that are bubbling up and out of my mouth.
I followed them out to the bus stop they sit at every day, they're so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off them. They left their bag by the bench, I don't know why, but they seemed freaked out and left in a hurry. Poor thing must have had a horrible day, worse than I thought, if they're that anxious. I was taught to be nice, people like it when you're nice, so I brought them their bag. They looked so cute when they looked up at me. What wasn't cute was the tears gliding down their cheeks. My stomach was in knots as I handed them their bag. I hate seeing them cry, so I did what helped me. I asked them easy questions, trying to distract them from whatever was making them cry. They must have been really sad because they were giving short answers. As the bus came to a stop in front of their apartment building, I slipped their keys out of their pocket. Maybe a happy accident would cheer them up, even if it was artificial. My voice was stuck in my throat as I followed them off the sidewalk, my heart was beating rapidly as I followed them up the stairs. They're looking for their keys. Fuck. No turning back now. I can't be a coward now, I grab their shoulder and they scream. I look so creepy, god, just say something! “I’m sorry, but these fell out of your pocket.” I sounded like I total loser, but sounding like a loser was better than them fearing me, even if for a moment. It felt heavenly when our fingers brushed against one another, their voice like an angel when they shouted thank you. If only they'd let me hold their hand, walk them home, kiss them goodnight. But this will have to do for now.
I'll see you again soon, my love.~
#fanfic#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#yandere x gn reader#yandere x gender neutral reader#yandere#yandere oc
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Hey, it's an action packed chapter for once!
CW: References to implied assault and murder. Nothing explicit but just so you're aware.
@owl-bones
First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.
Bad Sansuary: Dust - Shadow
Word Count: 1,969
You couldn't believe you'd ever agreed to work that double in the first place. Not only were you even more exhausted than you normally were, but now you had to walk home in the dark. Normally, the dark didn't bother you, but this wasn't a very safe neighborhood and every few months there would be some sort of altercation reported. Still, you didn't live so far where getting a taxi or the bus made sense in your opinion.
You were only a few blocks from your apartment building when a large man came around the corner in front of you. As soon as he made eye contact, he stopped in his tracks and stared you down, not unlike a hungry wolf might stare down a small rabbit.
"Hey pretty lady... How about you come with me and have some fun...?" As he spoke, he began to take a few steps closer, all the while staring very obviously at your chest.
Your face screwed up in disgust and you took a few steps back. His breath stank of cheap beer and while he seemed mostly coherent, you could tell he was slightly drunk.
"Not interested. Leave me alone," you said bluntly and clutched your bag slightly tighter.
His face contorted with anger and the next sentence out of his mouth was a mix of derogatory slurs and swear words. He was practically shouting at you and flecks of his spit landed on your face as he did so.
You tried to stay brave but you couldn't help the sheer terror that washed over you at his sudden reaction. You had to get away from this man now...
He roughly grabbed your shoulder.
And something inside you snapped.
Without thinking clearly, you balled up your fist and punched him square in the nose.
He staggered back, clutching his face in pain. Moments later though, he snarled and advanced on you again.
You should've turned and ran for your life.
But foolishly, you didn't.
The creep came back swinging wildly.
You ducked and dodged around his blows.
Not quite fast enough though as he managed to strike you across the face.
Your head reared back from the impact and you could taste the familiar metallic taste of blood.
You could feel the rage welling up in your gut.
This guy...you were going to mess him up or die trying.
You barely remembered what happened next. At some point you dropped your bag though. It felt like you had tunnel vision and all you could focus on was inflicting as much pain on this man as you could.
You were losing steam though. Your body was growing heavy and your breaths were coming in ragged gasps. The only thing you could see was red.
The man was much stronger than you anticipated though. Sure, you weren't a trained fighter, but you could throw down with the best of them if you had to. What you lacked in height and size, you made up for with the fury of a half drowned cat. Nothing was off the table and you shamelessly went for anything you could such as clawing at eyes, yanking hair, and kicking him in the crotch or stomach.
One moment, you were pinned up against a wall with the man bearing down on you and the next moment, he was being flung down the alley and out of sight.
You gasped in surprise when a shadowy figure appeared from mid air in front of you. An ominous red glow flickered in the air around him and his fists were clenched.
Sharp purple bones manifested around his body before being flung down the alleyway.
You heard a sickening crunch as they impacted into the wall, but you knew in your gut that wasn't all they hit.
The shadowy figure stood there staring into the alley for what felt like an eternity before he turned to look at you.
It was Dust and he looked awful.
His eyelights were flickering with anger and the the added ring of blue in his eye socket only made him look even more terrifying. His smile was stretched tighter than you'd ever seen but it felt far more detached than happy.
He moved to your side faster than you could blink and his eyelights quickly scanned your injuries.
"what the hell were you thinking?!" he snarled. "he was twice your size and obviously drunk!"
You hung your head in shame. He was right and you knew it, but you couldn't explain why you'd actually tried to scrap with the creep. You weren't normally a confrontational person and you also weren't prone to bouts of anger, most of the time anyways.
"come on, you're going to have really bad bruising if we don't get you treated soon..." he murmured and went to take your arm.
You pulled away though and quickly picked up your bag. Standing back up, you flashed him a sheepish smile, although it faltered when you realized that your cheek was swelling up.
Dust rolled his eyelights and grabbed you, pulling your body against his own. For a moment, you were stunned and almost didn't realize that he was intending to teleport you again. He didn't even give you a warning beforehand this time.
Jerk.
You appeared in the middle of your living room and he immediately walked you backwards until the back of your leg hit the couch, forcing you to sit down.
"stay."
You rolled your eyes but made no effort to stand up.
Dust disappeared into your bathroom to raid your medicine cabinet. He reappeared moments later with an old tin of healing gel and some gauze.
With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the couch and started to open the tin, but suddenly paused mid way through. He stared down at his gloves wordlessly and you could tell that he was internally struggling with something. After a long moment, he pulled off his left glove and gingerly set it aside.
"i'm going to have to touch you in order to take care of...this," he muttered and briefly motioned to his own skull before glancing at you. "...is that okay?"
"Yeah..." you nodded slowly. You were trying not to overthink both how bad your injuries must look and this whole situation.
He worked carefully, spreading the gel over your rapidly swelling cheek before carefully taping a thick patch of gauze over the area. You couldn't help but notice how different his hand was compared to Axe's though.
While Axe's hands were large and had many cracks in the bones, Dust's hands were smaller and appeared to be much smoother. The tips of his phalanges were much more round compared to Axe's claws too. You weren't sure why he wore gloves all the time though as his hand looked normal.
"you're such an idiot..." Dust grumbled as he finished up with your face. He glanced at the rest of your body for any other injuries but your clothes covered anything that would've been visible.
"And what was I supposed to do in that situation? He was being a real jerk..." you retorted and crossed your arms.
He gave you a blank look and let out another heavy sigh. "not pick a fight you couldn't win?" he muttered. "not walk home all by yourself in the dark? literally do anything else?"
"Dust... I don't make a ton of money and besides, I don't live far from work. It doesn't make sense to get a taxi for the whole two minutes it would take to get home."
He scoffed and shook his skull. "my point still stands, bean. i'm sure you're smart enough to think of multiple ways to avoid what happened tonight." He looked you in the eyes and added in a low voice, "your safety is important."
You sighed and looked down at the floor. "I know... I'll...try to be smarter in the future."
"good."
You could feel him studying you and when you finally looked up again, he asked a question.
"does anything hurt that shouldn't?"
You flexed your arms a few times and stretched your back, wincing slightly at what would likely turn out to be several days of soreness. "Yeah, but I don't think I broke anything...lucky me."
He made a low grumbling noise and finally put his glove back on, flexing his phalanges slightly once he did so.
"Hey, um, thanks for showing up back there... But, how'd you know I was in trouble?" you asked.
He chuckled under his breath and glanced up at you with a slightly unnerving glint in his mismatched eyelights. "i know the route you usually take to and from work by heart, bean. remember the whole stalking thing you hated?"
"Ah."
He nodded slowly, "yep... you took too long to get home so i...had to go check on you..."
"Well, I'm actually glad you did that now. It still wasn't okay at the time but it's good you knew where I was I guess."
Dust leaned against the back of the couch and slowly exhaled. "i'll never understand why you treat me like i'm normal... i'm the furthest thing from normal," he murmured.
"Eh, me neither..."
You sat there quietly for a moment staring up at the popcorn ceiling. It was beginning to set in what had just happened. You probably almost died tonight if Dust hadn't showed up when he did.
That guy was definitely dead though.
Dust wouldn't have left him alive. That look he gave you afterwards wasn't the look of someone who had just spared a life. You hadn't even seen what happened and yet you still felt guilty for some reason.
So why was your heart doing flips at the thought that he'd killed for you? That wasn't normal at all! A man just died for being a jerk and nothing more. Dust hadn't even hesitated to kill him.
You didn't want to think about it. The guilt would eat you up if you did and you should really focus on the good parts of this situation. You were alive and mostly unharmed for one.
You needed something to drink, anything would do really. You just needed to take your mind off of this and think about nothing for a while.
You went to stand up to go to the kitchen, but in doing so, you went to brace yourself on the cushions except your hand landed on his. You quickly pulled your hand away and he mirrored your actions.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."
You trailed off when you looked up and met his silent gaze. His eyelights wobbled slightly but rather than quickly duck into his hoodie, he continued watching you.
Then he reached out and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you closer, Dust lightly bumped his skull against your forehead. "i care about you, dummy..." he muttered.
You felt your cheeks warm up but remained still in his hold for a few moments. You didn't know what you could say in this situation anyways.
When he finally leaned back a little, you responded in a quiet voice, "I care about you too..."
He cracked a crooked smile and tilted his skull slightly. "you gonna be okay?"
"Probably...? It might take me a hot minute to recover though."
You expected Dust to make some sort of snarky comment about the guy but he didn't. Instead he seemed to be studying your face, specifically your eyes and lips. Before you could ask what he was thinking about, he slid his other hand to the back of your head and leaned in closer.
Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed his teeth against your lips. He pulled away seconds later but it was enough.
You got the message loud and clear.
#badsansuary#raccoons drabbles#undertale#dusttale#dust sans#dust sans x reader#reader#female reader#have some empathy dear#oneshot
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Informant's Curse
Silver Bullet AU -Cater-
Silver Bullet AU by @jackplushie
Enjoy!~
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Excited chatter, laughter and clinking of glasses fill the bar in a warm and lively atmosphere, like a blanket enveloping you in its comforting embrace.
The Heartslabyul gang seemed to be in high spirits and it was starting to rub off on you too. It was a welcome change since finally there was no fighting, though, you don’t exactly expect the peace to last for very long.
It’s only a matter of time until someone does something to piss off their leader and you really don’t feel like cleaning glass shards off of every imaginable surface tonight.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but then your eyes land on Cater. He wasn’t at his usual spot at your counter or at their leader’s table… nor was he around anyone else it would seem. Cater opted instead for an empty table in one of the bar’s shadowy corners.
Away from the other’s eyes.
Unusual, you think.
He never sat alone.
You suppose working for the mafia wasn't easy... especially with a boss like the one of Heartslabyul. Information gathering has been Cater's job ever since he joined the gang. And by the time you became the bartender, he was already a regular.
The man was a chronic flirt. Constantly making comments that could be considered suggestive, winking at his “victims” just to fluster them further, compliments flowing off his tongue like honey. Yet it was all for show. Blatant efforts to get as much information out of his targets as possible.
And his behavior wasn't all that different with you either. Though you've rebuffed his advances on multiple occasions, he was yet to stop.
Not that you minded all that much.
For his part, Cater never seemed to mind your rejection too much, only leaving you with a few playful remarks:
"How cruel!~"
"I'll get you one of these times!"
"I know you'll fall for my charms sooner or later!~"
All before coming back the very next day to try his luck once more.
But today was a bit different. There’s no cheerful smile on his face… almost as if it was never there to begin with. His eyes as empty as the glass he kept playing with.
And then he sees you. And you feel as if you were caught red-handed, doing something you shouldn’t. A small wave of adrenaline washes over you as you avert your eyes from the man.
Are you more embarrassed for yourself or for him?
He looked... different. No shine in his green eyes, no mischievous smile playing on his lips.
Everyone's celebrating and yet he stays hidden in a private booth.
What's gotten into him? You briefly wonder. You might've even asked him about it, if he wasn't a member of the Heartlabyul mafia. And you want nothing more to do with your patrons, other than serving them drinks.
But you glance at him again and happen to catch his line of sight. As you lock eyes with the lone figure, he attempts to give you a halfhearted smile, before going back to playing with his almost empty glass.
With a sigh, you decide make your way over to him. Bartender duty and all that.
"Do you want another drink, Cater?" you try.
"You should help out the other patrons."
Cold.
Detached.
Uninterested.
What… even…?
“Hehe~ did not expect that, did you?~” his voice is… “playful” the…smirk playing on his lips distorted. A look of disgust combined with boredom.
Now he looks more like a man working for the mafia than he’s ever looked before. No friendliness can be seen on his face or in his eyes.
“What the h-“ but you are cut off.
“Please sit.” Cater motions for the seat opposite of him. “And please be quiet … the other guys wouldn’t be too pleased if we disturbed them, don’t you agree~?”
And so, having your bar full with only one gang turned from peaceful to threatening.
So, you take that damned seat.
One wrong more and-
“Smart choice~.” the ginger beams. “Thank you for cooperating so far! How about we keep going like this, hmmm~?”
“You-“
“Now, don’t go breaking my heart! I want us to have a pleasant chat!”
“…What about?” you test.
“Hmmm…” the man brings a finger to his chin in contemplation “Oh! I know!” Cater lets out a chuckle.
“How about our future date and relationship?”
Now wouldn’t be a good time to refuse, now would it?
So why not give good ‘ol Cay Cay a chance? He’ll do anything to make sure you don’t regret it!
#silver bullet au#twst silver bullet au#twst au#twst cater#cater diamond#cater diamond x reader#yandere cater x reader#yandere cater diamond#yandere twst x reader#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst
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okay @aikinn's tags on this patpran only friends au post need to be addressed immediately so i reposted them below and just formatted into paragraphs for readability. building the #patpran OF au tag on my blog bc i guess that's where i live right now. thank you @aikinn if you'd rather make this post yourself PLS let me know because i will delete this and reblog it to my heart
#suuuuper early on in the game Pran making some little teasing comment about how he clearly has more game than Pat #and Pat responding that thats impossible. He's pulled both times they've been together #and he hasnt seen Pran even *talk* to a girl let alone kiss one #and Pran is drunk and bold and steps in reaaal close and boops Pats nose and tells him to pay attention #and Pat gets left behind at the bar jaw agape nursing his beer as Pran walks up to the third hottest guy in the bar #(in Pat's humble opinion) #-and proceeds to lay it on thick. #And the guy?? responds?? he looks up (up?!) at Pran like he wants to eat him alive and Pat *burns*
#Pran is barely doing anything but existing and smiling with those goddamn dimples and the mystery guy looks ready to fall to his knees. #and Pat is watching and watching and willing Pran to look back at him just once. just once but he doesn't #And the guy looks up at Pran with a question and Pran leans in close to whisper something in his ear #and Pat watches the other man's eyes go dark as Pran puts his hand on the small of his back and guides the man outside #and Pat shouldnt follow #he should go back to his friends or find someone to talk to or something or something or something but his feet move without his permission #and he's holding his breath in silence watching the silhouette of neat-freak selfcontrolled Pran losing his composure in a dirty back alley
#Pran makes a kind of soft stuttered noise in his throat that Pat hears in his head on repeat for days and days and days #and next time Pat sees him at the bar he lies and says he got with some girl who's name he cant remember #and Pran teases him saying that it proves nothing. cause Pat's playing on easy mode. #there are 20 straight girls for each gay guy so Pran is still winning and Pat blurts out that Pran should teach him... so that its even. #Pat freely admits that he's never seduced a man but that doesnt mean he couldnt do it better than Pran could. he just needs to know how. so #teach him. #and Pran raises an eyebrow at first but then his eyes go very very dark. and Pat would do anything to keep Pran's attention on him like that #and he lets Pran run his fingertips up his arms. He takes the long drink of beer from the same bottle Prans mouth was on moments before. #He lets Pran back him into a shadowy corner. Lets those fingertips slip under the hem of his shirt. Trace along the waistband of his jeans #He lets Pran press up against him and find him hard and wanting and bares his throat at the feel of Pran's breath #and Pran whispers ''lesson's over Pat.''
#LESSON'S OVER???? HE WOULD#bad buddy#patpran OF au#i have been playing with the idea of pat learning pran is into men being a sort of revelation for him personally in another wip i have#so this is up my alley SO UNBELIEVABLY SO#i think pat would come back next time with renewed confidence and vengeance on his mind...#because we know he strikes out plenty but we also know his charm absolutely 100% works on pran#also#pat: people fall for my charm all the time#pran: please. you have no game you just rely on your looks#pat: oh? you think i'm hot?#pran: regretting opening his mouth
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Chapter 5 (PT 1): Turning Page || Royalty!S.S. x Royalty!Reader x Royalty!T.H.
Words: 12.2K (HEHE)
Genre: Period Drama, Love Triangle, Royalty AU, Jealousy.
Pairings: Stephen Strange x Reader, Tom Hiddleston x Reader.
Warning: Sugguestive scenes
A/N: Story has no set/final plot, just going with the flow. Thank you to all the read my stories. I love reading your thoughts so let me know what you want to see next. This is Part 1 of Chapter Five :D
I just hit 1K followers a day ago but I was travelling! vhbjlkdfb Thank you guys so for reading the fanfics on here! I would just like to say that I value each and everyone of you eventhough I forget to reply to all of the comments. I love you guys. Thank You!
Darkness, dense and oppressive—that was the captivity in which the Daevas had been imprisoned for such a long time. Nothing but darkness, which should be enough to lull them into an everlasting slumber, should be their fate. Nothing should ever wake them, and their Dark God, Chthon, who was placed to sleep along with them and is bound in a single location, which is Mount Wundagore.
While Baron swept his palm around in a circular motion, he flashed a sly grin that just reached the corner of his mouth. Foolish people. He thought by himself with a chuckle escaping from his mouth. In the pitch blackness, crimson eyes that were only dimly lit watched Baron's every move. They served as the Daevas' eyes and senses. Hisses of an eerie intensity reverberated, and then another. They appeared from everywhere and out of nowhere at the same time. When Baron heard the hissing coming from the shadowy beings who dwelt in the darkness, he pounded his staff on the ground to get their attention.
Baron spoke in a calm voice, "Great things, take time—do not be impatient," and the red eyes moved all at once to gaze at him, even though they couldn't actually see anything and depended on the vibrations of movements, “Do you agree that we should begin this path to salvation slowly?”
He inspected his surroundings as he made his way towards the throne that had been vacant for thousands of years. These demons of the night are more than capable of tearing him to pieces if they so choose—however, he was the chosen one. The time for exacting vengeance on those who were responsible for what had been done to his God would arrive at the appropriate moment in due time. Never would he forget the pain and dishonour of driving away magic. As for those who came against him, he would make certain that each and every one of them pay at his mercy.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
After being introduced to you and Stephen, Tom and Andrew returned to their barracks before being taken for a quick orientation around the palace. Andrew made sure no one was within earshot before addressing his older brother.
"Would you be so kind as to tell me about what that was?" Andrew blocked his brother’s path and narrowed his eyes. He was referring to the way Tom looked at you the moment his eyes landed on you.
"What are you talking about?" Tom scrunched his brows and stepped aside to keep moving forward towards their allocated barracks. Andrew pivoted and blocked his path again. Tom halted again, his lips thinning.
"Oh I don't know—I can start with the starry-eyed looking glazed zombie you were when you laid eyes on the Princess?" Andrew tapped his chin while sarcastically reminding his brother about it, "I don't know if you noticed—probably not—but the Prince looked like he wanted to devour you ALIVE." Andrew whisper-shouted.
Tom sighed in defeat and looked around before making his reply, "It was her—" Andrew gave him a confused look and Tom clicked his tongue, "you know? The beautiful woman I came across in the forest that one time."
Andrew closed his eyes and groaned. Great, just great. He thought. Tom hasn't shut up about that beautiful woman he met at the forest, the only time he probably stopped mentioning it was probably during his sleep or when he's too focused on his tasks—heck, Andrew wouldn't even be surprised if Tom even spoke about you in his dreams. You've got him hooked like a fish out of water.
"I told you she was beautiful," Tom shrugged.
"Yes. She very much is—I could feel my eyes dilated when I saw her as well. . . but she isn’t the reason why we're here." Andrew was so passionate about reminding his brother to get his head back in the game that he placed his balled fist in front of his own lips, "You're going to be spending a lot of time with her so please, brother, please, keep it professional. She's betrothed, she's off limits."
Tom studied the desperate look on Andrew's face. Ah, that's right, you were betrothed—he forgot about that though it was the first thing that they mentioned. However, Tom couldn't just shrug off what you said to him in the forest.
'They treat me as well as they're able.'
He remembers the solemn look on your face and in the way your voice spoke when you said those words. You didn't specifically mention who you referred to but he could guess that you referred to Stephen. The indifference between you as you both sat in front of the King was something that was so obvious. Stephen seems like a man who doesn’t know what he wants and the problem is Tom now wants what he has.
“You’re jumping into conclusions, brother—I’m nothing but an admirer, is it wrong to admire the Princess?” Tom asked in his defence.
“I’ve seen that look of yours before, Tom. You might be a tough warrior, a great leader—but I know one thing for sure. When it comes to love, you’re easy to fall and easy to break.”
Tom squinted as he peered over Andrew’s shoulder’s, “Hey look over there.” he pointed.
Andrew furrowed his brow and looked over his shoulder and that’s when Tom made a run for it to go to his barracks without his brother. Andrew turns back around and finds Tom missing. He sighed and looked up into the sky, “Hecate help us.”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Stephen sat in the infirmary while the scratches and wounds he received from the hands of your brother were treated by you. The frown that he'd been wearing ever since the Lieutenants had been introduced didn't disappear from his face at any point. When you delicately wiped on his lower lip with a white towel, he hissed, the skin that was around it felt tender.
"Oh, don’t be such a baby. You wouldn't be sitting in front of me right now if you hadn't gotten into a fight with my brother." After he wrenched his head back away from you, you responded harshly and sighed at him. You could see that he was thinking about something else, almost as if he was drowning in something that he couldn't easily put to rest. "What are you thinking about?"
Stephen assumed an upright posture and shrugged,"Nothing," he said after an extended pause before continuing, "You appear to be familiar with your Lieutenant."
Stephen looked at you intently, as if waiting for you to make a mistake; nevertheless, you kept your composure and shook your head while saying, "I'm not familiar with him." Whichever way the truth, the fact remains that he was a stranger to you.
Stephen's eyes remained narrowed as he continued to stare at you, and he eventually said, "Well, if he's going to be stuck with you the majority of the time. Now you will. He was smiling at you like you were something special.” He scoffed.
"Was he? I didn't notice," You aren't sure what he's trying to prove, but the way he was behaving got you a little bit irritated, and you accidently pressed the towel down rather firmly on his lips. If he was trying to make you feel less offended by his behaviour towards you by using some kind of reverse psychology tactic, it wasn't working.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” You removed the towel from the wound and cleansed it in a basin filled with warm water while saying, "Never pick a fight with my brother again unless you want to be a cripple for the rest of your life." You circled back around to the topic of him and your brother.
“I did not start that fight.” He spoke out in his own defence.
"No, but you made a contribution," you say, removing the water from the cloth by squeezing it and then folding it twice before going back to Stephen and moving his hair away from his forehead in order to wipe the dried blood from that area.
He maintained his silence and gave you permission to carry on attending to his wounds. The void that had been in his heart was slowly being filled. However, he was unaware of it, or his subconscious refuses to acknowledge that it is true. He couldn't help but fixate his gaze on the young beauty standing in front of him. His first thought—what felt like his first thought about you in a while, formed so slowly in his brain—was that you looked like a goddess. Your eyes were big and piercing and feline; your hair was jet black, combed to a glossy sheen, parted sharply, and flowing all the way down to your thighs; your lips were cupid's-bow charming; and your head was leaned to one side. You had skin that had gently seen sunlight, and wore no expression at all. You had no boundaries, all you knew was to shine, and live without any walls around you on every page.
You noticed the deceiving lustre in his eyes that you had to look away, and when you looked back at him, his gaze hadn’t moved and was still focused on your face, as if to say: So you looked away and you’ve come back, will you be looking away again soon?—which was why you had to look away once more.
Everytime he looked at you, you felt brighter inside, and you yearned to keep his attention, to hold his gaze. You sensed his gaze falling upon you time and time again. Though your heart still breaks at the knowledge that he can’t reciprocate your love for him, your heart pounded more than it should and your cheeks picked up a seemingly perennial red tint. You wondered whether he thought of you as a mere wife to produce his heirs or there was something special to that look he shackled you with.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare, Prince Stephen?” You finally called him out before your nervousness began to eat you up.
“I was not staring at you,” Stephen denied in a hard tone and averted his gaze elsewhere, “Where else am I supposed to look?”
“I’m almost done, just hold still,” You held his shoulders and brought him closer to you, your pregnant stomach brushing the side of his arm. You felt his hand press against the lower part of your abdomen that stuck out. The gentle touch of his palm on your stomach caught you off guard and you lightly jumped back.
Stephen took his hands away and lowered his head, “I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t think that all is well between us just because I am tending to your wounds, Your Highness. I’m only doing this as a gesture of penitence on behalf of my brother.” You informed Stephen who only clenched his jaw.
“Is it not enough?” Stephen asked, “I sent you the finest flowers, presents, gave you the space you needed to get away from me, everything and everyone—including my father seems to be against me—It is for certain that me and Christine aren’t meant to be. And now you won’t allow me to feel my child who sleeps in the comfort of you? What more could you possibly take away from me?! What do you want?!”
“I want it to stop hurting!” You snapped, “No amount of flowers or objects will ever take away the sorrow you’ve given me. You told me no more secrets, no more lies! You said you wanted this to work but you came running back to her? You want to know where it hurts? Right here,” You seethed, harshly pointing towards your heart.
“Right there is where it hurts. All the time, day in, day out, every night. Even in my dreams. There’s no escaping it. It hurts because I gave my heart to you and you successfully deceived me into thinking I finally had yours, but no, you’ve left me hollow.”
"If you really think I had no ounce of love for you then that child wouldn't exist."
"Please—as much as I love this child, it wasn't conceived out of love. It's because their father can't live another day without fucking." You threw the towel on the table beside you and shot him a furious glare before storming out of the healer’s room, slamming the door behind you. Your fingernails dug into your palms but didn’t notice as you marched through the empty halls to go to the courtyard from some fresh air. You felt glad that your anxiousness wore off now that you’re out of his sight.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Engagement Ball – 1 year ago
You took a look around, searching for a stealthy way to enter the hall. You and your Fiance were being honoured at a ball, but you had no clue how you could possibly maintain your discretion, particularly in a Xarean style dress as outrageously revealing as the one you were wearing. You silently muttered an expletive as you saw that every eye was focused on you as you passed. Your sinful figure didn’t help matters. The antechamber was just as dark and gloomy as the façade of the building, and it was filled with opulently dressed aristocracy milling around. Like a prison. A jail that has wreaths of evergreen and holly hanging over the entrances and candles burning in gold candelabras throughout the institution. You are quite sure that you saw some mistletoe as well.
Peter craned his neck to find the herald. “There he is.” He pointed to a short, squat man with a wig and scroll who stood beside a large archway. Music and laughter poured from the room beyond. Another servant appeared to take your cloaks. Though you held on to yours for a second too long, the servant succeeded in tugging it from your hands. Feeling naked, you watched it disappear with a sense of helplessness.
When Peter pulled you toward the herald, however, you dug in your heels. “I’m not being announced.”
“But the footman said—”
You jerked out of his grasp. “I don’t care what the footman said!”
“Princess, the King insisted—”
“Darlings.” Lady Lazarescu spotted you and smiled wide, looping her arms through yours and Peter’s, “Let’s not make a scene, hmm?” Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to smile and nod at the eavesdropping aristocrats.
You tried to get away but the herald had already spotted you as well and urged you, along with Lady Lazarescu, to come forward and be announced. The trumpets played and the herald stomped his staff twice on the marbled flooring, “Ladies and Lords, with great privilege, I announce the arrival of Princess (Y/N) of the Xarean Empire, future Queen to our Crown Prince Stephen of Eltham.”
Before the curtains were drawn, Lady Lazarescu stepped aside and gestured for you to put on a smile. You sighed out of frustration and pulled a small smile as they drew the curtains open, revealing you beside Peter who assisted you in going down the stairs. The sea of people bowed before you, your eyes searching for Stephen.
The white marbled floor shone brightly in the candlelight, and iron chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling that had beams in it. A merry melody was being performed by musicians in the corner of the room close to a very tall pine tree. There was already dancing going on, but the majority of the visitors chose to socialise with the royal family while sipping champagne and milling around the room's periphery. You can tell that the aristocrats who are standing next to you have been drinking for quite some time since their speech is slurred and quite loud.
Scoffing, you marched past them through the room. You scanned the sea of black coats and sparkling gowns for Stephen, spotting his black hair at the far end of the ballroom. A group of admirers surrounded him, though the young woman clinging to his arm drew your particular attention. Your heart plummeted. Anxiously awaiting my ass. Even from a distance, you could tell the woman was beautiful: delicate and feminine; her porcelain skin and brown hair shone in the candlelight. She shook with genuine laughter at something Stpehen had just said. Uneasiness flitted through you.
This could only be one person. One boring, docile, wretchedly inconvenient pipe dream. Peter followed your gaze, wrinkling his nose in distaste when he too spotted Stpehen and the chestnut-haired beauty.
“Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”
“I’ll come find you later.” Your eyes never left Stephen’s face. Peter knew better than to follow this time. You’d just descended into the ballroom when another man stepped in your path. Though you’d never encountered him this close, you recognized his flawless complexion and hooded eyes at once. White silver hair styled to perfection, he wore more diamonds on his crown than were in looked like your entire vault. King Pietro Maximoff. Damn it. You didn’t have time for this shit.
Even now, that stupid cow was probably sinking her claws deeper into your fiance—reminding him of her beautiful lips, and smile, and eyes, and laugh—
“That is quite the dress.” His gaze swept up your body lazily, and he smirked, arching a brow. His thick accent surprisingly adding to his appeal.
“Your Highness.” You dropped into a curtsy, clamping down on a slew of more appropriate honorifics. He eyed your breasts appreciatively as you leaned down, and you straightened at once. Bloody pervert.
“Your name.” It wasn’t a question. Was he not paying attention?
“Princess (Y/N) of the Xarean Empire, Your Highness.”
His grin widened in delight. “You're The Xarean Princess? My apologies, I didn’t expect our barbaric King to have such a stunning daughter.” He actually threw his head back and laughed. The aristocrats nearest you paused, eyeing you with renewed interest.
“Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” His golden eyes sparkled with glee. “Tell me, how exactly did you trick our little Eltham Prince into marrying you? I’ve heard the rumours, of course, but everyone has their own theories.”
You would’ve gladly broken a finger to break one of his other appendages. “No tricks, Your Highness,” You said sweetly. “We’re in love.”
His grin faded, and his lip curled slightly. “How wretched.” At that moment, the crowd shifted, revealing Stephen and his many admirers. The chestnut-haired cow reached up to brush something from Stephen’s hair. Your blood boiled.
The King’s brows rose as he followed your gaze. “Love, huh?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Should we make him jealous?”
“No, thank you,” you snapped. “Your Highness.”
“Call me Pietro.” As he moved aside, his smile changed into a vicious one. You raced right past him, but at the very last second, he grabbed your wrist and planted a quick kiss on the back of your hand. You were fighting off the impulse to crack his fingers, “Come find me if you change your mind. We would have fun together, you and I.”
With one last, lingering look, he sauntered off, winking at one of the women who hovered nearby. You scowled after him for a moment before turning back to Stephen. But he and Christine were gone.
Because Stephen was so much taller than everyone else in the crowd, it didn't take you long to find them at all. Christine, being the Leetch that she was, continued to grip tightly onto his arm as they approached a door that was partly obscured by two evergreens. You followed in their footsteps as best you could. To your dismay, and maybe to your trepidation, they continued to be entirely absorbed in one other as they walked out the door without looking back. You made to slip through after them, but a hand caught your arm. You whirled around to face the Duke, Christine’s father.
You stood motionless, rooted to the spot like the evergreens beside you, as he began to pace. “Where do you think you’re going? Let our Prince enjoy this small pleasure away from your corruption.”
At the words, your confusion morphed into something sparkling and icy, and became more intense. As though you were the one who was responsible for setting up this premarital arrangement. As if you were the one who ought to feel embarrassed about yourself. You protruded your chin and moved forwards until you were in an inappropriately close proximity to his gaunt face. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but you need to take a good look at yourself in the mirror. When you go to Hell, Lord Palmer, you'll find that liars and hypocrites have their own designated area. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”
He stared at you with wide eyes, but as you moved away from him, he didn't make any attempt to follow you. As soon as you entered what could only be a kitchen, the savage delight that had been pulsing through your veins abruptly disappeared. It was empty. However, you soon found that a cold air was biting at your flesh, and you realised that the door on the other side had been left ajar. The thin space allowed the wind to whistle through it. You inched it open a little farther, seeing Stephen and Christine standing in a barren herb garden. The dark fragments of sage and rosemary were covered with snow. You moved in closer, but the wind was so loud that it was difficult to make out their words.
“I’m sorry, Christine.” Stephen cradled the woman’s hands on his own. She held her shoulders stiff—angry.
You shouldn’t be here, the small, disapproving voice at the back of your head warned. This is wrong. Private. You’re breaking trust. He’s the one breaking trust.
“There has to be something we can do,” Christine said bitterly. “It isn’t right. Maybe we can make a petition,ask your father for an annulment after. Surely the King wouldn’t keep you trapped in a loveless marriage.”
Your stomach dropped to somewhere below your ankles.
Stpehen stroked her fingers with his thumb. “Once my father’s decision is set it’s hard to change it.”
“No. . .I’m sure I could arrange a meeting—”
“Christine,” he said softly.
She sniffled, and you knew instinctively it wasn’t because of the cold. “I hate her.”
“Christine, you . . . you didn’t want me.” Your chest constricted to the emotion in his voice. At the pain.
“I always wanted you,” she said fiercely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was angry, heartbroken, and I just—I needed time.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and you saw her face clearly for the first time. She had gorgeous high cheekbones, big eyes that resembled doe's eyes, and luscious lips, “But I don’t care anymore, Stephen. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I want to be with you.”
You watched her press those lips to Stephen’s cheek and felt sick. Suddenly, you didn’t find their love letters funny anymore. He pulled away before she could move to his mouth.
“Christine, don’t. Please. Don’t make this any harder.” She paused, lower lip trembling. Her next words were a direct blow to your chest.
“I love you, Stephen.” She clung to him, pleading. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away, but we can still be together. We can fix this. You’re just engaged. Speak to your father again. He’ll send that whore to her Kingdom where she belongs, and—”
“She isn’t a whore.”
You leaned forward as Christine pulled back, frowning at something she saw in his face. “She’s a delinquent of a Princess, Stephen, she framed you. She—she doesn’t deserve you.”
Stephen gently disentangled himself from her arms. “Christine, this can’t continue.” His voice was low, resigned. “Whether or not you like her, you told me that my duty was for this Kingdom. I will honour it.”
“Do you like her?” Christine changed the subject, eyes narrowing.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me!”
“What do you want me to say, Christine? She’s my future bride. Of course I like her.” Christine rocked back as if he’d slapped her.
“What’s happened to you, Stephen?”
“Nothing—”
“The Stephen I know would abhor that woman. She embodies everything you oppose—”
“You don’t know her.”
“I obviously don’t know you either!”
“Christine, please—”
“Do you love her?” You held your breath, fingers biting into the doorjamb. There was a heavy pause. Then—
“No, I don’t love her.” He exhaled heavily, looking down. “But I think—I think maybe I could—”
“But you said you loved me.” She withdrew her distance from him gently, her eyes widened in shock and pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, “You asked to marry me! Me—not her!”
“I— Christine, I do love you. But (Y/N) . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You won’t hurt her?” At this point, her sobs were more heartfelt, and streaks of colour began to appear on her formerly white cheeks, “What about me, Stephen? We’ve known each other since we were children!” Her tears soaked her bodice, ruining the black silk.
Stephen’s hands hung limp at his sides. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”
“I’m sorry too, Stephen,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I ever met you.”
You slowly backed away from the door as numbness spread over your body. You have no right to be in this place. This moment hadn’t been meant for your eyes. Back in the ballroom, you stood apart from the crowd, your mind still reeling. Stephen loves her. Disgusted with your own behaviour, you shook your head. Of course he had. He’d said as much in his stupid journal—which you never should’ve read—and even if he hadn’t, he was a young, attractive man. He would’ve had his choice amongst any number of women. The thought rankled more than it should’ve. The image of Christine's lips, or any lips, pushed to his face, performed the same thing.
Christine reappeared a few seconds later, cleaning her face in the most stealthy manner imaginable. Before anybody could question her, she quickly bowed her head and made her way to the antechamber of the hall. When Stephen emerged again, you forced the knot in your throat back down and swallowed. As you watched him look everywhere for you, you considered going after Christine.
After hearing what you had, how could you possibly face him? After discovering what it was that he'd given up? Do you love her? No, I don’t love her. But I think—I think maybe I could— Could what? Love me? As soon as you heard the phrase, panic began to grip your throat. Stephen was able to pick you out of the crowd just as you were raising your skirts in an effort to depart the ballroom and go towards the exit.
As his blue eyes met yours and expanded, you fumbled through an uncomfortable wave while regretting your newfound insecurity. He began moving on while simultaneously avoiding the numerous nobles who sought to stop him and congratulate him along the route. He did this by gently excusing himself from the situation. When he finally got close enough to you, you adjusted your feet while being vividly and cruelly aware of your heart's pounding rhythm, your tingling limbs, and your heated skin. His hands clamped securely around your wrist.
“You look beautiful.” Your blush deepened as he looked at you. Stephen's admiration was almost, in contrast to King Pietro's haughty appreciation. . . respectful. A person has never looked at you like that before.
“Thank you.” you breath caught, and he tilted his head, eyes searching yours in silent question. You looked away, embarrassed, but then Princess Wanda, King Pietro’s twin, chose that moment to swoop down on both of you. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. You’d met her a couple of times during special events, she was a bit reserved at first, but after she warmed up to you, she was a bit more chatty and open. She knows you and Stephen’s brief history since that’s usually the subject during your high-teas.
“Tell me, who was that lovely woman you were with earlier? Your sister, perhaps?” You glared at her pointedly, but she ignored you. Subtlety had never been Wanda’s forte.
“Oh—er, no,” Stephen said. “That was the Duke’s daughter, Lady Palmer.”
“Close personal friend?” Wanda pressed, narrowing her eyes.
“You could say that,” Stephen answered woodenly. But Wanda didn’t bat an eye.
“Hm.”
“Wanda.” you forced a smile and reached for her hand, squeezing it mercilessly. “I think I’d like a little time alone with the Prince. Have you seen Lieutenant Isaac?”
She waved her other hand behind you dispassionately. “Probably beating his chest and challenging that other soldier to a duel.”
You looked back to where she waved. “What other soldier?”
“The pompous one.” She pursed her lips in concentration, but she needn’t have bothered. You knew exactly to whom she referred.
“What happened?”
“Oh, the usual male condition. Lieutenant didn’t want the other playing with his new toy.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, my female lovers never get into such a jam.”
Your grin was genuine now, “Perhaps you should go referee.”
Wanda studied your hand clasped around Stephen’s, and the feverish complexion of your cheeks. The way he stood close. Much too close. Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should.”
She stepped forward to embrace you, but Stephen wouldn’t let go of your hand. Shooting him a glare, she hugged you regardless—awkward, but fierce. “I’ll see you later,” she murmured in your ear, “Let me know if I need to castrate him.”
Stephen watched her leave with an inscrutable expression. “We need to talk,” he said finally, “Somewhere private.”
You followed him silently and fearfully to the same herb garden where Christine had her heart broken. You made certain to lock the kitchen door behind you this time. You didn't need an audience for whatever it was that he wanted to say, even if you had a sneaking suspicion that it would hurt like a bitch. He dragged a hand through his raven hair in agitation. “(Y/N), the woman you and Princess Wanda saw me with, that was—”
“Don’t.” As a precaution against shivers, you coiled your arms about your waist. Your tolerance has reached an all-time low. You would never have to go through that horrible conversation again. Only once hearing it was sufficient, “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.”
“I do need to explain,” he disagreed. “Look, I know we were engaged under less than ideal circumstances. But, (Y/N), I—I want this to work. I want to be your husband. I know I can’t force you to want the same, but—”
“I do want the same,” you whispered.
His eyes widened, and he took a tentative step closer. “You do?”
“Yes.” He smiled at your answer, then—truly smiled—before faltering slightly.
“Then there can’t be any secrets between us.” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “The woman you saw was Christine. You read my letters, so you know I love her. But—but nothing happened. I promise. When I came with my father, she immediately found me and. . . She insisted on being right by my side the whole time. Just now, I took her out here to discuss the shift in our relationship's limits. I told her I didn’t—”
“I know.” You inhaled deeply as you braced yourself for the coming conflict.
He frowned. “How can you know that?” Because I’m a shit person. Because I didn’t trust you. Because she is everything you deserve, and I am your enemy.
“I followed the two of you out here,” you admitted quietly. “I . . . I heard everything.”
“You spied on us?” Disbelief colored this voice. Feelings of fear ran through you. Whether you were shaking from the cold or your own shame, you had no idea.
“Old habits die hard.”
His brows pinched together, and he drew back slightly. “That’s not how I would’ve chosen for you to find out.”
You shrugged, attempting a bit of your old swagger, but it fell flat, “Easier this way though.”
He looked at you for what seemed like an eternity; you began to wonder whether he would ever break his silence. You shrank back from his scrutiny, “No more secrets, (Y/N),” he said finally, “No more lies.”
“I . . . I’ll try,” You whispered. It was the best you could give him.
He nodded, slow and understanding. “Let’s go back inside. You’re shivering.”
“Wait.” You grabbed his hand before he could turn, your heart lodged firmly in your throat. “I—I want to—” Make a complete and total fool of myself, “I want to say sorry—for everything.” You squeezed his fingers, your own stiff and aching from the cold.
“Christine was right. I don’t deserve you. I made a real mess of your life when I came into it.” His other hand came down on top of yours. Warm and steady. You were probably taken aback when he cracked a grin.
“I’m glad you did.” Your blood warmed your freezing cheeks and you found it difficult to look at him.
“Right," you cleared your throat, "well, then . . . let’s go back inside before I pass out from hypothermia.”
When you went back into the ballroom, the party was in full swing. You snatched a champagne glass from a passing servant and chugged it down in one go.
Stephen eyed you incredulously. “You drink like a man.”
“Maybe men can learn a thing or two from women.” you waved the servant back and grabbed two more flutes, passing one to Stephen. He didn’t take it. “Relax, Prince. Enjoy yourself. This is the best champagne money can buy. It’s an insult to your father not to drink it.” you scanned the crowd with feigned boredom.
After a few periods of time, a scrumptious warmth crept over your whole body. The music, which had been a dull and uninteresting waltz before, was sounding much better now. Livelier. You just drank the third glass in one go.
“Dance with me,” Stephen said abruptly.
You looked at him in bewilderment, “What?”
“Dance with me.” He stood on his feet and threw your arms around his neck. You tensed, glancing around, but he tugged you down determinedly. You complied. Stephen stooped slightly, and wrapped his arms around your waist. You laughed. You both looked foolish as you bent and strained to fit together, but he would not let either of you go even though it was obvious you were uncomfortable.
“This—this isn’t the proper way to dance.” You said and lifted your chin to look him directly in the eyes.
“Of course it is. This is our party. We can dance anyway we want.” Stephen shrugs. You chuckle inwardly.
“I—I don’t usually do this—”
“(Y/N), if you don’t dance with me, I’ll go and find someone who will.” His grip tightened on your hips.
“No, you won’t.”
“Then the way forward is clear. We dance.”
You blew out a breath and closed your eyes. “Fine.”
As nervous as you’d been to dance, you proved yourself capable within moments, moving with unnatural grace for someone who hasn’t gotten much dancing lessons her entire life. Stephen had a few missteps of his own. He would have said it was because of your dress, but it was just him being clumsy. Focusing was impossible for him. His hands were strong on your waist, and he couldn’t help but imagine them . . . elsewhere. His blood heated at the thought.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
That night, the tension in our room was so intense that it was physically painful. In preparation for your upcoming wedding, which would take place in one year, the King had ordered the two of you to spend more time alone together at Autumn shore. You were lying in his bed, and Stephen could hear you shifting about in the darkness. Your breathing was first loud, but gradually it became more quiet. You made another change. Effortlessly rolled over onto your side then your back. Then to the other side, then your back, and finally your side again. Attempting to maintain silence at the moment. But you were none of those things, and Stephen was listening to you. In a never-ending loop of repetitions. You were starting to send him over the edge. You had finally made up your mind to bend over the edge of the bed, your blue-green eyes finding him in the shadows. Your tresses are now scraping all over the floor.
When Stephen tried to sit up on his elbows too soon, your eyes immediately went to the spot on his chest where his nightshirt was hanging open. The fire erupted in his gut as he questioned, “What is it?”
“This is stupid.” You scowled, but Stephen was at a loss for why you were so irritated, “You know you don’t have to sleep on the floor?”
Stephen eyed you suspiciously, “Are you sure?”
“First things first, I need you to quit staring at me like that. Yes I am sure, its not a huge thing, really.” You rolled your eyes before scooting to make room for him, “Besides, it’s freezing in here. I need your big-ass body heat to keep warm.”
When Stephen was still unwilling to move, you coaxed him by patting the place next you, “Oh, c’mon, Stephen. I don’t bite . . . much.”
Stephen swallowed hard, violently blocking out the image of your mouth on his skin. He got onto the bed in a careful and unhurried manner, giving you plenty of opportunities to change your mind along the way. There was an unpleasant pause of quiet that lasted for many seconds.
“Relax,” you finally whispered, though you too, laid stiff as a board, “Quit being so awkward.”
Stephen almost laughed. Almost. As if he could’ve possibly relaxed with you so . . . so close to him. The bed, which usually was King sized, has been replaced to a smaller one. Half of Stephen’s body jutted out into empty space. The other half pressed into you but he didn’t complain. After suffering through yet another agonising minute of silence, you eventually turned towards Stephen with your breasts brushing against his arm. His heart rate soared, and he clenched his teeth in an effort to bring his intrusive thoughts under control.
“Tell me about your parents.” You asked, and just like that, all his thoughts of intimacy fled.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“There’s always something to tell.” Stephen maintained his firm fixation on the ceiling. Even though there was once again complete silence, you never stopped watching him. He couldn't help but cast a glance in your direction—at the enthusiastic, wide-eyed look you have on your eyes. Stephen groaned and shook his head in frustration.
“My Father and I don’t get along well, ever since I was a child. He’s always been too hard on me, probably because that’s how his father was to him. Mother wanted to have more children but Father said one son to inherit the throne is enough—if I had been a daughter, then my father would keep trying for a son but that wasn’t the case.”
You stared at him, horrified. “Marshall Wong was more of a father to me, he taught me plenty of things, first magic—as you already found out—but then I hit a growth spurt.” The side of his mouth quirked up of its own volition. “He began training me as a Sorcerer knight not long after. I claimed my spot when I was fifteen. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
You rested your head on Stephen’s shoulder, “Claimed your spot?”
Closing his eyes, he rested his chin on top of your head and inhaled. Deeply. “There are only two hundred mythical Eltham rings. It limits the positions available. Most serve for life. When a Sorcerer Knight retires or dies, an underground tournament is held. Only the winner may join our secret ranks.”
“Wait.” When you stood up, Stephen's eyes immediately blinked awake. You looked down at him with a smile, your hair playing lightly across his torso, “Are you telling me Peter beat out all the other contenders?”
“Peter isn’t a Sorcerer Knight.” Your grin faltered at Stephen’s reply.
“He’s not?”
“No. He’s training to be, though. He’ll compete in the next tournament, along with the other initiates.”
“Oh.” You frowned now, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“It does?” You nestled back into him with a sigh.
“Peter is different from everyone else here. He’s . . . easy-going. Open-minded.”
Stephen bristled at the insinuation, “It’s not a crime to have principles.”
You ignored him. You made a path down the collar of his shirt with your fingertips. Stephen coughed and cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the little movement. However, your fingertips had a really warm feeling to them. In addition to this, his shirt was paper thin.
You didn’t speak again for several moments. When you finally did, he wished you hadn’t.
“And . . . and Christine? Do you continue seeing her up until now?” All remnants of humour withered and died on his tongue. Stephen continued to fix his attention on the ceiling. In spite of the fact that you said nothing, your fingers continued to trace his collar. Coaxing. Waiting. He let out another sigh.
“You saw the letters. We . . . tried maintaining our courtship.”
“Why?” You asked and felt Stephen stiffened, immediately wary.
“What do you mean why?”
“Nothing. . .” You murmured. Stephen would’ve given up his Sorcerer’s ring to end this conversation.
You sat up, fixing Stephen with those unnerving eyes. “You were going to marry Christine.”
“Yes.” Stephen tore his gaze away from you and back toward the ceiling. A snowflake drifted in from the window, “Growing up . . . Christine and I were sweethearts. Her kindness appealed to me. I was an angry child. She tempered me. Begged me not to throw rocks at the constabulary. Forced me to confess when I stole the communion wine.” A grin tugged at his lips at the memory. Your eyes narrowed at his words, but you wisely said nothing. You sank down until you were pressing against his chest, and as you did, you lightly touched his exposed collarbone with your finger. In its aftermath, heat exploded all over his flesh in addition to everywhere else. Stephen repositioned his hips such that he was facing away from you while muttering a profanity.
You burrowed deeper in the blankets as the wind picked up outside.
“Are you cold?” Stephen asked.
“A little.” You reply and Stephen inched closer, lifting his arm.
“Will you accept an olive branch?” He asked and you swallowed hard, nodding. He pressed you up against his chest and clamped his hands around the small of your back. You were transformed back into a piece of wood in an instant. Small. Tense. Unyielding. Stripped of your prying questions, it was almost as if you were . . . nervous.
“Relax,” Stephen murmured in his low baritone voice against your hair, “I don’t bite . . . much.”
Quiet laughter rumbled through his chest. You hardened your body as much as was humanly feasible. You have no reason to be concerned. You undoubtedly heard the tumultuous beating of his heart, and you quickly realised your advantage.
“Was that a joke?” You teased and Stephen’s arms tightened around you.
“Maybe.” When you said nothing in return, Stephen pulled back to look at you. Another smile tugged at his lips. And, suddenly, he recalled your first night together.
“You don’t have to be nervous, (Y/N),” Stephen stroked your back, forcing yourself to remain still as you wriggled against him, “I’m not going to try anything.”
A noise of protest escaped you, “Why not?”
“I seem to remember you threatening to cut me open if I touched you without permission.” When your eyelids began to close, Stephen cocked your head forwards, cursing inwardly while simultaneously praising himself. When he felt a little catch in your breath, Stephen leaned in closer, his lips coming dangerously close to yours. "If you don't ask me to touch you, I won't."
Your eyes flew open, and you pushed him away with a snarl, “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.” Stephen smirked again and settled back against the pillow, “It’s late. We should sleep.”
You looked at him with a fiery glare in your eyes. With understanding. With a degree of resentful adoration. Stephen, feeling victorious, watched you sort through your thoughts and saw how each feeling manifested itself on your beautiful face.
You scowled at Stephen and smiled sarcastically, “It appears I underestimated you.”
Stephen raised his brows, “Just say the magic words. Ask me.”
“You’re an ass.”
Stephen shrugged and sat up, “Have it your way.” In one fluid motion, Stephen lifted the hem of his shirt up and over his head.
Your eyes flew open incredulously, trying not to lower your gaze, “What are you doing?” You grabbed his shirt and threw it back at him—which he caught and tossed it all the way across the room.
“I’m feeling hot, aren’t you?”
“You—you— Get out of my bed! Get out!” You shoved Stephen, probably with all your strength, but he didn’t budge. He only grinned teasingly.
“This is our bed.”
“No, this is where I sleep. You sleep on the—”
“Bed.” Stephen brought his hands up to his head and clasped them together. You stared at him in disbelief, your gaze darting between his arms and his chest. Stephen's smile became wider as he fought the impulse to flex his muscles. He also recalled the day he saw you watching him through your telescope and said, "I've got a knot in my back from training for the last two weeks. I've had enough of lying on the ground. This is our bed, and from now on I'm going to sleep in it. If you'd want to join me, you're more than welcome to do so; if not, the bathtub is still available.”
You opened your mouth angrily and closed it again. “I— This is— I am not sleeping in the—”
Your eyes darted around the bed, clearly searching for something to impale him with but your eyes only landed on a pillow. Whack. You raised your hand for another one but Stephen caught it before you could hit him again, trapping it against his chest. Clamping his lips together to keep from laughing, “(Y/N)—lie down. Go to sleep. Nothing has changed. Unless you want to ask me something?”
“You better sleep with one eye open.” You yanked the pillow from him.
Stephen chuckled before turning away. “Good night, (Y/N).”
“Shut up.” You fell asleep long before Stephen did.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
"There you are," Tom's smooth silky voice interrupted your thoughts, "May I? Princess?" He looked pointedly at the space beside you on the marbled bench.
"Mister Tom," you referred to what you called him when you first met him, "You may."
"I was expecting I'd see you again but I didn't expect to meet you again in this way," He chuckles softly and takes the seat beside you.
"So did I," you lightly nodded, "I thought you were being taught your father's trade? Why is it that you're now a soldier?"
"Well," Tom clasps his hands together, "The Kingdom I lived in has been invaded and I've come here to seek refuge."
As you were informed of the devastating information, you let out a muffled gasp, and the emotions on your face became more serious. Since you haven't received any information of an invasion, you are now curious about the location of his previous home. If the Kings were aware, then they have done an excellent job of keeping the population in the dark about it.
"I-I'm so sorry to hear that," You paused, "May I ask which Kingdom?"
"Eivengard."
Your eyes widen. Eivengard? The mysterious land, a place where the trees come to life and magical animals lurk, is home to people who are said to use magic even today, despite the fact that no one has ever provided definitive evidence to support this claim.
"Eivengard? The mysterious Kingdom? You lived there?" You asked Tom fascinated, "Can you tell me more about your home? What was it like?"
Tom smiles at the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity as you turned your body to face him, "I don't mean to brag but It’s going to take more than words to describe its beauty, I would have to take you there."
A small smile stayed on your face, "Really? Is it true that the trees there are alive? Can you describe the Enchanted forest to me?"
Tom nodded, "The age of the magical woodland is incalculable. It reeked of age.Its earthy scent was caused by the centuries-long process of branches breaking off in the forest, falling to the ground, and decaying in silence. The composting, organic smell rose up in waves like a mist. Every towering tree that I had walked underneath brought to mind a vigilant watchman or a stoic guardian watching over the groves. If you decided to venture deeper into the tangled heart of this primaeval forest, you'd hoped that it would reveal its dark secrets.
The more you ventured into it, the more mysterious and bewitching it came out to be. Huge roots sprawled out over the ground and twisted in a manner reminiscent of the broad backs of aquatic monsters. The vegetation grew dense and lush, creating an arch of enchanted-looking greenery over your heads as it spread out. The arthritic and twisted branches of the tree were dropping its abundance of nuts onto the walkway below. Briars, brambles and berry trees flanked the trail, making it impenetrable on either side.
There is a wide glade, where the trees fell away, revealing the bespeckled sky. During the evening the last of the morning’s stars glinted like silver pin pricks, luminous and bright. The ore gold moon would hang quietly in the distance, casting a honeyed sheen over the trees.When I was younger, I used to sit with my back against the trunk of a tree that had been struck by lightning and watched it fade away. And as if on cue, an avian aria would erupt from the knot of trees. The solitary songbird was soon joined by his beaked companions, creating a symphony of song.The song has a wistful quality to it, as if it were an elixir for the spirit. The woods' honeyed aroma would wash over me, and I'd let myself be lulled to sleep by the reassuring warmth of it."
You sat there with your mouth gaping as Tom's words painted vivid pictures in your mind of the amazing things he saw in the enchanted forest, "Wow. I, too, want to experience that.”
"Well you're going to have to come to Eivengard with me—when it's safe, of course." Tom's grin grew wider as he saw the expression of amazement on your face; it was unlike anything he'd seen before, "I forgot to say this when we met; You are breathtakingly beautiful, Princess."
You elicit a shy laugh and look away slightly, "How many girls have had the privilege to hear that come out of your mouth?"
"Only yours."
Stephen, who was in the corridor on the upper level, discovered you and Tom engaging in a conversation in the courtyard. The man's jaw clenched and his blood began to boil as he heard the sound of your gentle laughter rebounding from what Tom was saying to you,"Unfamiliar, my ass. Is this how one acts when you're unfamiliar with someone?"
"There you are Sire!" Luke, Stephen’s appointed stylist for the wedding, ran to him and bowed, "You are to be fitted with a uniform for your wedding next week, please come with me."
Stephen switched his attention back to the courtyard, which is where he had last seen you and Tom before you disappeared. His chest tightened up at the idea that the other man had whisked you away to a place where you would be alone yourselves. He couldn't shake the notion that he should go seek for you, but he knew that coming with Luke was his only option at this point.
"Your Highness?" Luke glanced at the direction Stephen was facing.
"Yes, yes. Lead the way."
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Stephen stands at a platform with his arms stretched wide as the tailor measures his body. Andrew and Ben sat on the sofa in his room while Stephen complains about how it was stupid for you to have a male ward when, clearly, they now decided to also train women, “I know that look from a mile away, he’s definitely have feelings for her.”
“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset, your highness. Isn’t she getting married to you?” Andrew asked politely, causing Ben to chuckle at his question.
“They’re engaged and that didn’t stop him from running back to his ex-girlfriend when he realised the weight of his responsibility,” Ben answered and received a death stare from his cousin, “What? I’m just stating the truth. You don’t know what you want—You should’ve just been honest with her and told her you were confused instead of telling her what you told her.”
“Wait. . . can we just rewind because I am confused. So he told her that he felt the same and then he changed his mind and chased after someone else?” Andrew furrowed his brows while trying to understand the whole ordeal between you and the Prince.
“Correct.” Ben replied.
“Wow, that's cold.”
“Both of you do know that I am right in front of you?”
“Yes, we do.” Ben smiled, “And we don’t care—Now I’m actually curious on how you’re going to write your vows for her.”
Andrew’s gaze flicked towards Stephen who was thinking rather deeply, he needed to make it sound convincing not only for you but to all the people who will be invited. Stephen sighed heavily and caught Andrew’s gaze.
“I honestly don’t know, I can give it a try after this, but I can’t guarantee how convincing it’ll be.”
“Just write something from the bottom of your heart,” Andrew shrugs.
“Why don’t you grab a servant nearby to scribe, let’s get this over and done with.” Stephen adjusted his posture, trying to stay still to not get pricked by the needle. Andrew went out to find a servant and called in the first one he saw.
“Your highness,” The servant girl lowered herself to a curtsy.
“Yes, yes—grab a pen and paper and write down the things that I’m about to say.”
“Yes, Your highness,” She immediately grabbed a pen and paper on one of the desks and anticipated for the Prince to open his mouth and say something.
A few minutes pass by and Stephen still hasn’t said a word, “That’s a real tear jerker, cousin.” Ben slowly clapped his hands and shook his head. Andrew on the other hand pressed his lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips.
“I’m thinking alright?” Stephen snapped at Ben, “Okay. . . (Y/N), of all the people you've met and places you've visited you ended up here—with me. It is a very powerful and humbling fact.”
“Are you serious? That sounds like a eulogy,” Ben grimaced as he interrupted Stephen’s train of thought.
“You will be the clouds and I will be the sky. You will be the ocean and I will be the shore. You will be the trees and I will be the wind.”
“For the love of God, I almost threw up—Are you writing her a song or what?”
“Why don’t you write it then!?”
“It is kind of hard to write a vow when your heart isn’t fully set on her.” Andrew shrugs.
“And is yours set on someone?” Stephen asked the younger man, who nodded without hesitation, “Good, write one for me then.”
“You can’t be serious right?” Andrew chuckles. His smile faded when Stephen only gave him an expectant look, “With all due respect, Your Highness, that is your vows to her, it has to mean something to you.”
“I’m sure whatever you write will be the exact same as how I feel.”
“No it's not.” Ben opposed.
“Well it’s either write me something or both of you will have to listen to the pathetic lines I could think of.”
Andrew and Ben looked at each other, “How long does it have to be?” Andrew asks.
“Make it straightforward and concise. I don’t want anything long.”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
The last time you saw Stephen was during your argument—both of you have been preoccupied with preparing for your wedding and the only time you’d see each other was during breakfast, but even then, you didn’t speak with one another.
Today was the day that Alcina arranged for you to try on wedding dresses, shoes and jewellery—of course, Tom was there with you. Each time you came out from the dividers wearing a white dress, he always had this wide-eyed, slack jawed expression. Air whooshed from your lungs, and the entire Hall seemed to fade away, going silent as you stared at one another. Your heart thumped heavily as your hands spasmed open and then closed. He was staring at you, but so were the Ladies-in-waiting. Asha, particularly, noticed how Tom looked at you with heavy admiration.
As you turned around to face the mirror and admire the dress, Tom came closer after noticing the healing scar on your arm, his eyes lingering on the corner of your mouth, “You were hurt,” It wasn’t a question but a statement uttered in a hard-as-granite tone. “You can be assured that will never happen again.”
You became rigid as Tom's gaze collided with yours through the mirror and remained fixed on you. Even though you knew that he couldn't see your eyes through your veil, it still seemed like he could since his gaze was penetrating, as if he could see not only through you but also into you.
You made an effort to shrug off the emotion, but the more he maintained your sight, the stronger the sensation became. You attempted to ignore it. It had to be his eyes, specifically the colour of them. Indigo has such an unusual and beautiful shade. While gazing into their eyes, one's mind may wander to many other places and times.
“Alright, Lieutenant, allow our bride to admire her beauty not her scars,” Alcina gently pushed between you and Tom and he broke eye contact and pivoted toward the entryway. Your breath left you in a ragged exhale, your heart hammering as if you were running across the hills.
“That was…intense,” Asha murmured.
You blinked, giving a shake of your head as you turned to her. “What?”
“That.” Her brows were lifted, “You and Sir Thomas staring one another down. You two were engaged in a rather heated one on one just now.”
You could feel warmth creep into your cheeks. “He’s just doing his job. . .”
Asha lifted her brow, “Oh really?”
“Yeah, of course.” You smoothed your hands over the lap of your dress.
“So, he was just making sure you’re still alive and—”
“Breathing?” Both of you were surprised by Tom's suggestion. He had moved with the stealth of a trained guard and the silence of a ghost, and now he was standing a scant foot from from where you were standing, “Since I am responsible for keeping her alive, making sure she’s breathing would be a priority.” Your shoulders stiffened. How much had he overheard?
Asha made a poor attempt to smother her giggle with the back of her hand. “I’m relieved to hear that.”
“If not, I’d be remiss in my duty, would I not?”
“Ah, yes, your duty.” Asha nodded in scepticism, “I’m sure you can accomplish your duty over at the couch there Lieutenant, let us help the Princess choose a wedding dress. . . you know, for her wedding?”
Tom chuckled at the lady emphasising the word ‘wedding’ twice, “Of course.”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
“I would like to spend the rest of my afternoon in the garden, call for my mother also, please.” You told Asha, “Prepare some tea for me at the gazebo—I’m craving scones and jam, so please give me a fair amount.” You kindly requested from Asha who nodded.
“Right away, Princess. I’ll tell the chef.”
“Care to join me, Lieutenant Hiddleston?” you asked, even though he would be joining you regardless.
You left the room to head over the garden to have some tea. You glanced over at him as the marble staircase curved. He had one hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
He looked over at you then—more like he looked down at you, even though you were a step higher than he was. He was still taller, which seemed unfair. One dark brow rose, his gaze questioning.
“What?” You asked, heart seizing as you lifted your foot but not high enough. You tripped. Tom reacted fast, curving his hand above your elbow, steadying you. Embarrassment flooded your system as you muttered, “Thank you.”
“No insincere thanks are required or needed. It is my duty to keep you safe.” He paused, “Even from treacherous staircases.”
You took a deep, even breath. “My gratitude are never insincere.”
“My apologies then.” It wasn't necessary to see his face to know he was grinning, and you could guarantee the world was better for his smile. Silence reigned after you reached the second-floor landing, and he had become silent. You went downstairs, through the hall, and out the stairs to the gardens by turning to the left. Tom walked all the way to the end of the hall and opened the large oak doors, touching your shoulder with his arm. Before proceeding up the tight spiral staircase, he waited for you to arrive. The space was drenched in natural light thanks to the ovular windows.
“Watch your step. You trip and fall here, you’re likely to take me out on your way down.”
You huffed, “I won’t trip.”
“But you just did.”
“That was a rarity.”
“Well, then, I feel honoured that I bore witness to it.” He retorted back and a giggle elicited from your lips. He was speaking to you in a way no other person did— besides Asha. Not even Stephen had been so…familiar. It was as if you had known each other for years instead of hours…or days. The comfortable way he was talking to you was disconcerting.
You take your time admiring the newly watered plants under the sun that often shines warmly. You wander down the perfectly laid cobblestone paths that lead between the brightly colored plants with Tom patiently following behind you.
“What’s your favourite flower?” Tom asks, noticing how you’d stop from time to time to admire each time as you walk by.
“Snowdrops.” You answered easily.
“Why’s that?”
You slowed your pace so that you’d walk side by side with your Lieutenant, “Because it’s the first flower to bloom at the end of winter—it also symbolises hope.”
“Do you want to know a story about the Snowdrop then?” Tom asks and you look up to him with the same curiosity, “Legends has it that the snowdrop flower was born out of an angel who fell in love with a human girl, seeing her heart broken and shedding tears—he wanted something to comfort her in her despair, the angel picked up a snowflake, throwing it up on the Earth to cheer her up. As the snowflake shattered, it became a symbol of new beginnings and of hope. And everywhere the snow landed, snowdrops grew.”
“Wow, he must’ve loved her so much. That’s quite a short love story.”
“Thank you, I just made it up.” He said proudly.
“Well aren’t you quite a story teller? Have you ever thought about becoming a writer?” You tilted your head and he offered his hand for you to hold as you approached the small staircase of the gazebo.
“No but now that you’ve suggested it, I just might.” He chuckled while pulling the chair out for you, “Are you aware that you will be heading to Autumn shores tomorrow?”
“Yes, I am aware—I also heard that there won’t be any carriages?”
“Unfortunately, no. The King doesn’t want to catch any unwanted attention, therefore you will be riding with me. But rest assured that I will be riding gently, so as to not hurt the child you're carrying.” Tom left a fleeting glance on the stomach you didn’t bother to hide.
“Who else will be travelling with us?”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
The fact that you were expecting meant that travelling would take at least one day longer than usual. You embarked on your journey surrounded by Stephen, Andrew, Ben, Oscar, James, and Asha, in addition to eight other Royal Knights.
After travelling for a few hours to Autumn shore, you no longer need to depend on your imagination to understand what Tom had meant when he stated that you would be riding with him.
There wasn't much room to move between the two of you. Although you sat up straight and tried your best to ignore the sensation of Tom's arm being wrapped around your waist, the pace was challenging. Even though it wasn't a full gallop, the rigid stance rapidly became difficult and painful since you weren't accustomed to the way a horse moved this slow. With each passing hour, you inched closer to Tom until eventually, your back was plastered against his chest, and your hips were cradled by his thighs. At some point, the hood of your cloak had slipped off your head, and you chose to go about without it, in part because you were curious to feel the breeze on your face.
And in part due to the fact that each time Tom bent down to talk to you, you were able to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. You'd be correct. This was completely unsuitable for a woman who was engaged to be married. Or, at least the way it felt to be held by him felt inappropriate for you.
Stephen, in the meanwhile, was overcome with an overwhelming sense of wrath, which he characterised as a burning sensation in his gut and a sensation that he swore made him feel his temperature increasing. Despite the fact that it seemed like a living, breathing entity was attempting to claw its way out of him, he became entirely indifferent to the experience. He merely galloped out on his horse, glaring viciously at the man who was behind you while simultaneously observing how at ease you seemed to be in his arms.
Stephen squeezed so hard on the reins of his horse that his knuckles became white, yet he was oblivious to the fact that he was doing it. It disturbed him that you were so familiar, and he felt a wave of envy coming on that threatened to sweep him away. Growling possessively, he was already having a hard time restraining himself from acting on the notion of shoving the guy back and stealing you away from him.
Ben's eyes darted between you and Stephen, and he took the executive decision to block his cousin's vision in order to prevent himself from becoming more agitated. "Stare much harder and you could just wind up murdering someone," Ben warned his cousin.
Stephen overcame his reluctance to turn away and once again resisted the desire to declare out that you were his and to voice his ownership of you. He was well aware that Tom's clear sentiments for you would not be altered in the least by this fact.
An ugly, insidious feeling crept into him and he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “If I do, I order you not to stop me.”
Tom should hear the conversation and discreetly chuckled to himself. It was not hard to notice the way Stephen looked at him, he'd been at it for hours—he was just acting as if he didn't see anything.
When Ben found a suitable spot to spend the night to rest, he made a gesture with his fist for everyone to stop “We camp here, the sun is setting.” The commander dismounted his horse and the rest followed. Before Tom could have the chance to carry you down, Stephen made his way towards you and pushed himself in front of the other without being discreet about it.
Stephen assisted you off the horse with so much care before turning towards Tom who simply backed away, looking unbothered. You felt worn off and Asha came to your assistance, leading you to a tree stump to sit down on.
“She’s carrying my child, I hope you understand.” Stephen addressed Tom quite arrogantly.
“I understand fully my Prince,” Tom replied but shakes his head, “I’m just a bit wary that you might hurt her, and I can’t allow that.” Tom uttered without thought and by hurt, he meant emotionally.
“Hurt her? I'm not going to harm her. You, on the other hand, I'm going to destroy—if you don’t back off.” Stephen seethed closed in on Tom who stood his ground unfazed, both men sizing each other up, faces inches away from each other.
James who smirked at what was unfolding blocked your line of sight. You were already stressed enough, he thought that you didn’t need to see that.
“How are you feeling?” James asked, fixing away your stray hair that fell on the side of your face and removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.
“I’m just tired.” You weakly sighed and smiled at your brother. Your back was slightly hurting but you didn’t want him to worry. James glanced and noticed that Andrew and Ben had pulled Tom and Stephen away from each other. He then squatted down in front of you.
“Can I?” He asked to touch your stomach.
You nodded with a tired smile, “Of course.”
“Have you decided on any names yet?” James asked and gently placed his palms on your lower abdomen.
“Stefan for a boy and Sersei for a girl.”
“Does it have to start with an S?” James creased his brows, “Stefan sounds awfully like Stephen—I like Sersei though, it’s a beautiful name.”
“Stefan means victorious and that’s what I want him to be.” You told James as-a-matter-of-factly.
“And what about Sersei?”
“Sersei means bird, I want her to have as much freedom and have high ambitions.”
James casts you a proud gaze, “Well then, I can’t wait to meet my future niece or nephew,” James leaned closer to your stomach and whispered, “Make sure you take after your mother okay?”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Deep in the night, Stephen struggled to sleep—mainly because of the little ordeal he had with Tom. During dinner, they didn’t stop glaring at each other, their negative energy and tension so strong that it became awkward every time someone made conversation. He tossed and turned in his make-shift tent. Unlike everyone else, you got to sleep in a proper tent with your brother keeoing an eye on you.
The fact that he could hear Ben and Asha, probably making out, thinking that everyone was asleep was beginning to drive him insane. Tom who was trying hard to ignore them as well, placed his satchel over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise.
Behind Ben and Asha, Stephen sighed softly in his pretend sleep.
“We can’t do this here.” Ben’s strained whisper echoed too loud in the silence. Despite his words, Asha grinned and pressed closer—everywhere—until his own hips rolled in response, grinding her against him. Slowly at first, then faster. Ben lay back on the icy ground, his head drooping as his eyes remained tightly closed and his breath came in short gasps. His throat started to groan, “Someone might see us.”
Asha responded by tugging at his belt. Ben's eyes widened in anticipation as he stretched into her touch and savoured it. “Let them,” she said, each breathing a pant. Stephen wanted to throw up having no choice but to listen to this so he sounded another loud cough.
“Ashana—”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” Ben's fingers curled tighter around her hips as he sat quickly forwards, pressing her lips to his.
Stephen coughed again, much, much louder this time. Ben didn’t register it. With Asha’s hand slipping into his undone trousers—her tongue hot against his—he couldn’t have stopped if he tried.
With an aggrieved sigh, Stephen pitched upright and interrupted loudly, “Hello?! Yes, pardon! As it seems to have escaped your notice, there are other people here, trying to SLEEP!” In a low grumble, he added, “Though clearly those other people will soon shrivel up and die from abstinence.”
Tom, who had his back turned toward the other three, had to make himself laugh silently as his shoulders jerked up and down and his stomach ached, tears leaving his eyes; the fact that he had to keep himself quiet made the scenario much funnier than it already was.
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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ snow & stars⋆❅₊⁺⋆ [new 12/28]
18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n| f!reader | oneshot | word count: 16,450.
citing a lack of "team spirit," corporate requires you to attend the annual holiday office party (off the clock, of course) if you want to be eligible for your raise. luckily, the new guy makes things... interesting. see below for context/warnings.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆•꙳⋆⋆₊ ͙͛ ˚❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆• ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
You’ve lost track of the conversation again.
Snorak and Rikatikbolok are droning on about something – the increasing cost of holo-color cartridges, maybe, and its impact on the quarterly budget – and you wonder for the five-hundredth time if you’ve put in enough of an appearance to go home without the Supervisor breathing down your neck next time you see them. You tug at the hem of your snug dress: crimson faux-velvet, pretty and stretchy and a little bit clingy. Cute for the winter holidays, you’d thought — until Snorak hadn’t been able to keep his stare off your thighs.
“What do you think?” Rikatikbolok asks, turning to you. You try to remember which office he’s in. Mergers and Acquisitions, maybe?
You blink over the plastic rim of your disposable wine glass. “I–” You buy a moment by taking another sip of your watered-down rosé, and grope for something suitably vague and money-related. “I think the real problem is inflation.”
Rikatikbolok blinks at you. “Uh–”
“You didn’t say she was smart,” Snorak interrupts, glaring at his friend. You think he might be from Accounting. “I don’t wanna fuck a smart girl.”
You almost choke on your wine.
Rikatikbolok is waving his hands in apology and surrender. “I–”
“It’s your lucky day,” you tell Snorak from Accounting. “I don’t wanna fuck a jackass.”
Snorak scowls at Rikatikbolok. “And she’s a bitch.”
You raise your cheap, company-provided drink in a mock-salute. “May all your potential partners see exactly who you are,” you toast him with a sparkling smile, “long before you have a chance to get them into bed. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
You squeeze past them, making a beeline for the cocktail table in a far corner of the open lobby. It’s shadowy over there, and currently vacant. You lean your ribs against the edge of the little table and set your wine down, toying with some of the cheap, shiny snowflake-confetti gleaming on top of the disposable table cloth. The conference hall has been strung with old, reused crinkle-paper streamers and crumpled silver snowflake decorations to celebrate the Turning of the Multicalendar — and intergalactic event, but one which holes particular significance here in the Alpha Centauri system. Personally, you’d rather be at home in your snug little apartment on Station Six, sipping mulled wine and waiting for the midwinter fireworks tomorrow night — but the Supervisor’s word is currently as good as law, you suppose. Trapped here in Timely, Inc’s corporate-lobby-turned-party-hall, people of all genders, body shapes, and species trundle aimlessly around the room, flirting badly and trying desperately to get drunk on the watered-down booze. Crimped lines of tiny string-lights snake awkwardly around support columns and maybe, if they’d dimmed the fluorescent overhead lights, it all could’ve passed as charming.
Instead, it just looks cheap and a little sad.
“Oh, but isn’t he the cutest thing?”
You wince, but no amount of flinching can block out the sound: Wevvie Wozbaaarg’s shrill voice demands to be noticed. It even punches through the dull cacophony of the dismal little holiday gathering.
“He is! I just want to play with his ears!”
⋆꙳❅̩̩͙•‧͙̩̩͙❆₊꙳ read more on ao3 ꙳₊❆̩̩͙•‧͙̩̩͙❅꙳⋆
comics-based, very loosely inspired by the Timely, Inc arc in Annihilators (2010, Issue 1), though i like... truly cannot abide timothy green ii's style of rocket in this series. try to imagine a nice jorge coelho or valerio schiti.
mild exhibitionism, mild degradation, praise, use of "slut"/"whore" (affectionate), begging, pet names, impact play (one? ass smack i think?), pinching, dirty talk, mentions of oral sex. lotsa fluff. i'm not super-well-versed in the annihilators arc because so many of the characters involved bore me to actual tears so apologies for anything that isn't strictly comics-canon. you don't need to have any real comics-knowledge to ride this ride.
not me writing almost forty pages of smut. jk its like fifteen pages of tension, fifteen pages of fucking, and ten pages content. ANYWAY minimal editing on this bad boy - i only finished writing it two days ago and i like to give myself longer than that to come at it with fresh eyes, so i hope it is tolerable! this is the last holiday oneshot (at least for this year - maybe i'll keep adding to this collecting next holiday season). thank you for being such sparkly little holiday lights in the darkest nights of midwinter, and may you keep cozy and warm and be well-loved, always. i hope 2024 brings only the best and most hopeful of things into your lives.
from
⋆⊰∙∘⋆❆ borealis ❆⋆∘∙⊱⋆
a 2023 winter collection
#rocket raccoon fanfiction#rocket raccoon#rocket raccoon x you#borealis#rocket racoon x reader#rfh smut#guardians of the galaxy#rfh fanfic#rocket x you#rocket x reader#gotg fanfiction#gotg rocket#rocket gotg#marvel cinematic universe#winter fanfic#marvel comics#gotg fanfic#guardians of the galaxy fanfiction#guardians of the galaxy fanfic#rocket raccoon fanfic#rocket raccoon smut
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Of All the People - ch. 1
Chapter 1 of the fanfiction that @attackradish and @ectolemonades and I wrote together for @invisobang! Starring art by the esteemed @toasty-ghosti! Their art for this chapter is also posted on their own blog here!
summary: After a stupid dare puts Dash Baxter in the lab at Fentonworks during the middle of a ghost fight, he finds himself a little more spectral than usual. Apparently Danny Fenton's gone through the same thing (someone has got to call OSHA on these guys eventually), and who could better help Dash than his hero? His lame, stubborn hero?
warnings: nothing for this chapter, but later chapters have existential crises and Spectra.
total words: 12k
chapter words: 2231
AO3 link
next chapter
===
Why did Dash agree to this? Fenton Works was fucking creepy, and wasn’t that the whole point? He'd been dared to break in because “that place is spooky as hell,” and here he was, shocked to find it spooky as hell. He should have known the air in the house would be dark and heavy like the middle of a ghost fight, but silent like the grave. He had half a mind to just turn around and walk right back out that front door— which, looking from the inside, was armed? —and go home. He didn’t have that option, though, when the point of the dare in the first place was to prove he wasn’t a coward. Earlier he had let out what Kwan called “an absolute Primadonna screech” while the A-listers were attempting to film a found-footage style fake ghost hunt. He was sentenced to a pilgrimage into Fenton Works in the dead of night to steal something cool from the lab. Now, just the entryway was making him wonder if being a coward was such a bad thing.
Since entry, the house had greeted Dash with breathless quiet. He knew there was all that creepy tech shit in the basement, so why wasn’t there any electric humming? It was like the house had noticed him and taken away any sounds he could have used to orient himself. He had to adjust to it, like when the pressure from an altitude change wasn't quite enough to pop your ears.
A sudden shriek broke the silence, and a shadowy figure burst out of a hall closet towards Dash. His legs burst into a sprint before he had time to think, taking him deeper into the suburban labyrinth. He ground to a halt by a hallway (that he could swear wasn’t there before) and ducked into its shadows to catch his breath.
A peek around the corner revealed no monster. Cautiously, he snuck back out for a better look. Maybe he could make a run for the door? He wasn’t going to die just to prove he wasn’t a coward. Let them show the video to the whole school. Hell, throw it up on national news! Anything was better than getting ripped to shreds by whatever that thing was.
Coast looked clear. As he crept back, his ears strained to make out any sounds masked by his footsteps. Slowly but surely, he crossed the Fentons’ living room. The door was just a couple yards away. He could make it. He grit his teeth, ready to outrun the devil itself, and bolted.
Just an arm’s reach away from the door, a claw snapped shut around his ankle and pulled. Dash fell helplessly to the floor.
This was it. His death was at hand. He would die on a stupid dare in a town that took “dead end” to a new level, offed by some entity whose name he didn’t even know.
…Why hadn’t anything happened? The oppressive silence of Fenton Works beat into his temples. The claw around his ankle slowly felt less and less like a vise. Dash turned to face his attacker… a pair of coats and a vacuum cleaner.
God, he felt stupid. The house lost some of its horror when it was so obviously domestic. He got up, dusted himself off, and turned back to the living room with a renewed sense of confidence.
Once he crossed the threshold into the much darker kitchen, the feeling of dread tickled back up his spine. He rested his hands on the table to steady his nerves. It’s just a house, Baxter. Remember what got you spooked last time? …But what if it’s actually something dangerous next time? And I’m not ready for it? He focused on his breathing. Listened for the anxious thump in his chest. After a bit, he regained some calm.
Without warning, he lost his balance. It was like the table had suddenly moved up and pushed his hand. At a glance it seemed a little taller, but it was too dark to see if the legs were still touching the floor, and Dash knew better than to check.
Maybe the kitchen was a bad place to be right now. Kitchens have practically everything dangerous for humans and just about nothing dangerous to ghosts— at least the lab should have something to defend himself with.
Dash wasted no time trying to escape the room. In his sprint, an open cupboard cracked against his forehead. He staggered backward and nearly flipped over an open silverware drawer. He overcorrected, stumbling forward into the stove, limbs sprawling over the cooktop. He froze at a distinctive t-t-t-t next to his ear— the igniting of a gas burner. The burner opposite his face erupted in a flash of blue. Then another a bit closer. Shitshitshit—! As he jumped away, the remaining burners lit all at once like a fireworks show. He bit back a scream (like that did anything for all the noise he’d already made) and sprinted through the kitchen with arms raised for cover. This house was absolutely haunted! Was it built on an old cemetery? Did the Fentons kill off some forgotten child of theirs? Had they finally pushed the spirits past their limit with their meddling in the paranormal?
Exhausted, his nerves shot, Dash pried open the metal door to the lab stairs and descended into the radioactive glow.
===
Danny hadn't particularly planned on waking up at 2 a.m. because he felt someone break into his house. He especially hadn't planned on that someone being Dash. But an opportunity to torment that pain in the neck with little to no consequence? He couldn't pass that up.
The first few minutes of watching Dash flail around in the dark and attempt to stifle panic over anything and everything were hilarious without any ghostly influence. By the time Dash made it to the kitchen, Danny couldn't resist stepping in. When Dash tripped over the silverware drawer, he’d had to react quickly to hold it and keep it from breaking. The trick with the burners on the stove was quite genius, if he did say so himself. Some ghostly side of Danny was taking a dark pleasure in the way Dash’s fear wafted through his house.
Once he reached the lab, though, Danny had to draw a line. That place was a mess, and even someone wearing protective equipment could be seriously hurt. In fact, depending on how much denial he was indulging in at the moment, he might even say he'd proven the lab lethal.
He only watched Dash rummage around for a moment before regaining visibility on the steps while his back was turned.
"You shouldn't be in the lab unsupervised. You could get hurt down here, y'know."
Dash nearly jumped out of his skin. The ectoplasm sample he was holding fell as he whipped around and threw his hands in the air.
"I'm so sorry I swear–! Oh, Fenton, uh," Dash spluttered, clearly trying to play off his panic. "What are you doing here?" Danny raised his eyebrows at him.
"This is my house, Dash. You were making enough noise to wake the dead," Danny smiled at his own joke.
"Well it's not my fault your family doesn't know how to close cabinets! Hey, shouldn’t you have a gun or something? What if I was an armed robber? What were you going to do, try to fist-fight me? You’d hardly weigh 100 pounds soaking wet!"
"Aw, you care if I can protect myself! How sweet," Danny snarked. "Let's see.” He ticked things off on his fingers as he spoke: “First you break into my house, then you judge my family's kitchen habits, and then you snoop around a lab full of dangerous equipment and manage to break a sample. Which, by the way, you have to help me clean up now."
"Why is it your business what I'm doing?" Dash snapped.
"Once again, this is my house, Dash." Danny sighed. "Whatever, if you help me clean up your mess, I'll give you whatever it is you came here for so you can leave and I can get some sleep."
Dash seemed visibly taken aback by how Danny spoke to him. Danny shrugged it off and went through the motions of cleaning up a spilled sample. Gloves, broom, rag, Fenton Disinfecto spray.
He walked Dash through the process, explaining vaguely how the spray would neutralize any potential ectoradiation in the area of the spill, just in case it was a particularly potent sample. He wasn't sure why he even bothered to explain it, or how he felt about Dash silently following his instructions with a somewhat solemn look on his face. Whatever. He couldn’t sulk his way out of cleaning up the mess he made after breaking into Danny’s house.
Mess cleaned up and cleaning implements properly sanitized, Danny started rummaging through cabinets with more confidence than Dash had.
"So, what were you trying to get? Wrist ray? Fenton Th—" Danny cut himself off with a small gasp at the feeling of cold air sliding up his throat.
"Uh, what was that?" Shit. Danny had hoped he wouldn't notice anything. He coughed, a weak attempt at covering it up.
"I, uh, thought I heard someone upstairs," he said. Dash didn’t get the chance to ask any more questions before there was a burst of green light and Johnny 13 was roaring through the portal.
Oh, just perfect. Danny had held out hope that it would at least be Boxy or some innocent blob, but why would he ever get someone nice at 2 a.m. with his biggest human tormentor in the room? He made eye contact with Johnny, who seemed surprised to be greeted so soon. Danny tried to look scared, or at least shocked, but it was the middle of the night in his own house. Sue him if he wasn’t feeling up to theatrics.
There was something like a ping in the back of his mind, and his attention was drawn to the side, where Dash was backing up away from the portal. He was shaking like a chihuahua, but he kept his movements slow, like Johnny wouldn’t see him if he didn’t move.
Whatever Danny did had to be fast and effective to keep Dash from getting hurt.
Johnny was over his surprise, his green eyes narrowed with determination. This wasn’t the time for an identity reveal, but Danny didn’t have any accessible thermos on him at the moment. Maybe he could find a weapon to force him away? The lab was pretty empty of weapons at the moment, except a Fenton Bazooka lying half-assembled in some work-in-progress “upgrade”. He didn’t trust it. His best bet was the Weapons Vault, 6 or so yards away.
“Hey, Twerp!” Johnny started revving his engine to charge.
Danny tried desperately to communicate don’t you dare act familiar with me or you’ll get a month of Soup Hell after this with a look. He turned to Dash. “Getting weapons. Stay here.”
In his rush, he didn’t wait for Dash’s stunned nod. He bolted for the vault door and hoped he was keeping Johnny’s attention.
===
What the FUCK was going on? First Fenton was acting all weird and nice and bold, and then some vaguely familiar goddamn ghost came out of the vortex, which was apparently some kind of portal just left open, and then Fenton stared the thing down and zoomed off into the front of the room but it wasn’t like he was running it was like he was gearing up, and the ghost wasn’t paying any attention to Dash and how was he supposed to protest? Then as the ghost chased after Fenton, who was off like a wild fucking cat, it started charging some kind of shot in its hand, and Dash had seen attacks like that one too many times watching Phantom fight. He had to cover Fenton’s back somehow, he wasn’t going to be responsible for letting the kid die because of his stupid dare.
His eyes darted around the lab. There had to be weapons around here somewhere, and Fenton was just overlooking them. There! On the workbench. It was big and looked partway disassembled, but it was the green and silver of ghost weaponry and it had an obvious trigger and he had to act fast. He hauled the thing up to his chest, aimed the best he could, and pulled the trigger.
For a second, he thought he succeeded. There was a massive flash of green light and the sound of a small explosion. But then he noticed the shockwave, coming from the gun itself and not its target. And he noticed the pain, blooming out from his chest like he’d broken more ribs than he even had and the broken bones had grabbed up his heart in their claws and eaten it whole. His vision stayed green as he noticed he was falling. And as his head hit the ground, his left leg exploded into pain, taken by the same hungry god that took his heart. He thought he heard a scream through the white noise, and he had no idea if it was his. If his own throat even worked. Then, there was nothing, except the thought that he had predicted his own death a few minutes too early.
#danny phantom#invisobang 2022#my writing#swagger bishie#halfa!dash#halfa dash au#teddy ghost#check ao3 for more tags!#dash baxter
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Tony had always been an average 17-year-old guy. He attended Millwood High School, had a close-knit group of friends, and was known for his easygoing nature and cheeky sense of humor. But like most teenagers, Tony despised one thing: hairiness. He couldn't stand it, whether it was a five o'clock shadow or a full beard, he hated the idea of hair on his face. He would obsessively shave every morning and every night, just to make sure...
One late evening, as Tony was walking home from school, he noticed a mysterious van parked at the corner of his street. The van was covered in intricate patterns, and a shadowy figure stood beside it, the dim light revealing just a hint of a mischievous smile. As Tony approached, the figure held out a small, shimmering chocolate truffle. "Take this," the man whispered. "I made it for you."
Tony hesitated for a moment. Taking candy from a stranger was, like, rule number one. But, feeling a strange sense of anticipation, he accepted the magical chocolate truffle. The strange figure retreated into the van without a word. With the truffle in hand, Tony continued his walk home. He decided to eat it when he got home and headed to bed.
The next morning, as Tony groggily stared at himself in the mirror, he was shocked to discover that a beard had sprouted on his face, thick and lustrous, with just the right touch of ruggedness. He couldn't believe his eyes, he was a hairy beast. He looked like a drop-out. A grease monkey. A nasty, stupid, lazy beast. Tony touched the coarse hairs. The thick black hairs tickled. It was as thick as the hair on his head. He brushed it, trying to see if he could make it work, and he even tried shaving it, but it stubbornly grew right back. No matter what he did, the beard remained, mocking his efforts to get rid of it.
As the days passed, Tony's friends noticed the change and couldn't resist pointing it out. They made jokes about his newfound facial hair, and Tony joined in on the laughter, even though he secretly hated his hairy predicament.
Desperation set in, and Tony decided to track down the mysterious van once more. He searched high and low, but the van seemed to have vanished into thin air, just like the strange man who had given him the chocolate truffle.
It was only when Tony realized that the van was gone, and the curse would be with him forever, he finally embraced his newfound hairiness. He learned to love the beard that had once been a source of frustration, realizing that it made him hot. He got looks from everyone. No one could deny it, Tony looked good in a beard. He was distinguished, rugged, manly, and so, so sexy.
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My Boggart
Warning: Smut/angst/cuss wards/sexual act
Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst
The room is bright with the rays coming from the Defense Against the Dark Arts room’s wide elongated windows. Laughter and hushed excited whispers with slight trembling voices talking to their friends for what’s about to come. I Look around with shifty feet hiding in the corner of the shadowy part of the room looking for my best friend Hobie. Not finding him anywhere I reluctantly looked towards where his six closer than blood brothers stand. Sunlight gleaming on them with all their face looking a little down cast, seeing them worry I know for a fact Hobie is sick today because he can make all of them at ease by putting them before himself, and thinking of how the one time I truly needed him the most, he’s sick.
Oh, how I wish our lesson was to defend ourselves from dementors, and panicking inside because I could have sworn that the scheduled date for defending against the boggart was next week and, not this week! I can feel my breathing start to pick up when the Professor asks us to get in a line in order to get started. As I start numbly move into the middle of the line, I try to think of excuses of a way to get out of here, but knowing if I back out now everyone will know I am a coward. Although, if I stay, he will know I’m terrified of him and it’s not exactly all his fault but when we were kids, he pulled a prank on me. One where I will never forget because of the nightmare of my childhood…
It’s pitch black, traumatizing silence, heart rate skyrocketing and not slowing down anytime soon, but nothing and I mean nothing compares the heart wrenching grief that holds me seeing my parents get murdered from other muggles. Not being able to help or scream loud enough for them to stop bashing their feet and fists into my parents’ limped bodies on the floor and all because of my witch powers show up because the strong bursts of emotions. For some reason my powers listened to my fathers’ words when he told me that he loved me, to be quite like a good girl, to not get caught, and to be safe. My body paralyzed from the gut-wrenching scene in front of me and the unknowing spell I put around me to keep me quiet was silencio.
Getting slightly nudged to go forward I snap from my haunting memories and looked at who nudged me to apologize for not paying attention, when my body stills just like before, one with terror and guilt. Jimin looks down at me with a slight smile and graces me with a nod of his head. My eyes widening, I mumble a small quiet, “Sorry.” Turning to look back in front of me to realize that there is the shocking nonexciting line. Shit I’m next. Next to my dreadful beginning, next to having guilt was over me with a lead like weight. Next, is having him know that he is my greatest fear. Next, is knowing that he is the most kind and generous guy now in school. Which will make this even more atrocious and last, but not least, is him knowing he is the only one to make that fear go away.
Gulping I step forward seeing the boggart changing into a shapeshifting mess trying to find my greatest fear. Which I can’t seem to prepare for. That’s when the once mixed emotion chatter becomes deathly silent because either my traumatizing despair looks right back at me or their utter shock of what the boggart turned into just for me to torture. Right now, there in front of me is Jimin laying on the floor beaten to the pulp with stab wounds leaking into a puddle of blood underneath him, as he reaches out to me saying, “help me.” I whimper out a crushing cry with tears streaming down my face, “No. please not again..” Shaking I clutch my wand realizing again this is just a boggart. I raise my hand getting ready to say ridiculous, but the boggart Jimin beats me to it. “You’re pathetic, even with your powers you can’t save me. Just like you couldn’t save your parents.” The exact same words the real Jimin said to me when he did the prank as a kid. Shaking my head vigorously I scream with determination, “NO YOUR WRONG!” vibrating with remorse I exclaim, “REDICLOUS!” In the next moment, the boggart Jimin turns into a healthy looking Jimin walking straight towards me with a gentle small smile. The same one he gives me in hallways, the same one after he apologized. Reaching out to caress my cheek, I lean into his hand when he gets ripped away from me. Opening my eyes to no longer finding boggart Jimin anywhere and that where I see the Dark Arts Professor look at me in concern. Then the once cold room that just turned into a nice cozy warm room turned once again
just like ice because of silence from my classmates and Jimin. Not even glancing at them, I rush past all of them running as fast as my feet can take me out of the room hearing the professor yelling for me to stop. Still too mortified from the whole situation, I don’t stop running and running until I end up under the bridge that leads to the lake dropping to my knees to weep into my hands hysterically. “How can I go back?”
Jimin’s Pov
Y/N sprints out of the room crying while I just stand there shocked by what just happened. Am I her biggest fear? I know what I did back then when I was a kid was wrong, but I had no clue it terrified her this much. Made her fear me this much. Made her hate me this much. I thought that her parents being murdered was just a rumor, a lie, but now I realize it wasn’t. Feeling guilt punch me in my gut, and feeling my heart twist in pain from actually hurting her this bad. Once again, I realize my horrific mistake but feel fifty times more regretful. I know I must make this right somehow, but what I don’t understand is why was I the one dying on the floor? Why was it so ridiculous and funny that I smiled at her and touched her? Does she really think I am still that kid? The kid that dared to do a prank and followed to do so just to prove my friends wrong. That stupid, heartless, jerk of a kid? The one I try to make up for every day since then and because of that. I do know one thing and that is there is only one person who can tell me every answer I need to know, and I need it now.
Y/N’s Pov
Walking towards the edge of the lake I wipe my tears from my face. Drained from all the emotions, I slowly discard my clothes. At first going snail-paced, but after unzipping and taking off my skirt I start to yank and thrash to get my clothes off to be free. Free from the school. Free from being a witch. Free from guilt. Free from the most horrified moment of my life. Free from my parents’ death. Free from Jimin. Yanking my jewelry off I walk into the lake not noticing anything around me because I just want to be free and be relaxed in the ice numbing water. Wanting peace and quiet, I start to rush further into the lake when I get yanked back into a warm firm smooth chest. Still dazed and confused about what’s going on, I feel arms wrap around me holding me tight into this unknown person. Struggling to get free as I am naked. I feel the arms get tighter and I start to panic, so I start to scratch this guy’s arms to let me go. That’s when I hear a semi deep but soft voice whisper in my ear,” Please don’t kill yourself. I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry please stay… Stay alive.” Frozen on the spot and mortified that this person thinks I’m trying to end my life I turn around in this guy’s arm to reprimand him that I’m not trying to die, but to just swim. I am looking up at the culprit as I open my mouth when my throat closes realizing it is Jimin. Not just Jimin, but a crying Jimin. One with so much pain and regret in his eyes. Feeling my muscles relax and soften not only from his touch, but from how much pain he seems to be in I swallow thickly raising my hand to hold his cheek, “I’m not trying to die Jimin.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What? But the way you stripped so fast and desperately too, and the way you were crying. Not only that, but rushing into water faster when you heard me start yelling for you to stop. Exactly how am I supposed to think after all that happened?” Tensing up again from taking notice that I am naked and cold, but also the mention of what happened in the classroom. Shaking my head slowly a no I begin to speak again, “No, I didn’t hear you I was lost in my thoughts and numb from crying. I just wanted to get refreshed with the ice cold wat..” getting cut off he speaks incredulously, “ Butt naked?.. and at school?.. and in broad daylight?” Blushing scarlet red I justify myself while staring at his bare chest. Bare chest when did he? Never mind. “I wasn’t thinking right, okay? I was emotionally drained after what happened in class, but also from crying so hard under the bridge. Look, I just want to swim and float, okay? I wanted to distract myself from everything.” Humming he pulls me tighter to himself right against him as my chest
brushes against his. “We need to talk Y/N, but as much as you are beautiful when naked. I’d rather talk to you when your fully dressed.” Hiding in his chest I nod in agreement, “That would be great and all, but I still want to swim, so you can stay and wait until I’m done, or you could join me in my skinny dip.” Looking back up I see and feel Jimin chuckle with his head thrown back before shaking it in disbelief as he lets me go before stripping his pants and boxers. When did he get rid of his shoes too? Was he really going to save me? “Enjoying the view Love?” “Huh?” I replied before realizing I was spaced out looking at his crotch the whole time. Mortified I speak rushing a little,” No! I mean yes, you look appetizing. I mean wait what? What I mean to say is you look fine and hot, but I was just spacing out. I swear!” Jimin starts to laugh so hard he squeaks while bending down touching his knees trying to control his fit of giggles. “Whatever you say Lovely.” Straiting up again he walks up to me with full teeth smile and grabs my hand and pulls me into the ice water. Once we’re completely enveloped by the lake water, he again pulls me close to his body to where my legs and arms naturally lock around his body. Staring into his eyes he speaks softly, “I’m sorry for what I did as we were children. I wouldn’t have done that if I thought the rumors of your parents were true. I regret it so much and I can’t apologize enough… but why? Why was I on that floor dying and not your parents. Why is it funny to you that I touch you or smile at you. Although, you allow me to pull you close now? It makes no sense.” Grabbing my chin with his thumb and forefinger, but then slightly moving his fingers to rub my cheek, I leaned into his touch. Closing my eyes I speak the truth, “After you changed, I saw you differently and after you apologized years ago, I forgave you, but then having Hobie as my best friend he won’t stop talking about you, so I saw you in a different light. Then you would smile at me with that small smile of yours and I would start to feel happy around you. Next, I sometimes catch you stare at me, and I would get butterflies because you wouldn’t look away.” Looking back up at him I see him smile gently and pushes me even closer until there is no room left and I gasped out looking at him with slightly hooded eyes as I felt his erection nuzzle in between my pussy lips. He’s so close to me, but not quite close enough to get rid of the burn. That desperate sensation to have him even closer.
Starting back up I continue,” What I’m trying to say is, that I fell for you Jimin. The fear that you end up like my parents as war might break out again in the wizarding world and..” Stopping I gasp again before moaning deeply as I feel Jimin hum deeply in pleasure when he slowly pushes all the way into me. “Oh my gosh, fuck, so thick Jimin.. mhmm..” Grabbing the back of my neck to make me look at him in the eyes with a desperate need for him to be even closer. Somehow… someway. “And?” He spoke gruffly when I moan, “Ugh Jimin…” I whisper as I start back up where I left off, “And the only way to make that fear disappear is your smile; oh, Fuck Jimin I need you closer please…” He didn’t even start thrusting yet, but I’m already a begging mess. I can’t help it though. Even being this close to him, chest to chest, legs tangled together behind him as I pushed him deeper inside me. Then noticing him bite his lower plush lip through my almost closed eyes from the pleaser of us connected. Hips to hips I continue moaning feeling that itch slowly getting scratched as he grinds his pelvis against mine, grazing his tip to my cervix. “And when our hands touch just slightly when you pass the paper to me in potions class. Just imagining us as lovers takes away any fear that I have.” “Oh baby… Y/N…You have no idea do you…Shit stop moving just for a sec..” I whimper in need as the burning itch is back. Desperate to have his tip brush my cervix again I pull his hair at the back of his nape to pull myself up before dropping back down until his tip hits the spot where my muscle inside my pussy tightens around him before breathily moaning his name. Jimin’s hold on me tightens to make me stop moving and crushing me to him to where it almost hurts. “Love, please let me finish talking and then I can take care of your needs, okay? But here maybe this will help the ache for a little bit, hmm?” Jimin bends down and connects his lips with mine before circling his hips a couple of times until his tip sits perfectly kissing my cervix. Moaning into our mouths he stills and speaks again, but urgently looking into my eyes. “I love you Y/N more than you know. Even as a kid I had a crush on you that is why my hyungs dared me to prank you that idiotic prank. After apologizing to you I
wanted you desperately to like me, but watching you avoid me..” Huffing he circles his hips again before slightly thrusting into me “ Fuck Jimin.. please, please, please.. My Love please…” Slightly growling in his throat he moans out before kissing desperately, “ Fuck it, I’ll tell you after”
Picking up his pace feeling his raw veiny dick rubbing my walls before hitting the spot where he brushes against my g-spot before hitting my cervix just right. “Oh yes …Jimin..” Digging my nails into his back before matching his thrusts. Feeling the water swish around us and in between our hips as our bodies glide on top of one another. Feeling his chest rub against my nipples, which makes a tingling itch go straight to my core just before he scratches that itch with each thrust. Moving back slightly to look at him just to see his eyes drooped with hooded pleasure before ducking his head down to take my left nipple into his mouth rubbing the tip of his tongue on the tip of my nipple. He looks up at me one more time before he sucks and closes his eyes. My head falls back before breaking out into the loudest moan yet, “Fuck Jimin baby.. Oh, fuck yes right there.” Moaning out after almost each thrust of our hips when they collide again and again. Rumbling around my nipple he moves to the other. While bringing his left hand from my ass cheek, as to rub my clit in slow circles matching the thrusts of his hips. My breath hitches feeling my lower stomach slightly tighten, as it makes my walls tighten around his thick cock. “Oh shit… Y/N keeping doing that baby...” Kissing his way back up latching onto my neck before whispering huskily into my ear, “Can you Imagen us together on our positions desk?... Hmm? In the middle of the night where there is no one around and everyone is asleep?” Thrusting faster and matching the pace with his fingers on my clit I moan out gushing out my slick. “Yes Jimin! I do and have imagined it when I’m alone in the dorm rooms…. Fuck, fuck, fuck.. but can you imagen us in the middle of class? Me jerking your cock and you rubbing my clit… Jimin please I’m so, so close .. please, please fuck me deeper…” Removing on of my hand from his back I rub my hand down to his chest. Down his stomach and all the way down to give his balls a nice gentle squeeze. “Jerking you
off until you come and then pretending, I dropped something just to lick all of you clean…” Thrusting deeper into you he groans loudly,” Fuck your so dirty… I Love it .. so close.”
Now thrusting into me harshly splashing the water all around us I cum moaning Jimin’s name repeatedly. “Fuck baby that’s it cum for me. Oh shit, I’m going to cum.. Y/N… fucking take me .. Take all of me.” Reaching up to kiss my mouth desperately while moaning into it as our skin slide on top of one another, “Fuck I love you Jimin.” Slowing his thrusts Jimin rubs his hands from my ass to my hips all the way to my breasts, giving them a squeeze before taking ahold of my cheeks brings us closer together as we kiss deeply. Just enjoying one another’s touch and closeness. Jimin is still fully sheathed into me as we stay like this. Slowly touching one another and kissing what we can, mumbling I love you and sorry. Kissing my lips one more time he speaks with a gentle hum. “Date me Y/N. Let me show you my love and let me see more of your love for me.” Laughing quietly into his neck, “Okay… But we should get going we don’t want the headmaster to catch us.” His eyes widen, “Oh shit..” Furrowing my eyebrows I ask in concern, “What? What is it?” he looks at me slightly scared, “I don’t think it is our Headmaster that we should be worried of catching us, because look.” I look over my shoulder and squeal in shock. There right behind us is the Dark Arts teacher with his mouth hanging wide open.
(Credit Hogwarts to JK Rowling and BTS as Characters.)
#park jimin#bts jimin#jimin smut#jimin fluff#jimin angst#jimin x reader#bts#jimin#bangtan#jimin x y/n#jimin x you#btc#jiminie#hobie x reader#smut#bts smut#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts fanfic#jimin fanfic
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Hey guess who had a dream about surviving being springlocked? There were also two of Chica's cupcakes in the river as like a secret display thing my friend showed. The springlocking killed me btw but they managed to save me and I made a full recovery. So in my dream, we returned to school after the six weeks holiday and I dropped my jacket, spilling an absolute shit ton of stuff all across the floor, under everyone's tables and shit. As I'm going around getting my stuff back, I hear them saying I ruined springlock suits cause ya know surviving one failing on you is gonna cause a stir.
There was a whole game ending feeling to the actual springlocked situation too. Like as I was being springlocked, a shadowy figure came towards me in like a visual novel kind of way. In the distance for a good chunk of frames, then climbing up onto a platform nearby and then reaching for the suit I was in. I think I'd been running from them earlier I dunno but I was running from something in an underground facility kind of thing.
As I'd turned the corner, there were various endos against the walls and I just kept running. An endo at the end stepped out of this metallic blue station thing and walked to it's right to do something or other and I jumped into the blue station it came from to hide. Next thing I know, I get scooped, but then it swaps to me in a springlock suit cause I guess that's more fun or something or lined up with the previously established "everyone thinks you ruined springlock suits for actually dying to one and miraculously surviving after resuscitation" plot
Ya know, I'm not sure even the kids I went to school with would be that judgy about someone almost dying to springlocks ngl lmao like dayum I guess it's fine if this kid (me) came back after nearly dying horrifically but fucking hell they ruined springlock suits forever :( they get regulated to be actually safe now :( this is so unfair :(
I didn't see any of the recovery of anything like that. It started when I was walking with my friend and I was too scared to look in the river at the Cupcake because I thought I'd fall in and when I looked, I just kinda drifted into the water lmao. I thought "no no. I didn't do that. Put me back." and it didn't happen. I knew I'd been springlocked at this point but only vaguely.
I was then at this random place my brain generated for a school for lunchtime or something and picking my stuff up from the floor I heard them say I'd ruined springlock suits. I knew that this was because of health and safety changes and better regulation that was put in place as a result of what happened. Apparently things not killing you anymore means it's been ruined.
I feel like I either woke up for a sec or something else happened after that, but I'm not sure. Next thing I remember is me running from someone, the endos and then getting springlocked with the guy coming closer. Then I was back at the river with my friend where I actually looked into the water to see the two Cupcakes. One was pretty fucked up and the other was the replacement of it that was cute and in one piece still. Don't remember anything else after that except the second time I was at the river, I knew I had a shit ton of scars that were 'like tiger stripes' all over me. I was in perfect health though
Which is weird. You'd think I'd have some lasting damage from that...
Afterwards, in my in-between state of being asleep and awake, I dreamed up an answer to how I survived. I might have been asleep for this I dunno I couldn't tell. But anyway, the reason I didn't die was because something was jamming the springlocks before I was in there. So when they clamped down on me, they got even more jammed and that's what saved me. I then had some time on the recovery end and how absolutely agonising that would have been, along with random stuff about leg braces, crutches and whatever else, I don't remember the specifics on that, but it was all attempts to explain the recovery process.
I'm glad I don't usually have a sense of touch in my dreams because wow it would have sucked to feel all of this snndjd None of this was scary btw this wasn't a nightmare or anything. Sure, the guy coming closer was a bit scary, but not enough for it to really matter much lmao
Oh also, I remember that I dropped my jacket before the holidays and I was only just then going around getting the stuff that fell out of the pockets. I explained this to people asking what I was doing as "yeah I'm one of those people that keeps putting stuff in my pockets and forgetting about it." because there was a LOT of stuff apparently. One of the things was an old chocolate lollipop that was bigger than my average jacket pockets lmao apparently my jacket is like the fucking TARDIS now
But yeah that's what I was dreaming of all night! Fun, right?
#pop rox talks#me and my fun dreams huh?#also temporarily imagined a biological Roxy going through this but it was just a few seconds#lmao whadda hell brain#at least it wasn't scary and i didn't feel any of it lmao that would have been horrific#i like sharing my randomass fnaf dreams they're very entertaining to me dnjs#long post
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Reluctant Renegade - Chapter 2
Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader
Word count: 2,791
Summary: After the night that saw his transformation into a vampire, resulting in the death of his wife, Dean spends his lifetime seeking revenge on the one that turned him. Reluctantly living outside the law because of what he is, he finds his niche as a bounty hunter, hired by families looking for someone, anyone to avenge the deaths of their loved ones. He doesn’t play by the rules, finding justice for the victims by any means necessary.
But as dead bodies rack up and catch the attention of a young, naive but by-the-book detective, she won’t stop until she finds out who's responsible for them. Dean knows he has to convince her of his innocence, but can he do that while maintaining his secret? And when the alpha that sired him finds him first, can he keep Y/N safe?
Warnings: Angst, attack, blood, tears, more angst.
A/N: Inspired by the song Blood Like Lemonade by Morcheeba. Beta’d by my love @evergreencowboy. Big thanks to @writercole for being one of my cheerleaders on this since the idea came to me. I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the prologue and I hope you continue to, happy reading! :)
Series Masterlist | Series is complete on Patreon!
Y/N slouched back in her chair; her lip pulled in between her teeth as her eyes scanned over all the papers spread across her desk. The dull power of the lamp on the table was the only source of light in her corner of the precinct. She squinted as she read over files and reports, leaning forward as she clicked the mouse once more, the video on her computer screen playing. Her eyes flicked between all the images of the security footage from the alley, frowning as she tried to find a clear shot of the shadowy figure that attacked and killed the three guys.
A part of her didn’t feel bad for them, especially after viewing them running after some poor, innocent girl, but it was her duty to find out who this sick person was that quite possibly drained these guys of their blood. She knew it wasn’t possible, but the examiner’s report told her otherwise. Even with that fact, she couldn’t believe it. She had always been a logical person, a believer of facts rather than a dreamer of fantasies, so she had to find out what happened.
“Detective Y/L/N?”
Y/N glanced away from the computer, clicking the mouse to pause the video once more. She held out her hand as the officer stepped forward, handing her a document. She didn’t take notice of him walking away, too focused on the task at hand as she flipped through the pages.
“Fuck,” she breathed, cupping a hand over her brow, “I knew it.”
One of the men, Jake Edwards, the name she had asked the officer to look up, was linked to a coroner’s report on one of the previous victims, Jessica Hart. She had her suspicions once she saw his name, and they had just been confirmed. She felt the bile churn in her stomach as she read through the report, everything that he had done to the girl. The emotional side of her, which didn’t often come out during a case, was starting to take over. She pushed her hands through her hair, a long sigh weighted by the situation leaving her.
Her eyes averted to the small clock on her desk, seeing that it was just after 8pm. Taking one last sip of her now lukewarm coffee, she stood up quickly, her chair rolling away and hitting the other desk behind it. In meticulous gestures she picked up her blazer and swiftly put it on, grabbed her badge and placed it in the inner pocket, before checking her high ponytail.
It wasn’t too late to make a quick trip to Jessica’s mother, who was listed as the next of kin and Y/N had a feeling Mrs. Hart would have the answers she needed.
“Do you know the places he frequents?”
Dean glared down at the photo in his hand as he spoke, briefly glancing up at Mr. Wilson sitting in the armchair in front of him. He laid the picture down on the coffee table, ingraining the face of the man staring back at him into his mind. Mr. Wilson had contacted Dean that morning, needing his help much like Mrs. Hart had. The only difference was his daughter had died several months prior, and he hadn’t received any help. The man in the photo, Caleb Newman, had hurt her for hours, or so it seemed from Mr. Wilson’s words, before he took her life. Caleb was in the wind and the cops had given up, but the man in front of him clearly hadn’t. In fact, he wasn’t going to be satisfied until Caleb was found and was brought to justice, no matter the method of it.
“There’s a bar on Pine Street he goes to pretty often,” Mr. Wilson replied, his voice rasping as he wiped a stray tear. “I followed him there once, thinking I could… but-”
“I understand, Mr. Wilson,” Dean added, quickly standing up from the couch, his black coat falling into place as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “I’ll take care of it.”
Mr. Wilson shook it in a firm grip, a small nod of approval as he stared at Dean. “Thank you.”
Dean took his leave, shutting the door to the house behind him and taking out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He lit it as he took the porch steps down to the path and made his way to his car, blowing out a puff of smoke as he got in. The engine rumbled as he turned it on, the tires screeching as he pulled away from the curb, speeding down the road.
In the time it took for Mr. Wilson to give him the whole picture, he had decided that Caleb wasn’t going to make it past tonight. If he was at the bar, he would count himself lucky. And if he wasn’t, then he’d ask around until he found the man.
The sooner his pathetic existence was over the better.
Y/N’s knuckles rapped obnoxiously against the wooden door, her modest heel tapping repeatedly on the porch as she waited. By the time traffic cleared and she made it to the suburbs, it was quite late. She knew she wouldn’t be a welcomed sight at 9 o’clock at night but she needed her suspicions either confirmed or denied so that she could continue working on the case after the appropriate outcome.
“Can I help you?” a woman asked as the door swung open.
“Mrs. Hart?” Y/N raised an eyebrow but took out her badge once the woman nodded, “I’m Detective Y/N Y/L/N, Seattle PD. Can I ask you a few questions in regard to your daughter’s death?”
“The-the case is closed, I don’t see why-” Mrs. Hart started but stopped as she saw the firm look on Y/N’s face.
“Ma’am, her assailant Jake Edwards was found dead, exsanguinated, two nights ago,” Y/N stated.
Mrs. Hart frowned. “Exsanguinated?”
“Drained of his blood,” Y/N replied, firmly. “He along with two other male victims.”
“Detective, I can’t exactly feel awful about it,” Mrs. Hart said, glaring at her. “If you were in my position, you’d feel the same way.”
Y/N let that sink in. There was truth to it, she couldn’t deny that, but she had to do her job, too. “I’m not expecting you to, ma’am. I’m just here to ask you what you know. Do you think there’s any of Jessica’s friends that could be involved?”
“No,” Mrs. Hart replied, far too quickly for Y/N to feel confident about her declaration. “They’re upset, completely distraught… but they wouldn’t do something like that.”
“And you have absolutely no idea of who could’ve done this?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as kept eye contact with the woman in front of her.
“No,” Mrs. Hart whispered.
Y/N’s eyes roamed over the features of her face, down to her hands and the way she was standing. She had always had the ability to read people and in that moment she could tell that Mrs. Hart wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“Were you involved in any way, Mrs. Hart?”
“No,” she replied, meekly.
Y/N wasn’t convinced, but there wasn’t much more she could do at that point. She would have to take another approach tomorrow. “Alright. Thank you for your time, ma’am.”
As she walked back to her car, she couldn’t get what Mrs. Hart had said out of her mind. If you were in my position, you’d feel the same way. As much as it affected her to know what happened to Jessica and the other girls all these men had no doubt harmed, she had to separate her personal feelings in order to continue doing her job. As much as the rage simmered under the surface of her skin at what those men did, there was a bigger, even sicker freak out there. Bodies drained of blood. It wasn’t possible. Had the victims been found out in the forest, maybe she would have believed it, but not when they were found in the heart of the city.
Nothing was adding up. None of it made sense, but she had to keep going. She had to find out what was going on.
Dean leaned against the wall in the alley across the street from the bar, covered by the darkness of night. He watched intently, his eyes focused on the front widow facing the street, blowing out a puff of smoke as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips. With the face of the man he needed to find imprinted on his memory, it was easy to spot him through the glass, sitting at the bar as he nursed his third beer. He had been standing and observing since Caleb had arrived at the bar, taking a seat instantly at the bar top and barely moving an inch. He didn’t need to try and hear what was going on, because Caleb didn’t say a word to anyone apart from ordering his first beer, the second and third ordered with a simple gesture of his hand.
Caleb may have situated himself in one spot, but Dean could see his eyes wander as women walked past, his heart rate increasing and sweat collecting against his brow. He watched as Caleb finished his drink, dropped a few bills on the surface and left, just as a brunette woman stepped out the door. Dropping his cigarette on the ground, Dean stepped out into the streetlight streaming against the ground, keeping his steps light as he crossed the street. Caleb followed the woman, keeping a fair distance from her, but Dean stayed as close to him as possible. He heard the women’s heels click against the sidewalk, gaining speed just the same as her heartbeat raced.
Dean’s stride picked up pace, just as he sensed Caleb’s blood rushing through his body. As he reached within an inch of him, his hand outstretched, he suddenly stopped. Caleb was gone. He saw the girl running down the street, turning the corner and out of sight but there was no sign of him. He heard feet dragging against gravel, a struggle, choking coming from the alley two feet away, causing him to rush over. His eyes widened in shock as he saw a dark figure hunched over, the smell of blood reaching his senses.
The figure had Caleb by his jacket as he struggled for breath, a gargled choke leaving him. The scent of his blood was thick, unrelenting, until the figure dropped his lifeless body to the ground. Dean watched as the figure turned and stepped into the stream of light, a wicked smirk on his face. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he stood across from him, flashes of past interactions passing through his mind.
“Miles.”
Miles reached up, swiping his thumb across his stained lips, chuckling darkly. “Conrad sends his regards.”
With those as his parting words, he left, the gust of air brushing against Dean’s face. He didn’t move, knowing he wouldn’t get what he had needed for years, tonight. If Miles was here, then Conrad obviously was too, and as much as he wanted to go after them, it wasn’t smart. He had gotten carried away in the past trying to find them and had come close to death several times because of his reckless need to get revenge for Carmen. If he was going to kill Conrad, Miles and Leo this time, he had to be calculated. He had to move fast, because them being in Seattle wasn’t good for him.
They had already ruined his life once, and he couldn’t let them do it again.
Y/N yawned as she stepped out of the car, unlocking it and walking across the street. Her stomach rumbled as she made her way down the sidewalk, knowing exactly where she was headed, stopping in front of the pizza shop that was always open late. Her mouth salivated at the aroma coming from the open door, her empty stomach continuing to growl as she remembered her last meal was at noon. She waited for two other people to walk out before she held the door, ready to step in, but stopped suddenly. Frantic footsteps reached her ears, causing her to turn back towards the sidewalk. Her eyes widened as she saw a woman running towards her, her instincts kicking as she approached the brunette.
“Miss, miss… I’m a detective with the Seattle PD, what’s going on?” she asked, stopping her with her hand on the woman’s shoulder as she pulled out her badge.
“I-There was some-someone following me,” the woman stuttered, her breathing erratic.
“What did he look like? Did you get a good look at him?”
“I just saw his tan jacket, short hair, that’s it,” the woman replied, shrugging.
“Okay, I need you to stay here, by the shop so they can see you, I’ll be back,” Y/N instructed, making sure she stood close to the shop front.
The woman nodded before Y/N stalked away, her hand on her gun in the holster around her hip. Her eyes scanned the street as she pushed past people, searching for the only descriptors she had of the man. She growled in frustration as she made it down the sidewalk with no sign of him. A clattering sound from the nearby alleyway caught her attention, causing her to pull out her gun as she walked slowly through the darkness. She turned the flashlight on her phone on, holding it up and resting her gun over her arm. A tall figure stood in the middle of the alley, her eyes widening as she saw it standing over the man she was looking for. Tan jacket, short hair… with blood covering his neck.
“Seattle PD, hands in the air,” she ordered, her voice clear and firm.
Dean’s jaw clenched as his eyes shut tightly. This wasn’t good. He did as the woman behind him had said, raising his hands up beside his head. He listened as she stepped closer, her heels scraping against the ground as she changed her stance, her heartbeat steady.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he stated, turning his head slightly to try to get a glimpse of her.
“Eyes forward,” she warned, sternly as she glared up at him.
Dean stared into the darkness ahead of him, his mind reeling as he thought what to do, how fast to move without her suspecting anything and without the chance of getting shot. Yes, he’d heal but depending on where, it would be slow.
Y/N slinked closer to him, cursing herself for leaving handcuffs in the car but she’d have to manage somehow. He was significantly bigger than her but she had dealt with worse in the past. Her shoes clacked against the gravel as she stepped up to him, pressing her arm against his back as she moved her gun down beside her. She reached up and grabbed his wrist, frowning as she felt his skin against her fingertips. Colder than normal. As she tried to take the other, a loud, crashing sound came from the other end of the alley, causing her gasp as her heart thumped rapidly against her ribcage. She breathed heavily as a blast of wind whipped against her face, blinking in shock as she realized the tall man was gone.
“What?” she whispered, turning around in confusion, her eyes glancing to every part of the alley that had some form of light. It was only her and the dead body.
Y/N gulped as she stared down at the body, holding her phone over him to get a better look at his neck. There was a bite mark on him just like the other victims, same placement and teeth punctures. She moved the light down his torso, seeing no bullet wound which was unlike the other bodies. Turning off her flash, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into her forehead, feeling a migraine coming on as her stomach continued to rumble. She had to call it in, and she knew it would still be a long night once they returned to the precinct.
She had always thought logically when it came to her job, but what just happened made her see that there was nothing logical about any of this. Body after body, all with the same bite marks, a man who just vanished right in front of her… her career had been short so far, but she had never been this confounded by anything before.
For the first time since the day she became a detective, Y/N wasn’t sure what the next step was.
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RR: @maliburenee
#Reluctant Renegade#Dean x Female!Reader#Dean x Female!Reader Series#Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction#Female!Reader Insert#Vampire!Dean#Detective!Reader#Dean Winchester Angst#Dean Winchester Series#Dean Winchester Fanfiction#Supernatural Fanfiction
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Bully Tengen x AFAB reader
I took this inspiration from a boyfriend asmr role play by Lustium you guys should check out his channel he makes so great spicy asmr
You were in the library minding your own business reading a book for the upcoming test. Seated at the corner of the library just so you could have your peace and quiet when you saw a shadowy figure standing in front of you.Of course you look up to see who it is,To you surprise it’s Tengen standing in front of you what do you want Tengen you said,why am I even surprised to see you here you don’t do anything besides study geez you need some fucking friends you know that.What do you want from me now hey listen nerd who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that he says,You reply I’m not doing anything ,What do you even want from me you say slighty angered fuck can’t believe I’m doing this listen I want you to do my assignment for me an-no you say cutting him off before he finished talking excuse me the hell did you just say he said looking angry to I said no he laughed wow you’re really getting on my nerves you know that .Yes I do you said why exactly should I do your assignment for you because I fucking said so well I don’t want to go find someone else to do it for you you said getting up to leave.Tengen grabs your hand slamming your back onto the desk hey I’ll beat your ass do what the fuck I say you stayed silent that’s more like it as I was saying you will do my assignment for me b-but I don’t want to you say nervously does it look like I give a shit.He grabs you hand dragging you to the room ,What the you doing let me go! you yelled at him shut up he told you why did you bring me here you said looking around this was the old sewing room.bitch look at me so you you’re defying me huh well I you stuttered to find your words you wanna know something he said you looked at him confused w-what you said.A little someone told me you had feelings for me hearing that you face went pale as you looked at him in shock w-who told you that oh so it is true he smirked answer my question who told you that shit so it is true well fuck tell me who told you let’s see do you you recognize this name Sarah miller.Once again you were shocked hearing that name it was none other than the name of your ex bestfriend I always wondered what happened to you two you guys were always together wherever you went maybe she got bored of your boring ass personality.you couldn’t focus on what he was saying your mind was racing back to the time you told Sarah that you liked Tengen,You looked back Tengen tearing up why the hell are you crying he said wiping your tears I-you struggled to say anything your words were getting caught in you throat.Let me ask you this Tengen said do you get of to me degrading you huh tell me you just stood there not saying word but what he said next shocked you.You entice me you know that what? You said yeah why do you think I spend my time when I’m not with my friends or sleeping with other women with you he said smiling.Actually now that we’re alone it’s a good time to teach you to not let people over you but at the same time not talk back me isn’t it he said suddenly kissing you
I am so so sorry if this was bad like I mentioned I’m new to making fanfics so please bear with me but that’s all for part 1
I will see you next time bye 😘 my lovelies and remember you are beautiful 🤩
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(26/10/2022) HKMOA - "The Road to the BAROQUE"
Today I visited the art museum to watch an exhibition on baroque art. This is the second time I went to this exhibition because I lost the booklet I got from the first time. Due to having stuff to do, me and my friend only had around 30 minutes to enjoy the exhibition. It is not a big problem for me tho because I've seen the paintings before. I used this chance to take photos of some of the drawings that I like in the exhibition.
Here is the booklet of the exhibition. Besides of this, I got a pin from HKMOA too! Nice.
Pierre-Jacques Volaire, Eruption of Mount Vesuvius, 1777
This painting is the first one that caught my attention in the exhibition. The balance of colors and lighting are just amazing! The contrast between the orange and blue are so natural yet so bold. There are so many light sources, like the volcano and the moon, but still I can see that the scene is at nighttime, as huge proportions of the scene is shrouded by the shadow. However, the light sources are so cleverly places so every details can be seen clearly, even for the people and stuff at the bottom shadowy corners can be seen as their contour are highlighted by different light source.
Mattia Preti, Saint John the Baptist, 1653
This painting is surrounded by bunch of nude paintings. At the first time I went to the exhibition with another friend, we were talking about why everyone look so hot in baroque paintings. Even this old man looks hot af lmao. From the info in the exhibition, I guess it’s because they believe beauty=righteous that time. So the main characters in the paintings, which are often the good guys/woman, look so unrealistically hot.
Francesco Guarino, Saint Agatha, ca. 1640
This, is my favorite painting in the exhibition. Just speechless. The torture she’s been thru was horrendous but it is not the focus here, as you can see it’s only hinted by some blood stains, and her pale skin. The torture is not stopping her from radiating beauty and confidence. No sorrow or pain in her face as she believes in her faith and decision. Just… beautiful. (Reminds me of Viktor lmao)
Matthias Stomer, Supper at Emmaus, ca. 1632-1635
The dramatic yet cozy lighting makes me feel like I am sitting with these guys. The expressions on these guys faces are amazing. They be like, “WHAT? THAT MF IS JESUS? WE HAVING A MEAL WITH J E S U S?¿” (Tbh I forgot the context of this drawing and I didn’t have time to read it this time as it’s kinda crowded)
Giuseppe Recco, Still Life with Fish and Basket of Seafood, 1655 ca. - 1670 ca.)
I should really take a picture of the name tag next time I go to the museum. I have no idea if the date and the translation (I google translated it lol) are correct. The Italian name of the painting is “Natura morta con pesci e cesto di frutti di mare”. If you want to do more research you can find the painting with this name. Anyway, let’s go back to the drawing. Among all the still life shown in the exhibition, this one is my favorite. The colors of the fish are brilliant. I can look at the scales all day if there’s no one in the museum. The white belly on the red fish in the centre… it’s so wonderful. The use of more saturated yellow to highlight on a less saturated colder color, then the purple in the shading. Fish must’ve eaten the rainbow! Now I’m glad that the museum is crowded because I may cry if I have enough time to truly appreciate the amazing colors of the fish. Besides of how beautiful the fish looks, I can feel the fishy smell from the painting, which is unbelievable? Must be the reddish haze and lighting that introduced the fishiness to my brain!
Giuseppe Recco, Still Life with Festoons of Flowers and Game, 1671
Here is another still life that I enjoy. I like this painting because of how well-planned the arrangement of stuff is. The line of flowers is the thing that grab you attention at first as the flowers are im vibrant colors, which pops out from the less saturated colors of everything else in the painting. You want to look closer to see how beautiful they look and then your sight are being guided by them. First, I discovered the old hunter chilling in the shadow. Then, the bust and the pile of game in the corner. After that, I discovered the horn and being guided by the horn to look at the sky and trees at the background. Then, I saw some dude at the back and then being attracted by the flowers again. But this time, I have the attention to admire the trolley that seems to made of some high quality wood. Thanks to the big brain arrangement, I watched the whole drawing in detail, one by one, even when there’re so many details going on. However, there’s at least one detail I missed, which was the dog on top of the game. I know there’s a dog somewhere in the painting because I read the introduction but I just unable to find it the first time I went to this exhibition. I finally found the dog the second time, thanks to my friend, who pointed out the dog immediately after I told them how brilliant the arrangement is. She is built different I guess.
In conclusion, the exhibition is an amazing and inspiring experience. It’s the best 10 dollars I’ve every spent. It made me realize the photo is nothing compared to the real thing. I can never forget the shock when I saw paintings emitting rainbow glow in front of my eyes. They look so magical. It told me that I should really go to watch more exhibition to learn more about the magic. There’s no reason not to do that since covid is gone (not completely but at least the museums are opening). Also, I am an ART STUDENT TOO? I mean my course is kind of shitty, which I seldom have chance to draw stuff and explore art but THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE? NO WAY THIS IS THE FIRST EXHIBITION IVE SEEN IN THESE YEARS? I have worked so hard on my drawing grind all by myself in these two years so there’s no excuse to not do the exhibition grind too. From now on, I will be visiting the museums more often, and I hope one day I can see Dali’s work in person?? I really need to be moistened by Dali’s art. At last, I hope you enjoy this not very professional and informative report of the exhibition. I will keep recording my visits to exhibitions in the future. If you don’t enjoy it, I will try my best to make this more enjoyable by actually knowing more about art haha.
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