#so a deep dark red shine on chocolate hair
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I can't wait to get my hair dyed next week. It's been a good year without any dye and I HATE it
#rhy speaks ♡#we go for chocolate mixed with cherry wine#so a deep dark red shine on chocolate hair#never had red tbh#I'm a copper baby for 3 years#blonde before that#yea I had colorful parts here and there but never a full red head lol
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a privilege I deprive myself of
Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.
or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.
Words: 3.9k
Warnings: Talks of body image.
Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!
This isn’t ideal.
Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.
You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.
Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.
This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.
“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”
“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.
“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”
“I don’t.”
“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”
Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.
So this really isn’t ideal.
“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.
Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.
The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.
Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.
“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.
For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else.
In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.
“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…
“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”
“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.
“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.
Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.
“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.
“Well, fuck you very much.”
She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.
Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.
You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.
He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.
She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.
The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.
“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.
To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.
The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.
“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”
“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”
She nodded.
“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”
You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.
“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”
She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.
“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”
Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.
There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.
“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”
So, hm, this isn’t ideal.
You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.
Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.
So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.
As a friend, of course. Truly.
The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.
After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.
On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.
You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.
“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.
“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.
And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.
All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.
“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.
So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.
“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.
Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.
******
You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.
“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”
“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.
“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.
“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”
It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.
“What are you talking about?”
“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”
Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.
“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”
“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”
What?
“What?”
“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”
“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”
Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.
“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”
“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”
“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”
“You’re starting to freak me out.”
“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”
The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.
Again, not Postmates.
“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.
“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”
“Uh… No. Why…”
“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”
She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.
Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.
Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.
It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.
Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.
“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.
“Listen, I know how it looked-“
“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”
Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years.
“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.
“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”
“Melissa, the flowers…”
“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”
“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.
“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”
She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?
She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.
“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”
In love you with you. In love you with you.
I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.
It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.
The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.
You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.
“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”
You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.
She flinches, but allows it.
“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”
“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”
She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.
“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.
“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.
She raises a brow.
“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”
“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”
“Of course.” You say without a thought.
“As a friend?” She challenges.
No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.
If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?
You let your hands travel down slightly.
“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”
She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.
“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”
Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.
Forse sarebbe più facile.
“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.
I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.
“I know.” You say.
You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.
She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.
Now, the something more is clearer.
“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”
“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.
“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.
If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.
“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”
“Poor Gary,” you whisper.
“Yeah… Poor Gary.”
So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.
“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”
For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.
Heaven.
Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.
#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti x reader#abbott elementary fic#angst with a dab of humor (if you squint)#can anyone tell I am really into sarcasm as a form of comedy? ANYWAYS#themillsdaughter writes#‘hey shouldn’t you be trying to finish that wyp you started 3 years ago?’#yes yes i should but that’s not how the muse works apparently
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Moonlight
Pairing: John Price x reader
Summary: John loves doing activities with his girlfriend. Sometimes it's wholesome. Sometimes his naughty and sometimes it's both...
Warning: smut, 18+ content
Inside the vehicle are 2 lovers. Thier lips collide in a passionate kiss, thier bodies moving in sync.
In the dark of night, a vehicle stood alone in a isolated area, light shines through the fogged windows. The moonlights bounces off the vehicle and trees surround it, the vehicle bounces and rocks gently against the earth.
The rough pads of John's fingers gently roams his love angelic body, a deep groan leaves his lips "Love..."
His lips trails down towards her neck and sucks on the spot that makes her knees weak, his beard tickles her neck and pulls a moan out of Y/N.
Her hand brushes through his chocolate hair as she rocks her hips against his. Her gummy walls squeezes his cock and draws a grunt out of him. Y/N looks at him and takes in his image, his cheeks had a light blush, lips swollen and red, the thin sheet of sweat the clings to his forehead.
John kisses her chest and holds the soft flesh of her ass, his large hands squeezes it and that causes his biceps to flex. His mouth surrounded her nipple, his tongue swirls around her nipple.
"John~ Oh God!" she gasps and moans, her eyes closes as she feels the head of his cock spear into her.
"I know love..." his voice deep and raspy.
John moves his hips in sync with hers and tightens the grip he has on her hips. The tightening feeling inside thier stomach grows tighter and tighter, both of them picked up the pace and chases thier high. The coil inside Y/N snaps and she moans out in pleasure as her essence coats his cock and his heavy balls. This triggers him and he shoots heavy warm white ropes into his lover. Y/N purrs at the feeling and lays down against his warm shoulder, her hand runs up his stomach to his hair covered chest. John wraps his arms around her and closes his eyes, a satisfied sigh leaves his lips.
"I'm never going hiking with you again..." Y/N says.
A chuckle erupts from him, eyes still closed and smile on his face "Is that so love?"
"Yeah. When I said I wanted a break, I didn't mean dragging me back here and have sex with you" Y/N smiles at the memory of her sweaty boyfriend, encouraging her to move up the mountain with a smile on his face.
That damn smile.
"Sorry love, I couldn't help it. When I saw you sitting on a rock out of breath and red in the face. My thoughts got the better of me" John looks down at her.
He always felt a surge of love when he looked at her in his arms, she always looked so small wrapped in his large frame.
"Well... Pretty sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow" she giggles into his chest.
"Good. That means we get to stay longer in bed" he teases.
"No! That means your thoughts will win again!" she laughs.
"Perhaps" he chuckles.
The couple goes quiet, they hold each other close and enjoy the warmth shared between them.
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(Im)Perfect Relationship (H. Do-yeong & J. Jae-jun)
pairings: Ha Do-yeong x Fem!Reader, Jeon Jae-jun x Fem!Reader
word count: 1495
request: yes, marked at the end.
genre: smut
warnings: soft > hard (Jae-jun), grinding, riding, marking, exhibitionism, animal names, anal, breeding, spanking, pulling. soft (Do-yeong), fingering, sucking, aftercare, daddy kink, blowjob, lingerie, toys and inverse dynamics.
a/n: I managed to finish it today, I hope you like it ♡♡♡
part 1 / part 2 (smut)
Jeon Jae-jun
★ Jae-jun, at the beginning of your relationship, he thought about taking it slow, after presenting you with bouquets of flowers, expensive gifts and chocolate, he invited you to dinner, which went smoothly over him wanting to get to know you more. He paid the bill and said he would take you home, and he did so, when he was in front of your house, staying silent thinking if he should thank you, when you looked at him, he pulled you in for a kiss, a little rough but soft. . He had his hand on the side of your face, as your lips danced together and he slid his tongue in, the heat rising between you and you pushed him away for lack of air, with red cheeks and bruised lips.
★ When Jae-jun thought he was going to be scolded, but he was in his room with you on top of him, devouring his lips without any pity, biting and pulling his lower lip, scratching his neck and pulling some strands of his hair, which he let go I sigh as you began to move on his lap with your clothes still on. He felt your wetness through the clothes you wore, as he tried to push you to pull your damn dress.
★ He would let you control him until his peak, riding his thick and big dick, filling your insides completely, feeling him kiss your cervix, your nails were digging into his shoulder, while he held your waist and helped you , marking his neck, his collarbone and his breasts — which were jumping in his face while he drooled just watching.
★ His dick pulsed inside you as he groaned, arching his back, throwing his head back, coming down from your high. He let you calm down, you looking at him, eyes dark, strands stuck to your forehead, cheeks red, lips bruised. His eyes shining as he saw your shy smile, a slutty smile appearing on his face, quickly lifting you up and laying you down on your couch.
★ Devouring her lips again, pushing slow and deep, hitting her insides as he kissed her lips and neck, increasing his movements with her requests and his own need to release, the couch creaking as her moans filled the room, the heat rising, his hands under his t-shirt, scratching his back, your legs wrapping around his waist so he pushed deeper until you reached another orgasm, he withdrew and pumped his cock to cum on your abdomen.
★ Exerbionism; He would love to tease you at events where you were together, pulling you to have sex in a room or a bathroom stall at the party, pushing you non-stop and telling you to moan loudly so everyone could know who you are.
★ Animal names; He would be the type to call you a princess, a doll and a sweetheart at first, and then call you a slut, a whore and a little whore. "Come on, doll, you're almost there. Come on my dick.", "Look, rubbing yourself like a prostitute wanting more of my dick" — logically, dirty conversations, too dirty for you to cum right away or get excited.
★ Anal; This happened due to curiosity and the immense desire to fill all her holes. You're crammed in as he pounds your pussy from behind, two of his fingers roaming your little hole, until he sucks his own fingers and sticks them inside your ass, even though you're begging him not to, that night, you were fucked until your brain melting as you drool on the bed sheets.
★ Procreation; Along with exerbionism, that would be the reward (?), cumming over and over inside you while saying that your pussy was his and you would carry his children, or that he was his cum holder, filling your pussy and ass, pushing with his fingers when they were leaking even wearing panties ruined with his sperm.
★ Spanking & Pulling; His intention was never to hurt you but with your ass and his pelvis slamming, your ass swinging in the air, he had to hit it and leave his handprint on it until it was red and sore. His hair would be pulled while they were in the bathroom at a party so he could mark your neck and shoulder, he would pull the nipples of your breasts to make them sensitive while he was teasing you and causing you to overstimulate.
Ha Do-yeong
★ When he kissed you, he couldn't leave your lips, devouring your lips until they were red and swollen, pulling you into his lap and taking you to his room, kissing your chin, neck and shoulder, open mouth kisses, hickeys and kisses, so soft~
★ When Do-yeong had his hand walking under your nightshirt, he would look at it to ask for your permission, when he received it, he would take off your clothes, one by one, until you were naked, then he would do the same. Kissing her bust, abdomen and groping her breasts, making them hard while he heard her soft moans.
★ He would touch your pussy, already drooling for him, his rough and thick fingers, stimulating your clitoris, teasing your slit, while listening to your pleas, inserting them to prepare you for his cock, going deep, feeling your walls squeeze his fingers, so tight.
★ Fingering and sucking your pussy until you squirmed, cumming on his fingers and in his mouth as you called out to him. He got up to kiss you again, as he prepared to enter you with his fat cock, filling your tight hole, you crushed him, moaning just at the feeling of him pulsing inside you.
★ He would start slow, deep and slow, until you got used to it and started pounding your pussy faster, as you moaned while holding him close to you, him kissing you so as not to wake Ye-sol with your moans. Continuing until you came on his dick and he came inside you after saying he was taking medication, waiting for you to come down from your high to get out and clean you with a damp towel, he would kiss you, tell you that you were good and take you to the bathroom to clean themselves up.
★ Daddy Kink & Breeding; He would definitely feel weak while you were fucking in his room and you let out a "daddy", he would blush and smile smugly before starting to fuck you harder and saying that you are his little girl, teasing him with his new animal name you gave him. "Daddy, huh? You want daddy's sperm? Daddy will fill your little girl how she likes.", "Will you want to get pregnant by your daddy? Carry my children? I'll give you whatever you want, princess."
★ Fingering & Overstimulation; Before any sex, he would touch you, playing with your pussy until it gets messy, enjoying hearing your sly and needy moans, making you cum several times on his fingers before he introduces his cock that you had been begging for since the beginning of the session.
★ Blowjob; When you would visit him at his work, in tight and short clothes, he wouldn't let you go until you sucked his dick, letting him cum in your mouth and face for teasing him in such a way in a formal place. If he was working too much while he was at home, not paying attention to you and Ye-sol, you would go to his office and let him use his throat as a toy for him to relax in addition to waking him up to leave the room.
★ Clothing & Toys; Every month you would go to a lingerie store, he would choose one or two in particular for you to wear when you were with him, lace, satin, white, red or pink, to create an innocent and sweet aura. The sexy shop would be for both, vibrators and dildos, lubricants and even some costumes, he would be the type to let you play with him, but would also play with you.
★ Inverse dynamics; If he was full-headed and irritated, asking for a release, you would leave your role as baby to assume your role as wife. He would let you masturbate him with your hand, your breasts or the vibrator, if he was too needy he would even let you play with his tight little hole, letting you fuck him with a strap on, or dildo, he would let you play with him until he crying because I was so excited. In the end, laughing and saying that you were awesome taking charge, he would kiss you and ask if you needed a release, if you refused, he would ask to take a shower with you, if you accepted, he would find the strength to make you cum that night . When it was over, they would be cuddling in the bathtub, almost asleep in each other's arms.
tag: @classydelusionflower
#👻 gh0st headcanons !#kdrama#kdrama fic#the glory#ha do yeong#ha doyeong x reader#jeon jae jun#jeon jaejun x reader
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Under the Weather
Relationship: Steven Grant x reader
Warnings: Fluff, mentions of a cold and sneezing, Marc gets concerned for Steven (because he cares deep down)
Summary: When visiting Steven’s flat, you quickly find out he’s got a cold and with Marc’s help you do everything in your power to comfort precious Steven.
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
Word Count: 638
A/N: This idea hit me out of nowhere while I was at work and I thought it was a cute little blurb to do. I tried to portray Steven and Marc’s dynamic as best as I could from the show and I hope I did it justice. I adore these two and I really want Moon Knight season 2. This was not beta read so there may be errors.
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You hear the sneezing before you make it to the door of Steven’s flat, but you think nothing of it when you turn the key, entering the dark threshold to see him curled up on the couch.
Chocolate wrappers scattered along the couch like tumbleweeds, discarded tissues following in their wake. And Steven, the poor thing you can barely see him move a fraction under the colossal pile of blankets on top of him as he tries to get comfortable.
“Steven? Are you alright?” You take a step closer to the couch, deciding to kneel on the floor, careful to reach out and touch him through the blanket burrito.
ACHOO!
A less than-enthused mumble follows an exasperated groan before the blankets fell to the floor, leaving you face to face with the man you’d come to adore. His eyes are blotchy, nose red and runny, but that still doesn’t mean you love him or Marc any less. They are still gorgeous in your eyes. Your heart aches to see their body suffering no matter how big or small the circumstance.
Your hands cautiously reached out to cup his face, stroking his jawline. “What happened?”
“Nothing’s the matter, love. Just feeling a bit off more than usual,” he sniffles, and you hand him another tissue. “Marc has been insisting I rest, but I wanted to wait until you were back.” He protests, his puppy dog eyes shining irresistibly and you sigh in defeat gently kissing him.
“I’m glad you listened to him, Steven.”
He groans against your lips in appreciation, but when you do so, you catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror a few feet away, Marc’s form watches intently and you cast him a look of meaning, an understanding of thanks.
Thank you for looking after him.
He bows his head in acknowledgement; an understanding you both worked through, were still building upon each day. You know how uneasy Marc is in trusting people, always keeping them at arms length, but with you, something slowly changed within him. Something like fondness he found and sealed away, only letting it out for you bit by bit no matter how much he fought it. He couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried.
For you both care about Steven, worry about him constantly in his waking hours when he controls the body. He is too precious of a human for you to lose and you need him just as much as Marc. Marc knows you need Steven, but he finds himself wondering if you really need him from time to time. Right now it doesn’t matter, all he wants is the body well and for Steve to enjoy this moment, even though he feels like crap, but he still can’t turn his gaze away.
You and Marc hate seeing Steven like this, an utter wreck, unable to do anything for him other than offer him tissues. You pull him closer to you, running your fingers through his unruly hair, managing to convince him to get in bed and insisting he take a day off work. Soon after, you find yourself stroking his sides, his sniffling subsiding hour by hour.
A smile forms on your lips as you admire Steven’s relaxed form against you, an old worn yet loved sweater of yours gracing his form and it makes yout heart flutter seeing him at peace. Soft hushed whimpers fall from him as he buries his face in your neck again, tangling his legs with yours utterly content to be here in your embrace.
“Thank you, love. Love you s’much.”
“I love you too Steven, “ you chuckle pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead your gaze meeting Marc’s somber one before you blow him a kiss too wishing the moon boys nothing but peaceful dreams for another night.
******
@starks-hero @feral-for-strange @classickook @frostandflamesfanfic @lilythemadqueen @againstacecilia @novaracer27
#steven grant x reader#moon knight x reader#steven grant imagine#steven grant#moon knight#marc spector x reader#moon boys
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𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕
week 1 - day 4 - kinktober - face fucking and cum eating - sheriff lee bodecker x criminal reader
warning - face fucking and cum eating.
kinktober masterlist
18+ only please, the gifs and headers aren’t mine.
Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” Y/n freezes, her eyes wide as the man’s voice reaches her ears. She turns slowly and comes face to face with the Sheriff, Lee Bodecker. He smirks, looping his thumbs through his belt before stepping forward. One of his hands grabs Y/n’s chin and squeezes roughly.
“S–sheriff, I– This–” She becomes flustered. Having this big burly man so close to her is causing her brain to go all fuzzy. “You stealing, sweetheart?” Lee’s accent hits between her thighs. His eyes flit down to where she unknowingly rubs her thighs together. He smirks, licking his bottom lip before his eyes trace up her body and back to her eyes.
Y/n shakes her head, “n–no sheriff, I–I” Lee cuts her off, a hand sliding into her pants pocket, pulling out a chocolate bar. “Then, what’s this, sweetheart?” Her face flushes red, eyes going wide as her mouth opens and closes. Speechless, Lee’s eyes connect with her lips, and he starts to imagine what they’d look like around his cock.
The thought causes his cock to stir, and then an idea comes to mind, “well, sugar. I’ll let ya off with a warning if ya do something for me.” She rapidly nods, Lee’s eyes dark and cock hard as he leads her outside and to the side of the building. Lee leans against the wall, rubbing his bulge, watching the innocent little thing in front of him, biting her lip at the sight.
“Get on ya knees, sweetheart.” Y/n looks up at him with wide eyes. Lee raises his brow, “I don’t like repeating myself. Knees, now.” She quickly drops to her knees, looking back at him. The innocence shining in her eyes causes Lee to groan. He hurriedly unbuckles his slacks, unzipping them and then pulling out his erect cock.
The gasp that she lets out makes him leak pre-cum. She watches as it drips out of his tip, unconsciously licking her lips. “Well? I don’t got all day.” Lee growls, impatient. Y/n looks at him, confused, and that’s when it clicks to Lee. He watches as our curious eyes look up at him and back down to his cock.
“Sweetheart, you ever suck a cock before?” Lee watches as she shakes her head. His cock twitches wildly. “Open your mouth. I’m gonna teach ya.”
Y/n opens her mouth, and a small whimper leaves her as Lee grabs onto her head, fingers tangling into her hair and pulling slightly, causing tingles to shoot down her spine. The head of his cock rests heavily against her tongue, his taste invading her senses. Her eyes light up, her lips wrap around his tip, and she starts to suck.
Wanting to taste him more, instinctively licking the underside of his cock. Y/n finds his most sensitive spot, Lee’s eyes are wide as he struggles to contain his moans. His hand is still holding the back of her head, helping her bob up and down. His beautiful blue eyes roll to the back of his head, feeling like he’s in heaven as your beautiful plump lips suck his soul out. He starts to get impatient with you sucking on his tip, taking matters into his own hands. He grips the back of your head and thrusts.
A deep raspy groan leaves Lee’s throat, feeling you gag around his cock. The sound of his groan shoots tingles through your core. He thrusts fast and hard into your throat, his balls slapping against your chin. Heavy and waiting to burst, “fuck, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good, sugar. You’re such a naughty girl for stealing.”
His cock twitches. It feels heavy and warm on your tongue, drool seeping out the sides of your mouth, making it easier for Lee to thrust deep inside your throat. His head lolls back, and moans slip from his mouth as his hips stutter. He pushes deep before stilling. Holding your head there as you gag, the vibrations sending pleasure up his cock.
Lee looks down and finds your innocent tear-filled eyes staring up at him. Your throat constricts around him. Staring deep into your eyes, he starts to thrust again. Slower than before, one hand moving from your hair down to your cheek and stroking it, a soft groan falls from his lips as his seed spills into your mouth.
“Swallow, sugar.” He gasps out as your throat tightens around his sensitive cock. Swallowing his seed, moaning at the taste, Lee pulls out, tucking his softening cock into his pants before spying some of his cum escaping your mouth and down your chin. His thumb swipes it up before sliding it into your mouth, groaning as you suck it off.
“Well, sweetheart. This will need to happen for a while until I say otherwise. If ya wanna stay outta jail.” Lee looks at you and notices you nod while sucking on your lips, trying to get the taste of him again. His cock twitches at the thought of you becoming addicted to him, and his taste, gets him hard.
thank you for reading!
feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
#imyourbratzdollwork#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#lee bodecker#lee bodecker fic#lee bodecker fanfiction#kinktober 2022#kinktober#lee bodecker fanfic#lee bodecker fan fic#lee bodecker fan fiction#sebastian stan fan fiction#imyourbratzdollkinktober
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Hi I’m a whore for The Corinthian and couldn’t help myself when listening to my dance playlist, so have some club foreplay lmao also tagging @michaelmyersmalewife for dis
Reader is a trans guy, post top surgery; I also suggest listening to TRRST by IC3PEAK for this bc it was my main song for this lol
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There was a man staring at you.
Even through the foggy multicolored club you could feel his eyes, and when you find him you’re surprised that he ca see you through the deep, dark black glasses on his face. Slicked back blond hair, a deliciously sharp jaw and nose, and a smile that has you melting into the bar all fill your vision as you stare right back at him, seeing if he’d look away. Usually once you looked at your admirers, they acted like they’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar and turn away, but not him.
He smiled again, tipping his head in an elegant nod, and you swallow thickly. He was interested, not even put off by the stare you fix him with. Hell, he seems even more interested as you continue to look in his direction. His gaze leaves when a little twink sidles up next to him and coos sweetness in his ear.
You have to fight the jealousy that runs through your blood, hot green replacing the normal red.
The feeling abates when you turn back to the bar and get a shot of something swet and fruity. It slides easy down your throat and warms you right up, just the way you like it. The feeling of your buzz settling in takes your attention, and the fuzziness of the room fogs your brain almost as much as the club. You almost miss the feeling of the man’s gaze on you, but a bitter reminder of the twink next to him has the sugary film on your tongue turn lemon sour.
“You mind if I get you a drink, handsome?”
The voice over your shoulder is deep and full of sin, curved in the vowels like any good Southern boy’s drawl, and it adds to the buzz under your skin. Your eyes meet themselves in the shine of his black glasses and your heart hammers when you recognize your admirer. The boy that had been glued to his side has vanished and one big hand rests on your lower back, his pinkie finger resting on your tailbone while the pointer flirts with the bottom curve of your rib cage. The thought of those fingers doing more than just resting on your back makes your head spin especially when he uses them to gently move you to the side so he can fit in between you and the bar.
“Saw you staring,” you manage to get out, tongue heavy from the alcohol and his closeness. Gods, he smells like a dream, all spicy and musky. He chuckles deep in his chest and it reminds you of dark chocolate.
“How could I not? Prettiest thing in this place is right here,” he purrs, smiling when you flush and reach out a hand to take the shot of vodka from him. It’s harsher than your sweet drink from before but helps you loosen up enough that you lean into him. Your forearm presses against his hip under his suit jacket and his hand is still on your lower back, but it’s slid to cup your hip as well.
Somehow, after another round of shots, you find yourself on the dancefloor, rolling your hips and holding your arms high in the air. The man, Corinthian he had whispered in your ear before he pulled you into the swarm of bodies, keeps you close against him. His lips are soft against your neck, one hand sliding up your chest. It rucks up your shirt but you don’t care if people see the scars on your chest before the fabric falls back down. The song’s climax builds as Corinthian’s hand finds the expanse of your neck, his fingers pressing soft against your thundering pulse. You tip your head back and he presses a kiss to your mouth.
His tongue flirts against your mouth, fingers adding pressure slowly until you open your mouth and let him taste the vodka on your tongue. He grunts softly when you roll your hips back into his, pulling away to growl in your ear, “We should go somewhere.”
Even though your head is spinning and you’re giggly, you nod and let him lead you to the exit, guiding you by the back of your neck like a stray kitten.
#Whoreinthian#Nasti Writes#Trans male reader#Corinthian x trans male reader#Corinthian x reader#The Sandman#Mr Sandman
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hii i saw you’re opening requests for tis the season for love! may i request leon with prompt two? thank you so much :3
A/N: Here you are @leonscape !
A fic for the Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore
Leon x Reader
Word Count: 651
The salon is bathed in the warm, flickering orange and golds of firelight, highlighting the dark wood and deep reds of the velvet furniture. You are curled up on the end of the couch, one hand holding a small volume of recently translated Tanzanite poetry. The other is running a continuous path through the lustrous jungle of Leon’s rich, chocolate brown hair. He’s laying, long limbs stretched out on the sofa, golden eyes on the fire, listening to you read out loud. He’s not really paying much attention to the words. He just enjoys the sound of your voice, the rise and fall of it, your inflection and intonation, as you earnestly read poems describing feelings of love and loss and loneliness. You’ve reached the final poem and read the last line:
“The indifferent have only one soul, but when you love, you have two.”
If sighs could have colors, yours would be the softest, most romantic shades of pink and lavender. What a beautiful collection, you think dreamily as you lay the now finished volume down on the end table, lost for a moment in that ephemeral place that a writer leads you to with their words, a place that dissipates like stardust as reality slowly seeps back in.
“The emotions the author manages to convey, the allusions and imagery, the way they describe the depths of grief and the heights of love….” you trail off, your mind still filled with words and phrases and images as you reach for the cup of hot chocolate next to the closed book. “What did you think?”, you ask, glancing down at the head in your lap. No response. The fingers that are still combing his hair stop and then playfully tweak one of the locks that’s sticking straight up.
“Oi!” he exclaims as he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed on your thigh, his gaze traveling from the firelight to your face.
“Were you listening at all?”
His lips curl into a sheepish grin. “Something about love….and two souls?”
The roll of your eyes has him laughing softly, a sound as warm and fulfilling as the cup of hot chocolate you lift to your lips. Yves never disappoints you think as you take a sip of the velvety sweet drink.
Suddenly the head that was on your lap lifts as Leon pushes himself up, eyes shining now with interest.
“You still have some left?” His own empty mug sits in solitude next to the volume of poetry, empathizing with all the heartbreak within its pages
“Had.” You tip your cup to show him you’ve drained it to the very last drop.
He tilts his head, at first dismayed by this turn off events, but instead of succumbing to the sadness of there being no more, he is struck by some divine inspiration.
“I know a way I can still have some.” And then he is leaning towards you, his large hands cupping your face. And his mouth is on yours, parting your lips, a deep, soul-scorching kiss that would normally be kiss number five or six in line and not number one. But he wants a taste of that hot chocolate and will do whatever it takes to get it.
He kisses you breathless. He chases every single bit of chocolatey essence that clings to your lips, your tongue. By the time he is done, you’re left dizzy, your heart spinning wildly in your chest and your mind as melted as the chocolate in your drink.
“We must tell Yves,” he murmurs, “how much we enjoyed the hot chocolate.” You’re both sliding down the couch, his body covering yours in a way that sends a promising heat cartwheeling through you.
“Oh we will,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck, admiring the gold of his eyes, the flame in them miniatures of the roaring fireplace. “In the morning.”
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart
#ikemen series#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikepri leon#ikemen leon#leon dompteur#leon x reader#tis the season for love content creation challenge#christmas fluff#fluff fic#ikemen fanfic#ikemen fanfiction#otome fanfic#violettwrites
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“You’re Going To Be Okay”
Steven Grant x F!Reader
04-06-22
1.1k words
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Steven Grant x F!Reader
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Steven comforting the reader after they finally break down
Warnings:
-cursing
-hair pulling
-implied harm
-parents and child argument
-sad relatable shit
Extra:
-written for myself
-Not Proofread
COPIED AND PASTED FROM MY WATTPAD ONE SHOTS BOOK
Wattpad: @Ms_Blazer
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You tried to dry your eyes, yet more and more tears began to spill from them. It became so frustrating to the point your actions began to become more rough with your eyes.
You're hands met your hair and you gripped tight onto it. As you started to pull at it you couldn't stay quiet any longer.
Years of frustration and sadness began to flood out of you. The feeling of abandonment and neglect continued to wash over your entire being.
Your lungs felt as if on fire as your cries echoed throughout your home. You grabbed onto your body while it shook.
Feeling exhausted, tired and absolutely done with everything, you wanted to lay down but couldn't get yourself to get up to move only a few feet to your bed.
You're body started to give up on you as you're cries started to become quieter, your tears still flowing from your saddened eyes. Exhaustion began to take over.
You felt your side hit the cold polished wooden floor of your apartment. Your eyelids began to feel extremely heavy.
You're eyes were red and puffy from crying. Slow tears fell down to the ground. Before sleep took over your body you saw the phone you dropped earlier shine bright through the darkness of your room.
You could hear a similar ringtone which was only set for a certain someone. You wanted to get up and answer it. You wanted to hold him, hear his voice, but your body gave up and you're fell into a deep slumber.
You heard rushed footsteps and doors opening and closing frantically. You heard a male voice talking outside your bedroom doors. Your head was too fuzzy to see and you could barely hear anything.
Suddenly a shine of light was seen from your door as it was opened, while letting out a groan from the sudden light in the room you curled away into a small ball.
You saw footsteps making their way towards you. Someone was calling your name. You're eyesight began to focus again so you looked up to see who was in your home.
Steven.
'I didn't want him to see me like this' you thought to yourself. 'He probably doesn't even want to deal with somebody like me. Why is he here? Is he going to leave me like every other friend I've had? He can't- he's all I have- I can't lose him too.'
You began to cry again. Suddenly you felt two strong arms lift you into their chest. You looked up through your tear filled eyes.
You felt a rough large hand stoking your hair trying to calm you down. "Shh, it's alright Darling. I've got you, don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to you as long as I'm here." Steven's British accent clear as he whispered to you.
More tears began to flow through your tired eyes as your body shook. Steven's hold on you began to slightly tighten and became more comforting.
He began to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Steven held you until you felt yourself calming down.
Steven look down to look at you in the eyes. You looked up at him to meet his soft milk chocolate eyes. He smiled. "Are you feeling better Love?"
You slowly nodded. "Would you like to go lay down? Or maybe I could get you something to eat? Or drink? Would you like to talk about anything? Only when you're ready of course-" he stammered.
"I'd like to lay down" you whispered. He nodded and lifted you bridal style and layer you on your soft mattress.
You curled up into a little ball on your bed. Steven decided to join you and lay beside you and he brought you into his chest.
He brought the bed covers over both of your bodies. He cradled you in his arms while stroking your hair. You could feel his fingers pass through your hair as gently as a feather.
You hummed softly feeling a comforting feeling from your boyfriend. You two lay in a comfortable silence, embracing each other.
A few minutes pass and you could hear Steven whisper. "Do you want to talk about anything Love?" He asked while stroking your hair.
You slowly nodded. "Take your time now Love, remember that there is no pressure on you to say anything" he smiled. You looked up at him.
"I got in an argument with my mother earlier today, I went to visit her and just-" you took a pause. "It all just got out of hand and she was yelling, I was yelling. I knew I was in the wrong but me being a stupid stubborn moron I continued to argue..." You felt your tears returning back to your eyes.
Steven let you finish and held you closer. "It's alright, Darling. It's normal to have arguments with loved ones. It's okay. You'll be okay. I have an idea. How about we just relax together and forget about this for today and go see your mother tomorrow? You might feel better." He smiled.
You lifted your face up from his shirt. You thought for a moment. It does sound nice to get it off your mind and spending your time with Steven? Sounds like a win win.
You nodded and wrapped your arms tighter around your boyfriend. You quickly moved up to kiss his lips. He was caught off guard but kissed you back gently with as much love as he could muster up.
You both pulled away with a small smile lacing your lips. He laughed quietly. "There's my happy girl. You look gorgeous when you smile, you look wonderful any day in every way." You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and around his neck.
"Thank you Steven, how did I end up with the most amazing person in the world? Any girl would be lucky to have you." You whispered into his ear.
Steven felt his face get hot and redden. "W-well! How did I end up with the most gorgeous being hmm? And plus, this most 'amazing person in the world...' is all yours." He kissed you again as you gladly accepted.
The two of you decided to stay in bed for the rest of the day and relax and talk about all the new things you've seen or any new Egyptian Mythology Steven has read while the two of you cuddled till sleep took over both of you.
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Hope you enjoyed it! And if anybody is concerned at all, I'm alright! I know I said that I wrote this for myself (which I did) I am mentally alright!
Steven is just my comfort character and I thought that maybe I should write a story for future needed comfort
So thank you for any concern and thank you for reading!!
#x reader#moon knight#marvel#steven grant#marc spector#steven grant x reader#oscar issac#marc spector x reader#comfort#comfort character#moon knight marvel#moon knight one shot#mr knight#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fandom
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cold summer
My stress this summer is so bad, my neck is permanently stiff. Rigid, nervous, stone. A girl wakes in the middle of the night, she's alone in a deep world of empty houses, and in the dispossessed sleep of her childhood branches have started to grow from her arms, limp orange muddy leaves have overcome her hair, and she is rooting from toes down into floorboards. Nobody to ask a thing, like whether or not her experience of life is normal. So the branches grow, gather, then she is this isolated nature in her isolated bedroom, turned over to a cyclical light of day or night she sees only through gaps in her own weather, and so big with bushiness she can’t get out the manufactured door and enter the wood where, unbeknownst to her, are the others just like her, made of branches and leaves and who have solitary spirits also, though still need their roots to touch the roots of another. Or something. Sometimes, and I’m not proud of this, I look out at the green backyard and I see the peach-juice sun in the sky and I see the invisible breezes of July curling with tendrils of dark flora and it seems not like I'm here, but like I’m watching television, something bright and far away. I forget it’s my day, that I can even go over there and touch if I wanted to, I could even pee on the land like a dog would, if I wanted to, and claim this in some way.
Haven’t swam enough, haven’t walked enough, I’m becoming a little suburbanite cruising around in my dented car, seeing everything through eyes of windshield. The bushes, the houses, the pink sinking light—it’s all over there, and nothing is here but the music. This puts a strange layer of distance between me and summer, me and real things. I will make a point later to stick my toe in some mud – or press my bare hand into black pavement, will the asphalt to deflate like it’s a hot chocolate cake. Wouldn’t you like for the parking lots to liquify and sink below ground every summer, and for the black waves to rock our heat glistened cars around, up towards the marshmallow clouds; or for the greenery to not stop where it stops but extend until it’s like a shag of shining lime hair over the shopping mall, the movie theatre. If you don’t have a car, good for you, stay pure
Something else I’ve noticed — I’m such an impulse buyer. Buying feels close and friendly, like putting on some leather gloves. I would never want to see me at an auction. Stressed, my emotions lift to a crescendo where they then collapse from jitters into an almost hysterical net around my entire body—a pantsuit of stress, and it’s three colours: blue, red and purple, the baby. Feels warm, then cold. Here I either go to the grocery store to buy new condiments, shortbread, or jarred vegetables in brine or oil; or I’ll buy books online.
Today it was books. A small NYRB haul. I guess this is a fairly tame impulse, but I’d really rather be that one who stresses out and goes for a walk, or a swim, or a bike ride, or a scream into their pillow. Instead I just fill my cart, and it’s like filling a hole for a little while. Hate my methods. Look forward to the books. The Liar by Martin A. Hansen (“and for years now Johannes has lived alone”), My Friends by Emmanuel Bove, Machines in the Head by Anna Kavan and The Juniper Tree by Barbara Comyns. I’m drawn to stories with the desperate or resigned thud of loneliness in them; it’s what I relate to most; or maybe it’s not; it’s funny, even when people reach out for connection, I still want to believe it’s being alone I’m most capable of, even made for (I say that in a soldierly way, which makes it even more embarrassing). Björk was in a movie called The Juniper Tree, which was inspired by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale as was the novel by Comyns. Maybe I’ll read that too.
Today I’m in Montreal. I'm visiting my little brother. His balcony looks out onto other nondescript buildings, and he leaves the door wide open while he naps and I work on my laptop out here on the couch; trucks and cars roar a kind of grating metal noise down below, this noise feels prehistoric rather than modern, like out of sight the earth has split under lava and now we are getting not the sight but the noise, the noise. I decide to welcome it. The noise is not a fixed feature of my life anyway, but of his life, in this way it’s easy to welcome. Brief everything. Brief and body me. Bonobo plays on the television, then Seabear, and last night we watched some episodes of King of the Hill—the tornado episode had some beautiful red and green skies. My coffee this morning brought on nausea and I thought I could wave this dislocation off by eating a raisin croissant, but that made it worse, though at least it was good. Now I sit here with a foggy head taking forever to get my work done. EEEEEK
Later going to meet my brother’s girlfriend for the first time over some ramen! Then going to see the 10:15 show Oppenheimer with both of them, all three of us together.
In two weeks I leave for my trip! Ireland, Scotland, London, Iceland!
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One Walks In Shadow, One Walks in Light
<This post has not been approved for Sprouts.>
The Warrior of Darkness shares an early morning with a coworker.
6.5 Spoilers below; Minti_WoL timeline.
CW: Mental Health.
This covers most of what Discord previews? I think?
The boards of Eulmore's promenade were still wet from last night's storm.
Even now, in the early hours of the morning, there were servants airing out the walk's beautiful purple and gold carpets. Were they servants, or free citizens? One couldn't tell from the way they were dressed - shoe buckles shined to perfection, pressed dress pants and skirts, fine colored shirts and corsets. They certainly didn't mind stray drops of water running down their faces, nor the brusque sea air stinging their noses. And, to add to the dawn's going-ons, there were the songs! Old songs, with dirty puns about the ocean and the longings of sailors far from home. "How long runs your hair, My Dear." "My Love Dash'd to Rocks." There was even "'Til Sea Swallows Us All," but the words were different, and the tune not in the right key.
Just more confirmation that The First was a reflection of Limsa Lominsa in the Source - not warped, but different. An adopted Limsan like Minti Chocolate had to remember that.
If only this could have been a casual visit, and not a last attempt to stop a flood of Darkness.
Deep in the viera's bags were aetheric current generators - orbs of Ironworks design, Allagan tech innards, big enough to hold in one hand. If Y'Shtola was right, these would ferry Light from the Flood in Nabaath Areng, across the astral sea, all the way to the Thirteenth's moon. A beam of Light that strong should be enough to break into Golbez's domain, where the dragon Azdaya awaited rescue. Save the dragon, save the Thirteenth. Everyone goes home. Another world rescued from the machinations of Emet-Selch.
It wasn't that easy, of course. People on The First were fearful of the Crystal Tower being activated, and rightly so. There were still many who remembered the hold Light had over their world, the sineaters that plagued them, and the Lightwardens who danced to Lord Vauthry's tune. Y'shtola's plan needed a hero's touch, and there was none better to provide that than the Warrior of Darkness - Minti.
Tomorrow would be the return to the Source, after having made good with the Night's Blessed of Rak'tika and the reluctant mayor of Eulmore. Today was for rest, and maybe afternoon tea with Dulia Chai, if time permitted.
One of the well-dressed citizens, a young woman with long red hair and a practised smile, walked up to Minti with two steaming hot porcelain cups. "Fancy some morning tea, ma'am?" she asked with a thick Eulmoran accent. "My mate made a cup too many today, and, well, he chanced upon seeing you." The woman extended a cup. "Here, for you, Miss Warrior of Darkness."
"Thank you - you're very kind." Minti took the cup and smiled back. "I hope I'm not interrupting things."
"Not at all, not at all." The woman's smile was beautiful, even if she was lacking a few upper teeth. "I really must get back to work, but it was nice to meet you. Have a sip before the sea air gets you cold, ma'am. Thank you."
"Same to you. Thank you."
Minti grinned as she tasted a distant cousin of black tea, with hints of sugar and milk. This was nice. What was this, some sort of breakfast tea, maybe? It made for a good accent to the sun's slow rise on the horizon.
The cup was nearly empty when Minti heard the boards creak, followed by the soft clink of metal touching metal. Her muscles stiffened up as the metal got closer, but, mercifully, not too close. "Good morning," said a voice with a warmth Minti hadn't heard before.
Zero, or rather, Zero's soul, gave a stiff tip of the hat and a turn towards the water. "You're up before the sun. Is this usual for you?"
Minti's eyes turned away from the light, and towards her cup. It was a simple porcelain thing, with art of a woman in a floofy dress being chased in a garden by a brown hunting hound, its long tongue lolling to the side. A relic from the days before the Flood, maybe. "Not usually. I'd still be in bed."
"Your friend, Ryne, insisted on having breakfast with me. I told them I have no need, but.." Yes, there was definitely something different about Zero. They would've never talked about having a good meal back on The Source. It must have had something to do with them trying to absorb the Light in Nabaath. Something changed.
Minti moved to speak, then put a finger to her lips, tapping them ever so slightly. She didn't know what to say to the person who frightened her so badly back in Radz-at-Han.
(The Firebird) We can't have you faltering on stage. If you'll allow me?
(Signora) You, the lovesick buffoon of us? Ignore her. I can handle this. I will handle this if you don't.
(Minti) Just…quiet. I need quiet.
Nothing from the Choir.
(Minti) Thank you.
It felt like hopping across a tightrope, but Minti got through the pleasantries that come with small talk. Ask little questions, nod, tell an interesting story, but not one that's too long. Be pleasant, don't stare, and smile. Mère would have corrected her, certainly, or given her a tap on the shoulder to change the subject, but overall, she did fine. This was fine.
"Can I be candid with you, Minti?" asked Zero.
"I see no reason to refuse," replied Minti.
Zero...smiled? Yes, they smiled. "I feel the Light surging in me, as it once did in you. I look upon the sea, and I think of everything good that could waiting for me, somewhere on the waters.
I see all that you and your friends have done in this world, a place nearly lost to the Flood, and I cannot help but think of what could be done for mine. The possibilities seem endless." They nodded. "I have hope."
It took what seemed like ages for Minti to say something. "You mean all that? Hope." She felt as if she was going to faint, oh gods, the railing to the promenade was very close by. Steady yourself, girl.
"I do."
(The Artist) I think it is past time we stop charging at shadows, Minti.
(Minti) What's that mean?
(The Artist) It means: They are not Zenos. They're not him. They're voidsent, I'll take that. They were bound to Zenos, I'll take that too. But - and this is important, pay attention - they are not him. If you're going to work with them to stop Golbez, now would be a good time to make amends. I'm not asking you to be bedmates, I'm asking you to forgive.
"I guess I should be candid with you, as well." Minti's cup was shaking. "I was...scared, for a long time. Some days, I still am. I looked at you, and I saw *him*. I couldn't, I couldn't separate you from him. And seeing you now, talking about hope and Light and good things, I don't know if this is an act. If..." She quickly put her cup down on one of the worker's crates, for fear of it breaking. "If this is real. I'm sorry. I want to believe you."
"Minti." Zero broke her gaze from the sea to look up at the Warrior of Light's, this imperfect, broken being in the form of a viera. "I knew Zenos's feelings for you, his thoughts, but those were not, are not, mine. I wish for you to understand that. I see you as an ally and a friend, and I need for you to be strong - for all our worlds."
This was all so much to take in. There was that sinking feeling again, the one Minti experienced at Costa Del Sol. Maybe the First would do a better job at swallowing her up whole. "I think I'm going to sit down now, if you want to join me," Minti said weakly. "Look at that, I'm about to cry."
"Should I fetch you something for your eyes?"
Minti sniffled. "A tissue would be nice."
(Signora) We're going to be a weepy mess for the rest of the day, aren't we?
(The Firebird) Oh, do be quiet.
#final fantasy xiv#final fantasy 14#final fantasy oc#ffxiv#minti wol#final fantasy viera#minti chocolate#zero#own writing
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Empty Space 4
Empty Space - Chapter 4
summary: the boys and mars figure out what to do with eleven, and mars asks a favor [6.1k]
series tags: canon divergence, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, memory loss, [REDACTED]
Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five
Mars
Mars can’t feel her fingers. She can’t feel anything, really.
There’s the anti-sensation of numbness, heavy while weightless, that has taken root in her lungs and bloomed from toe to crown. The cold of the storm has frozen her arms and legs into a catatonic slumber, but the sinister recesses of Mars’ mind fight to be known.
Images are painted behind her eyelids in strokes of blood. Tears well pitifully at her lashes in an attempt to wash away the horrific.
It’s inescapable, Mars’ uncomfortably vivid recollection of the bullet cutting a path through Benny’s head and sending crimson out in a disgorging spew. How his large frame collapsed from underneath his own weight and how she didn’t see him hit the floor. It plays over, and over, and over in a grotesque reel of repeating film.
Of all the things Mars has forgotten, she wishes this could be one of them.
Thunder rumbles, deep but muffled. It pulls Mars from her stupor, the noise and the clench of her stomach.
She’s in a dark room, hunched over a sink and holding her hands beneath the faucet. The hot water handle has been twisted as far as it can, and Mars sobers to the burn of her skin.
“Shit!” Mars yanks her hands from the steaming flow of water.
Her hands are puckered pink, the meat of her palms an uncomfortable red. Her fingers cry when she bends them to twist the water off, then shoving them into a fluffy towel.
So much for not feeling anything.
There’s a knock at the door. Mars whips her head in its direction, and she holds her breath.
“Mars? Is everything okay in there?”
It’s Dustin.
Mars’ voice catches, tongue struggling to find words. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Can you come out of Mike’s bathroom? This girl is kind of creeping us out.”
Mars is opening the door, slowly moving to look at the boy waiting on the other side.
Her cousin is staring up at her. He’s still sopping from the rain, golden brown curls dripping wet.
‘This girl,’ he’d said.
Eleven. Hair buzzed and body small, chocolate eyes wide like saucers.
A drop of water travels down Mars’ spine and sends her back to the forest. Reminding her of the dark and the damp; the lightning and the shadows; the tree roots and the mud; the fear. Eleven clinging so tightly to Mars at the crash of thunder, the older girl lifting the younger over fallen logs. The rain unrelenting upon the two, soaking and blinding them with sideways wind. Mars only knew to keep running, only halting when spotting three shining lights far in the trees.
“Mars?” Dustin quirks a brow at his cousin.
She pushes the memory away with a shake of her head, and steps out into Mike Wheeler’s basement.
It’s packed and cluttered, beloved and busy, and warm lamplight fills the space. The walls are laden with crayon drawings and the floor is littered with boyish figurines. Mars’ eyes immediately fall to the other side of the room, to Eleven. The girl sits on Mike’s couch, small and wrapped in the boy’s coat. She’s heaving deep breaths beneath the intense stares of Lucas and Mike.
“Is there a number we can call? For your parents?” Mike is asking her.
Dustin goes to stand beside him. “What happened to your hair? Do you have cancer?”
“Dustin!” Mars scolds. What a sick—
The boys continue.
“Did you run away?”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Is that blood?” Mike smacks away the hand that Lucas reaches out at Eleven. Mars avoids looking directly at the stain on the girl’s shirt.
“Stop it! You’re freaking her out!” he yells.
“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas yells back.
“I bet she’s deaf!” Dustin’s confidently asserting, hunching over toward Eleven.
Mars yanks him at the ear before he can do anything. “This is not even remotely necessary!”
Dustin flounders, crying ‘ow, ow, ow’ before Mars releases her tight grip on his earlobe.
She takes a deep breath, taking slow steps to Eleven. Mars is facing the boys now, looking down at their shorter statures.
“Please, guys. You’re scaring her!”
Mike’s eyes hadn’t left Eleven. “Are you cold?” He asks, then walking back to a laundry hamper, pulling clothes and coming back to offer them to Eleven. “Here, these are clean. Okay? They’ll warm you up.”
Eleven, eyes wide and searching, looks to Mars.
The older girl nods, motioning for her to take the bundle.
With a tentative hand, Eleven reaches and accepts the dry clothes from Mike’s hand. Mars watches her assess it, then gently rub her little cheek against the fabric in… is it reverence?
Mars is met with an uneasy dip in her stomach. She’d felt it when she’d seen the tattoo on Eleven’s wrist, and even when Benny let that “Social Services” woman into the diner. It’s equal parts her brain and her heart wondering just where this odd girl had come from.
A part of Mars can’t fault the boys for asking so many questions. I have just as many.
And then Eleven’s starting to pull her yellow shirt over her head in front of the boys, and Mars can’t help her eyes widening.
“Nonononono!”
“Whoa, whoa—”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”
Eleven shrinks back at their yelling.
“Wait, wait,” Mars says, far more gently. She’s holding out an open palm. “Why don’t you change in the bathroom, okay?”
“Yes, p-privacy,” Mike affirms.
Eleven stands and walks away from the couch with the change of clothes in her arms, posture small and timid. The bald-headed girl pauses before she’s halfway across the room, and turns back.
“Mars.”
The boys all swivel their heads to look at Eleven. This is the first word they’d heard from her.
Mars only moves to Eleven’s side in response. Hovering near, but not closer than an arm’s length as they both walk across the room fully. Don’t scare her, Marsie.
The smaller girl takes in the sink and the toilet when she steps into the washroom, then Mars moves to place her hand over the doorknob.
“Hey, I’m going to close this, okay? So you can change.”
Eleven’s spine straightens and she quickly spins to look Mars dead in the eye.
There’s that tickling in the back of her brain, again, feathering and light. The word that comes is like writing on a fogged window, fading quicker than it was written. ‘No.’ Its meaning pools in her gut.
Mars’ brows furrow tightly upon her forehead.
“You… you don’t want it closed?”
Eleven shakes her head. She’s looking up expectantly, a little meek.
“That’s fine. That’s totally okay,” Mars relaxes her face, trying to wipe away the signs of her confusion. “Let’s do this, then. Alright?”
Mars slowly pushes the door closed, still looking into the bathroom at Eleven. It doesn’t shut, Mars creating a largely closed but cracked opening for Eleven to look up at her through.
“Just enough so the boys won’t see, yeah?” Mars tries to give a warm, toothless smile.
It’s Eleven’s turn for her brows to furrow. But she pauses, her shoulders loosening as she looks down at the sweatpants and pullover Mike had handed her.
Mars’ eyes linger on the faded, rust-colored blemish staining Eleven’s collar.
—There’s a 96 ounce can of barbecue sauce striking one man squarely at his temple, a spoon flying at lightspeed into the other’s forehead, and both collapse to the floor—
Eleven’s touching a finger to Mars’ stomach. Her tiny fingertip rests just on the printed image of a double-pattied burger, an American flag posted righteously on top, and “Benny’s Burgers” printed just below. Mars watches as the girl takes back that finger, slowly moving until it rests on her own Benny’s t-shirt, three sizes too large and swallowing her up, and taps twice.
“Benny.” Eleven whispers.
Mars doesn’t know when she stopped breathing.
“I’ll be right out here if you need me.” And Mars peels from the doorway.
There’s no space for her thoughts when she’s striding away from the bathroom, the trio talking animatedly.
“Mars, is she a psycho?”
“Like from Pennhurst?” Lucas adds, umber forehead wrinkled by brows raised with curiosity.
Mike questions, “From where?”
“The nuthouse in Kerley county.”
“What?” Mars blinks, stunned, standing back among the smaller teens. “No!”
“That would explain her shaved hair and why she’s so crazy!”
“Lucas, she is not crazy!” Mars reprimands. She’s clenching her fists tightly at her sides and a familiar pounding echoes behind her eyes. “She’s exhausted and she’s—”
“—Like Michael Myers.”
“Dustin!”
“Exactly! We should’ve never brought her here!”
“And just leave her and Mars out in that storm?” Mike admonishes.
“Yes! We went out to find Will, not more problems.”
“Boys, enough with—”
“We should tell your mom, Mike.” Pound.
“I second that.”
“Who’s crazy now!” Mike retorts to both Dustin and Lucas.
“How is that crazy?”
“Because none of us were supposed to be out tonight. Not you, me, Mike, or Dustin,” Mars cuts in. She looks between her cousin and his friend. “If we tell Karen, she’ll go straight to Sue and then Claudia—”
“Oh, man.” Dustin’s hands go up to his curly-haired head. Pound.
“Our houses become Alcatraz,” Lucas relents.
Mike gives a nod, relief at their understanding painted on his freckled face. “Exactly. Then we’ll never find Will.”
Mars massages her temples. It’s like there’s a fucking hammer striking away are her skull, and Mars’ eardrums are thrumming.
“Why were you out, anyway?” Dustin’s crossing his arms, looking at Mars with a tilted head. “You weren’t looking for Will, were you?” Pound.
‘Smile looks good on you.’
“She knows your name. Where’d you even find her?” Pound.
‘You girls just sit tight. Whoever it is, I’ll tell ‘em to go away real quick, alright?’
“Did you go to Benny’s? You’re both wearing his shirts.” Pound.
‘Sorry, again, for trying to turn you away there.’
Pound.
“Please, just shut up,” Mars grits out, palming her eyes. Blood pumps in her ears to the tune of a skipping heart.
“Mars?” Pound.
‘Kid, this is Mars… She works with me, she ain’t going to hurt you.’
Pound. Strike.
And then Benny’s letting a woman in…The hair on the back of Mars’ neck stands straight up at the sight of her
Pound. Strike.
A dam is about to burst.
Panic’s gripping Mars by the lungs and a sob threatens to tear from her chest. Her palms press deeper, sending starbursts against her eyelids and trying to soothe the pain in her head fruitlessly.
Don’t think about him, don’t think about him, don’t think about—
A flash of wide, petrified eyes blink across her vision.
Eleven glances between Mars and Benny and gives another smile. It’s perfectly warm and Mars has grown fond of it, she thinks.
“Mars?” Breaks through the fog blanketing Mars’ brain.
A deep breath shivers from her lips.
Dustin questions once more, “How did you end up in the woods where Will went missing?”
…A knock sounds from the front door. Eleven’s breathing picks up again, and Mars wonders what happened to make her this way.
Mars drops her hands to her sides and begins to pick at an angry cuticle. Hot tears prickle at her eyes, but an inhale calms the bite.
‘Connie Frasier, Social Services.’
A similar dread straightens Mars’ spine. Pressure releases from her lungs with an exhale. Her eyes dart up, flitting between the three sets of boyish confusion, gaze no longer empty.
She turns over her left wrist, and Mars leans close to read the ink on her skin.
011. Eleven.
“I can’t tell you.”
Mars is met with visible bewilderment.
“What? What does that even mean?”
‘Are you scared of them?’ Mars tries to get Eleven’s attention, but the girl is frozen to her seat on the counter.
There’s a familiar guilt Mars feels that swims up her throat and stabs at her sternum.
“It means I can’t—” won’t, “tell you what happened.”
Lightning flashes through a tiny window far up the basement wall, quickly followed by an earsplitting crash of thunder.
“Great, they’re both psychos.”
Mike groans. “Lucas!”
“Why?” Dustin asks, brows skyrocketing up his forehead. “Why can’t you tell us? ‘Cause you’ll get in trouble with Mom?”
Of all the things Mars has forgotten, she wishes this could be one of them.
“No, Dustin. This is…” painful, guilt-inducing, “embarrassing, but…”
The trio looks at her expectantly.
“I forgot.”
“What?”
“You forgot?”
“I can’t remember what happened between leaving the house and finding Pint-Sized in those woods.”
“Pint-Sized?”
“I gave her a nickname.”
“So you don’t know where she came from?”
“Obviously not,” Mars huffs, fingers twitching at her side. Technically, not a lie.
“Mars, you forget where you left your shoes and the due dates for homework assignments. Not,” Dustin waves his arms at the teen girl, “whatever this is.”
“Believe me, Dustin, I’m not exactly thrilled.” A subdued ache in her forehead refreshes a recent image. “I think it has something to do with me blacking out last night.”
“Okay, so we don’t know where she came from and we can’t tell our parents,” Mike redirects. “I have a plan.”
Mars tries to dampen her sigh of relief when the other two boys completely shift their focus away from her, wiping away a drop of water that decides then to trickle down her jaw.
“Alright. She sleeps here tonight.”
Dustin’s eyes nearly fall out with how wide he opens them. “You’re letting a girl—”
“Just listen, okay? In the morning, she can sneak around my house, go to the front door and ring my doorbell. My mom will answer and she’ll know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst, or wherever she comes from, and it’ll be like tonight never happened.”
Like tonight never happened.
Mars glances to the bathroom door, still cracked open and quiet within.
A flame lights in Mars’ belly. It’s hot, rearing and bright inside of her. And it purges any doubts she may have had.
“No,” she says, firmly and resolute.
The boys look to her, Mike knitting his brows together.
“No parents. At least, not yet.” She crosses her arms against her chest.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that the little girl in there is terrified of us. Us. Kids! What makes you think adults will be any better for her?”
“Well, us kids can’t exactly do anything without risking lockdown,” Lucas throws.
“You won’t be doing anything. I will. Well, mostly.”
“Mostly?” Dustin questions.
“Mike’s first idea is great. I agree.”
“Oh, c’mon—”
“Dustin, I’m serious. Can you think of any alternative?”
He looks at both of his friends. When they say nothing, he throws up his hands in a shrug.
“Exactly. And I’m staying with her.”
“What?”
“And I try to find a way to help her, without getting our parents involved.”
Dustin’s voice cracks under the weight of his words. “What about Mom? She’ll know something’s wrong when you’re not home in the morning.”
Mars blinks. She hadn’t thought of that. The eldest teen lifts a hand to her chin as she racks her brain for an idea. C’mon, it can’t be completely hollow up here!
Well, she’s in the Wheeler house. She could lie to Claudia and say she’s sleeping over with Nancy? No. Her and Nancy hardly speak to one another, but Karen and Claudia definitely do. Their mom-noses are honed to sniff out bullshit like that. And, besides, Nancy isn’t the type to break rules. She’s clean-cut, studious, and wholesome—
And dating Steve Harrington.
Forget a lightbulb, it’s like fireworks go off in Mars’ head. I’m a fucking genius.
“Tell her I went to school with Steve!”
Dustin’s jaw practically unhinges with shock. “S-steve—”
“Steve Harrington?” Mike cuts, dumbfounded.
“We’re partners in El Din’s Literature class. He called the house yesterday to talk about it.”
“That asshole has our phone number?”
Mars rolls her eyes, “Hear me out: Auntie Claudia knows about our project already, yeah? And knows Steve from the phone. In the morning, you just tell her he already picked me up for school, and we don’t have to worry about her finding out I actually spent the night in this basement with a girl we found in the woods.”
The girl catches her breath, gauging the reactions of the boys in front of her. Dustin’s still toothlessly gawking at her, somewhat, but shows thoughtfulness in the way his eyes search her face.
“And if we get caught?” Lucas asks.
“We don’t,” Mike assures. Mars nods in agreement.
Dustin moves to adjust the brim of his cap. “This is mental.”
“We follow this plan,” Mike says, and six pairs of eyes focus on him, “And it’s like tonight never happened. Then tomorrow night, we go back out.
“And this time, we find Will.”
“Got it.” Mars says, with finality.
And the bathroom door creaks open, revealing Eleven changed into Mike’s clothes. The navy pullover and gray sweatpants are baggy, but not large on the girl’s slight frame. She’s crumpled the yellow Burgers tee in her hands, running her round eyes over the teens across the room.
Mike doesn’t hesitate to move and meet Eleven, leaving Mars to watch the pale, dark-haired boy softly reach for the soaked garment.
“C’mon, Dustin,” Lucas calls, quietly as he begins up the basement stairs.
Dustin follows, watching his friend and the bald-headed girl from over the handrail. Mars looks up at him from where he stands.
“You really think she’s a psycho?” the curly-headed boy asks.
Lucas shakes his head, staring along with his friend of a paler complexion. “I wouldn’t want her in my house.”
They move to leave, but Mars stops them.
“Boys,” she says, sincere. “Be safe, okay?” When her eyes fall on her cousin, she swallows down the smallest want of confession.
Lucas just mumbles a “yeah” in response, leaving the basement. Dustin looks back at her with confusion, like she’d said something odd, and nods lazily.
Mars sighs. “Tell Claudia I love her in the morning, will ya?”
At this, Dustin smiles a bit and rolls his eyes. He’s stomping up the stairs when he says back, “And I thought this day couldn’t get any more mental.”
Then he’s gone, leaving only three.
When Mars turns to look back at the younger kids behind her, Mike has begun tossing blankets over the backs of chairs and throwing pillows and a sleeping bag beneath the new canopy.
The older girl squints, and Eleven watches over the boy’s shoulder. A pillow fort?
Mike’s moving with purpose, fluffing up the bed he’s built and testing how easily the blankets cover up the cottony alcove. He looks proud when he stands back to look at it, hands on his hips.
“Alright, you both can sleep here!”
Mars hums. And then she cringes when her shoes squelch loudly as she moves to appraise Mike’s creation. Yep, sleeping soggy tonight. Mars sits on the ground to pull off the soaked canvas of her sneakers, and then her damp socks. She frowns at the sight of her pruney toes.
“I know Mars calls you Pint-Sized,” Mike says, pointed toward the small girl at his side. Eleven’s running her fingers over a padded quilt. “But do you have a name?”
The girl drops her right hand to the sleeve of her left, pulling it back. Mike gapes as Eleven reveals the numbers inked into her wrist to him.
He moves to look closer, but Eleven pulls back her arm.
“Mike—” Mars goes to scold.
“Sorry,” he quickly says, stepping back. “I’ve just… never seen a kid with a tattoo before.” He manages an apologetic smile. Eleven just stares her watchful eyes straight back at him.
“What does it mean? ‘011?’” He asks.
“It’s her name, Mike.” Mars says, quietly. Underneath her tongue is bitter awareness.
“It is?”
Eleven nods.
“Um, well, my name’s Mike. Short for Michael. And you know, Mars, but I don’t think her name is short for anything.”
The eldest in the room faintly smiles along.
“Maybe,” Mike suggests, “We can call you ‘El.’ Short for Eleven.”
Eleven—El—gives an intent nod. There’s a burst of fondness beneath Mars’ breastbone at the sight.
“Um, well—”
The boy does a double take, as if he’d remembered something. He looks up at Mars and blurts, “Do you need clothes, too?”
Mars blinks, and stares down at the denim of her jeans, pale blue now deep navy with wet. And there’s still the damp of her t-shirt. A twinge aches in her heart at the sight of yellow.
“What have you got?”
✦✧✦✧✦✧
Mars is standing next to Mike, hunched over and eyes searching in the dark. The boy had led her upstairs to the second floor, creeping through the living room and up the staircase as quietly as they could. It hadn’t been too difficult, not with the storm and Ted Wheeler ripping snores like a chainsaw in his La-Z Boy. Where the challenge lied was in Karen Wheeler.
Karen’s a mom with a capital ‘M.’ Her senses are trained to detect the slightest disturbance in her home, and the slightest noise would wake her. So Mike and Mars needed to be stealthy.
On the second floor of the Wheeler house were four bedrooms, one for each of the children and a primary for their parents. The landing at the top of the stairs looped around by the guardrail, and the two shadows needed to cut by the single white door that hid their downfall.
At the top of the stairs, Mars watches Mike take one step in front of his mother’s bedroom. He’s slow, careful to move heel then toe on the blue carpet lining this floor of the house. It helped to muffle his movements, but Mike had been clear that they couldn’t rely on carpet alone to get past Karen. When he completes his step, he waits. It’s only a moment, but it’s packed with trepidation as anxiety licks at Mars’ ribcage. His ear is tilted in an effort to pick up any noise that may alert them to being caught.
Mars releases a breath, not too loudly, when Mike turns to hug the railing and walks slowly closer from where the older girl is crouched. From across the landing, Mike makes eye contact and nods, holding a finger to his lips.
My turn.
With a bare foot, Mars slowly lowers her right heel onto the plush of the carpet. And even slower, she then allows the rest of her foot to fall with it. She holds onto the railing beside her with knuckles gripping white and allows her weight to rest on her right leg.
There’s the pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof, and a bolt of lightning brightens up the darkness of the room.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississipi—
Thunder rolls exactly three seconds after, and Mars quickly but carefully takes her second step off the staircase while under the noisy cover. And she takes the opportunity to wait, just as Mike did, left ear to Karen’s bedroom door. If the woman is awake, Mars can’t hear her over the rain. And if Mars couldn’t hear Karen, hopefully Karen couldn’t hear Mars.
Then she’s sneaking after Mike, quietly letting out a relieved sigh when they both come to stand in front of another door. Presumably Nancy’s, by the way Mike presses his ear against it. His face is upturned in focus, the hair on his forehead still wet from the night’s excursion.
He must have heard something, from the way he flinches back like he’d been burned. Boyish disgust is evident in his eyes. What the hell?
Mars looks at him questioningly, compensating for their silence with one exaggerated brow movement. From where she stands, she can hear the lilt of music whispering through the wall.
Mike only shakes his head and sets back his shoulders, like he’s preparing for something. Then he raises up his knuckles to the painted white wood, and he knocks.
“Nancy?” Mike whispers. “Nancy, it’s Mike.”
There’s a beat with no response, only melodic noise creeping from beneath Nancy’s door.
Mike whispers a bit louder, closer to the door this time, “Nancy if you don’t open up I’m telling Mom that Steve snuck in!”
What the fuck? Harrington’s here?
Mars’ heart does a front flip, and then her stomach flips the opposite direction while she connects the dots. Steve Harrington was in Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom.
But she doesn’t have long to dwell on her jealousy—she wouldn’t call it jealousy, really, more like a sudden realization that a boy she knows probably has sex with a girl she knows and the image is actually repulsive and everyone’s repulsed by the idea of Steve Harrington having sex with another girl, right? Wait, no, not another girl, just any girl in general. Shit. Fuck, shut up, brain!—when a definitive thump comes from within Nancy’s room.
Then there’s another thump, though quieter, and even softer the sounds of footfalls. Mars pictures on the other side of the wall two teens frantically throwing their clothes on, then running to kick Steve out the window.
It makes her nauseous.
The image is dispelled when the door opens, letting warm light flood into the hall.
Nancy Wheeler stands in the doorway, eyes hot with a glare aimed at her little brother’s head. If looks could kill, Mike would be very, very dead.
Also, Nancy is quite clothed, buttoned shirt and ankle-length skirt primly pressed, if only minutely wrinkled. Her pretty hair maybe has a few strands out of place, but it’s not messy. But it’s not like Mars cares, or anything.
“What the hell, Mike?” Nancy Wheeler whispers, words dripping with barbs, and continues her hostile staring.
Mike doesn’t falter underneath the pressure. “‘What the hell’ Nancy?” his words echo, then he continues before his sister can swipe back, “We need your help.”
There’s a frustrated confusion that passes over Nancy’s face, and then she finally sees Mars.
An electrified tether connects the two girls’ eyes. It’s heat, simmering blue cutting at silent brown. It fizzles out with a whimper when Mars drops the connection, pushing a dripping curl behind her ear.
“Mars?” Nancy’s asking, less sharp. Not dulled, but no longer spitting cuts.
And it’s a little loud in Nancy’s surprise.
The three of them freeze, whipping their heads straight to where the reckoning of their collective nightmares could emerge.
There’s no movement in the dark corner of the hall, only the emergence of pointed shadows when another flash of lightning lights up the green, flowery wallpaper lining the walls. The white door to Karen’s bedroom doesn’t open.
Mars untightens her clenched hands. Then fingers are wrapping around her wrist.
“Get in here,” Nancy urges, pulling Mars into her room and gesturing at Mike to do the same.
Mars doesn’t know what she expects when she’s scanning over Nancy’s room. Maybe signs of romantic mischief—whatever the hell that means, it’s not as if I’d know anything about romantic anything—or even a half-naked Harrington rushing to escape.
Don’t imagine it, don’t even think about it—
Nancy’s closing the door behind them, taking care to shut it quietly with another rumble of thunder, moves across the room to stand in front of her closet.
Steve’s not there.
He’s nowhere to be seen as Mars takes in Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom. It’s perfectly girlish, Mars thinks, with its striped, pink walls and the dainty white furniture covered in sentimental items. Posters of Blondie and Tom Cruise hang over her nightstands, and a desk littered with the effects of Nancy’s high school career and a small stereo playing Madonna sits under cork boards of beloved photographs and detailed calendar dates. Pictures of her best friend, Barbara Holland, are plentiful. There’s a messy corner of the room where her closet is, closed with loose clothes laying forgotten on the floor near the slatted doors. But no Harrington.
Mars feels relief pour over her much like the monsoon outside.
“You both are soaked! Tell me why I shouldn’t call for Mom right now,” Nancy asks lowly, eyes darting between the other girl and her brother.
“Please,” Mike scoffs quietly, “you would have already ratted us out if you weren’t also sneaking around.”
Nancy frowns, and Mars traces the splattering of freckles beneath her lips and along her jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw Steve climbing through the window!”
“What, when you snuck out?” Nancy crosses her arms over her chest.
“Yeah! But while you were busy sucking face, all of us were out searching for Will!”
Nancy hones in on Mars. “‘All of you?’”
“So, you don’t deny it,” Mike continues, “You don’t deny that you snuck in Steve Harrington through your window.”
“Nothing happened, Mike, we were just studying!”
“That won’t matter if Mom finds out.” Mike crosses his arms next.
Mars can’t help but feel she’s watching a tennis match with the way her head’s swiveling to look back and forth between the siblings.
“And you’re going to snitch? Is that it?”
Mike shakes his head. “Like I said, we need help.”
“You,” Nancy raises a finely tailored brow, “need help. From me.”
“And in exchange, I don’t tell mom about your little ‘study session.’”
“You’re blackmailing me!” Nancy’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink.
“Nance, neither of us can afford to be grounded for the rest of our lives. Just do this for us and I’ll take it to my grave.”
Nancy rolls her eyes with a shake of her head. “Do what exactly?”
Mike’s standing a bit taller now. “Mars can’t go home tonight. She needs clothes.”
Nancy whips her head back to Mars. Nancy’s eyes aren’t as cold when she looks the girl up and down. “Why can’t you go home? What about Dustin?”
Mike moves to pivot, but Mars still responds, “Dustin’s fine, but, um, it’s kind of not safe.” She avoids Nancy’s analyzing stare.
The blue-eyed girl turns her face in more confusion.
“She hit her head in the woods. It’s a long walk to her house and instead of getting help and exposing our search party,” Mike weaves, “she’s going to sleep it off in our basement.”
Nancy looks back and forth between them. “Why not just tell your aunt and make up a lie about where you were?”
“Because it’s happened before,” Mars twists. She looks shyly up at Nancy. “I pass out and hours go by where I can’t remember anything. Claudia will freak if I tell her, okay? And I’ll be on overwatch for weeks.”
There’s a moment where Nancy’s eyes furrow, and she searches Mars’ eyes for any deception. It’s no longer a hot outpour of sizzling emotion, no more buzzing cord, but a battering of ocean-blue waves up against earthy rock, searching for weakness.
They tear apart when Nancy turns back to her little brother. “And why risk it? You’re in deep shit, Mike, if you get caught!”
“Like you said, Nancy,” Mike stares his sister dead in the eye, “you were just studying. And I’m just helping out a friend.”
Forty love to Mike Wheeler!
Nancy doesn’t throw anything back, just huffs and drops her hands to her sides, and Mike looks to Mars to give a victorious nod.
Mars opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a thump and the rustling of coat hangers followed by the sound of things hitting the ground. “Shit!” comes crying out in a badly hushed tone, and Mars knows what’s in Nancy Wheeler’s closet.
Or rather, who.
Nancy freezes, eyes going cartoonishly wide. Mike gawks at his sister with stupefaction.
“He’s still here?” he asks, jaw hinging.
“No! It’s just, um—” Nancy’s met by the raised brows of both her brother and Mars. “Damnit!”
Then the closet doors open with a quick move from Nancy, stuffed animals and other knick knacks coming tumbling out softly onto her bedroom floor. From where Mars stands on the opposite side of the room, she spies the hunched figure of Steve Harrington rubbing at his head from his place among hanging clothes.
He reels when he realizes he’s no longer hidden, flashing a bashful smile that falters when he sees Nancy’s exasperated expression. “Oops?”
Mike huffs from his spot next to Mars, and she watches Steve shuffle out from his cramped hiding spot.
His stupid hair is disheveled and mussed, breaking out of its typical prim styling. He’s still wearing that damn striped polo from earlier at school, Mars thinks, the boy didn’t even dress up for his study date.
“Pleasure to meet you officially, Mike,” Steve says, hands on his hips as he stands beside Nancy. His eyes fall on Mars next. “Henderson, crazy meeting you here!”
“Steve.” Nancy hisses.
He takes the hint. “Yep. I’ll just, uh—” he starts for Nancy’s window, pulling up the sash within a beat.
“Wait!”
Steve hesitates, looking over his shoulder as he leans to climb onto the roof. Nancy and Mike mirror him, turning their attention to the girl in damp yellow.
Mars swallows the sudden bubbling of nervousness in her throat, restless beneath their gazes. “Don’t forget your jacket,” she says, looking at a black leather bunch peeking out amongst the feminine trinkets near Nancy’s feet. “It’s raining.”
Kill me now! Mars ought to smack herself. ‘It’s raining?’ You’re such a fucking doofus.
In Mars’ internal screaming, Nancy bends to collect Steve’s biker jacket from the floor, shoving it into the boy’s chest with firmness when he turns back into the room.
“Yeah, Steve,” Mike jabs, “wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”
Nancy sends over a nasty glare in response.
Steve pulls his arms through his jacket sleeves, yanking forward the collar to cover up the pale of his freckled neck. It’s not as frenzied as his movements to leave had been, settling into the leather. He then glances from Nancy to Mars.
Their eyes meet. For the third time today. And it’s nothing like the sharp vibration Nancy’s glares had sent. This connection is the epitome of warmth, honeyed and tacky, drawing Mars in and threatening to trap her within. There’s a feeling of déjà vu when a feather touch of words brushes over the forefront of her mind, ‘holy shit’ and the subsequent ghost of artificial cherry emerging on her tongue.
Fucking lip balm.
“Thanks,” Steve says. He’s frozen for a moment, blinking away his stare, then crawling in a disjointed effort out of the window and into the rain. “See you tomorrow, Nance,” he calls as he’s fleeing.
Nancy doesn’t wait to shut the window behind him.
The scent of the storm had made its way into the bedroom by then, prompting a shiver down Mars’ spine. She wraps her arms around herself then, trying to soothe the shift from nervousness to disquiet in her chest.
Mike is now looking at Nancy expectantly. “So, will you help us, ‘Nance?’”
His sister’s cheeks are such a flaming shade of pink, Mars worries about Nancy’s blood pressure.
The girl shuts her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, gesturing her hands in mediation. When her eyes open, she says to the two other teens, “And this stays between us?”
Mike and Mars look to one another, a quiet agreement passing between them. They both spin their heads back to Nancy, giving eager nods in affirmation.
Nancy sighs. There’s a moment when her eyes take in Mars’ frame then looking into her closet, a bit pensive beneath her lingering blush.
“I have a few things of Barb’s,” Nancy says, “that should fit you. You share similar… assets.”
It’s Mars’ turn to blush, involuntarily zoning in on Nancy’s significantly smaller breasts and, well everything.
“Eugh,” Mike groans, moving back to the door, his hand resting on the knob. “Please don’t talk about your ‘assets.’”
Nancy rolls her eyes, pulling a pink, cotton blouse from the pool of discarded clothes on her floor, then moving to her dresser to draw out a pair of yellow, satiny pajama pants.
“Here.” She holds out both items to Mars. “You can give them back to me at school tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Mars’ thoughts immediately travel back to the little girl currently laying in the basement. Who she’d promised herself she wouldn’t leave.
“Y-yeah, totally,” Mars sputters out, taking the dry garments into her hands, both pale against her deep, swarthy skin. “Thanks.”
And this time, when guilt threatens to cut at Mars’ sternum and claw up her throat, she wishes it away.
There’s no time to feel guilty, she tells herself, not for this.
Not for Eleven.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x oc#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#fanfiction#oc fanfiction#autism coded
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And it was all yellow
i missed the actual day one which means ill be posting two little drabbles today to celebrate mileven week! i dont plan on making them long, just short little things that are easy to push out since my mind can only process so much. i had a few different ways of writing this and i might still do it as an extra one but we'll see. enjoy! as always, cross-posted on ao3 (WubADubDub)
Summary: He was her yellow, and she would be the matching purple so to always move along and go with him no matter what.
Yellow marigolds and purple poppies up the large field in Hawkins blowing in the gentle wind that caressed El's face softly and skewed her vision with her long brown strands. The sky was a blue so light it felt blinding as she shaded her eyes with her hand, feeling an instinctual squeeze from her ever so attentive boyfriend, looking over at him and being unsurprised to see his gaze already locked on her. His dark chocolate hair was so pretty against his pale and freckled face, against his bright yellow shirt with dark orange horizontal stripes and brown shorts. The colors of it all contrasting against her pinned back, lighter caramel and deep purple floral sweater dress with her own matching black shorts. They planned for a special picnic amongst the flowers blooming in her favorite hues to celebrate her cop dad relinquishing some restrictions they've eagerly waited to break.
She doesn't remember when purple became one of her favorite colors, perhaps she just realized how nicely the color matched the other—yellow.
That one was easy to pinpoint. When she goes back to the day she escaped, something that crosses her mind fairly often, honestly, she knows exactly what she was wearing. Yellow. Just yellow. And him, his striped shirt and beige raincoat that he gave to her so quickly upon their meeting in that pouring rain. Yellow seemed to be her lucky color, and it was bright and happy and when El saw it she was brought back to that rainy night when she met him, to the fort he built for her in his basement where the lights were a shade of yellow and to the first Eggo waffle he had handed her to give her something to eat.
She looked at him now and flashbacks popped through her head, and she smiled at him and leaned in for a kiss.
When she pulled away, she was, of course, met with a "What was that for?" from the ever-so-curious boy beside her and she giggled and shrugged.
"You had something on your mouth," she settled for, even though it made no sense, and she knew that, but she also knew that he knew she knew that, so she he just laughed it off with her and pointed at a spot to settle down. One with less flowers for them to crush when they placed down their red and white checked blanket to be sat upon with their brown woven basket, simple sandwiches and carbonated drinks contained within.
As they sat upon the sheet on the vibrant green grass, the technicolor of all that surrounded her, the petals, the open field, the clouds up high and the shining light amongst them, El shut her eyes and soaked it all in, holding Mike's warm hand that whose thumb stroked the side of hers, she let herself feel that yellow, that glee that came when she was within Mike's presence or him on her mind. He was her yellow, and she would be the matching purple so to always move along and go with him no matter what.
#mileven fanfic#mileven#mileven au#mike x el#mike x eleven#el x mike#eleven x mike#mileven fic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#mi escrito#milevenweek#mileven week#mileven week 2022#milevenweek 2022#milevenweek2022
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It was still dark out when No. 258 — no, when Chuuya woke up. He peeked out of the window of his room & saw the sun wasn’t even yet on the horizon, there was a good two HOURS left before morning would come. That should give him enough time to prepare everything, he hoped. It had been a few months now since Rimbaud had taken him from the Port Mafia & brought him to meet Verlaine. His older brother, apparently. That information had been DIFFICULT for the boy to wrap his head around; that he had people he cared about now. A family. He wasn’t supposed to, weapons were created after all, not born. But for all that the scientists in the facility had beaten it into him that he was no more than a tool, a thing to obey orders or be stored away when he wasn’t needed & nothing more, the two former spies seemed to see things differently.
Verlaine had told Chuuya things about his own past, horrible things, & it made the young, former experiment realize that he wasn’t alone. At least, he didn’t have to be. He had a friend now, Dazai, & these two Europeans who had given him a chance to be something else... was this what it meant to have a FAMILY? They’d been patient with him, more than that. Being free was liberating... but it was also incredibly overwhelming & frightening. They’d been nothing but kind to him, though, & the redhead... he found himself wanting to do something nice for them, to show he cared too even if it was difficult for him to voice such feelings.
Chuuya thought about his reoccurring nightmares, the panic attacks, the days he struggled to even speak out loud. He knew Verlaine was still angry with Rimbaud, but the fact both of them had put aside their grievances to help him? Everything they’d done for him... Verlaine had even given him a NAME, something that was his alone, & that meant everything. He knew there wasn’t much he could do, he was still just a child technically, & not one that yet knew how to navigate the world around him. But maybe there was something he could try... Taking a deep breath, Chuuya surveyed the kitchen of the house they were staying in & narrowed his eyes, he had WORK to do.
By the time the two ex-spies had woken up & come downstairs, they would be greeted to a most unusual sight; the table was set with an embroidered red & gold tablecloth he’d found up in one of the cupboards. Silverware had been painstakingly set out at three separate seats. There was also the food. The table was laid out with an assortment of plates displaying STRIKINGLY familiar dishes; la tartine — fresh sliced bread with butter, honey & various jam spreads, pastries, chocolate croissants, sliced fresh fruit & cheeses, eggs en cocotte... with a pot of café au lait & glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice, rather than the traditional green tea that was preferred in Japan. The entire meal was decidedly FRENCH.
Standing there, the young teenager had his hands clasped behind his back with a NERVOUS smile on his face, bright blue eyes shining with a difficult to read emotion. ❝ I, uh... I know I’ve been... difficult. ❞ he said carefully, for his verbal communication skills were still quite new, & he wasn’t very confident with them yet. ❝ But I am very... um.. GRATEFUL for... everything you both have done for me. I wanted to do something nice & this was the only thing I could think of. You’re both from France, right? I thought... since it’s been so long, you might feel... homesick? ❞ He ducked his head as his cheeks turned pink, his bangs falling into his eyes. ❝ I-I made everything myself! I thought we could eat together... if you wanted. It’s not... much, but I hope you’ll like it anyways. ❞
Rimbaud opened his mouth to speak, & promptly closed it again, glancing at Verlaine. The dark-haired man found himself speechless.
• ─────⋅☾ VERLAINE / @darknesstrayed ☽⋅───── •
#;; Crying over my feels for these three now#VERSE V || Once You Are Real You Can’t Be Ugly; Except To People Who Don’t Understand { FIFTEEN AU }#darknesstrayed
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Confront The Blizzarding Mountain
Words: 1.1k
Warnings: Violence, gore, attached illustration containing these, body horror
Fic below the cut
There was an icy cold wind blowing through his hair, past his ears, making a high pitch howling. Chandlo did not let the shrill screams of a mountain so high discourage him, no, he embraced them as a sound and sign as he scaled the mountain. He saw sparks of lightning shoot through the bushels of clouds, hailed by storm and heavy with water, the weather as angry as the mountain.
He saw chunks of rock and ice fly down the mountainside, the terrain quaking with a deep-rooted force, as though angered. Anger was a constant, though; the creature large enough to shake the earth was filled with either a passionate rage, or a torrential fear. With boots on his back paws, gloves on his front paws, and ice picks in his hands, Chandlo did not turn away from the vicious mountain. Nothing would keep him from… him.
But as he reached the Frosted Peak, he realized that the storm was far worse than he thought. Even with a lantern attached to his backpack, he could barely see around, the shroud of clouds blocking out all sunlight. It was like a dark mist had enveloped the peak, and he felt like he knew what it’d take to calm it down.
He finally got to the top, or, close to it. There was not the singing of Chilly Nilly’s, or the sweet songs of a Sodie… There was only the howling of the wind. “Snorpy?” He called out, stepping forward. His light was barely a circle around him, leaving most of its usual range wrapped in darkness.
With instinctive steps, Chandlo walked forward, eyes darting around the mountain. He knew vaguely what the layout was like, and knew how not to fall off the edge, but there was a worry on its own. There were only two things on that mountain: Chandlo, and a monster several times his size, that he wouldn’t be able to see until it was close to him. But it’d be able to see him from much further away.
The snow crunched under his boots. “Snorpy?” He called again. Walking forward, he found the slope further up the mountain, continuing to get higher up. Finding him was only the first step.
He breathed heavily as he walked up to the cave, entering its treacherous mouth. He felt the air get still as the wind quieted, the cave being… disturbingly quiet. There was an echo with his every footstep, reverberating through the chamber, but that was the only noise.
He watched the ground as he walked; it was all he could do. Beneath him was but snow and ice, no evidence of movement anywhere, until…
“-!” He took in a sharp gasp as a puddle appeared in front of him. “…Chocolate sauce?” He bent down by it, seeing its glow in the light.
Another droplet fell from the ceiling.
“…” Chandlo slowly turned his eyes up, tilting his head. Something was in the cave with him, but far too high up to be within the range of his light. Detaching the light from his backpack, he reached forward and held it up. “Gah-!” The moment he saw a little shine from red wax, it was hurrying away, dropping chunks of packed snow from the ceiling. The ground shook as something ran away faster than it should have, and he couldn’t do anything but drop and curl forward, covering his head.
A chunk of hard snow hit his back, and he tried to ignore it as smaller pieces fell down and around him, splattering onto the ground. “Snorpy!” He looked up, seeing another wax candle leg run by him.
But it was gone as soon as it came. As the cave continued shaking, he grabbed his lantern and booked it, turning around and hurrying out of the cavern. He figured he was just in time when he heard a larger crash behind him, a bigger rock falling from the ceiling. “The whole mountain is gonna come down if I don’t get him!” He cried, only able to hear the mountain come apart behind him.
Standing up, he waved the lantern around. As he hoped, a sign. “Chocolate sauce…” He saw a splattered trail on the ground, leading up the mountain. “Snoooorpy!” He called, running up the slope.
He followed the trail with limited light, hoping to see him again, hoping to find his lover just for a moment- they’d known each other for twenty five years, he had to recognize his face, he had to…
The chocolate got redder.
“-!” He gasped as he noticed the change in color. “Snorpy- ah!”
A shot of thunder and lightning illuminated the mountain. Right in front of him, attached to the side of the wall… Snorpy.
His body was mangled and disheveled to make way for his unnecessary amount of limbs. There were wax legs sprouting from the front of his torso, his chest and abdomen having been halved to make room for the new appendages, which spilled cake filler and blood around. His actual limbs had been replaced with sticky, frosting covered candles, which were melting and held together by thin tendrils. He looked like his face was falling apart, the cake in chunks.
Chandlo realized the chocolate wasn’t blood, it was tears. It made lines down his face and spilled below him, some getting on his now-cake bunny ears, and making him look disordered.
“Snorpy! Snooorpy!” He called up, walking closer to the wall. “Don’t run away, it’s me!” He saw the chocolate falling to the mountainside and dripping down it. There wasn’t a single noise from above him, and he felt like he had a chance. “It’s me, Snorpy! Chandlo! Your boyfriend!” He yelled up.
“…” Not a sound. No tapping of wax on stone and snow, no voices.
He breathed heavily, plunged back into darkness. He wasn’t even sure if he was looking at the right place anymore. “You gotta come back to me, Snorpdawg.” He called. “I-I know the snax are in there, but, I know you’re still there too! Please-“
“AUGH-!”
It all happened so fast. With a flicker of lightning, the monster leaped down, immediately trapping the grumpus beneath him. With a monstrous screech, Chandlo couldn’t take a single breath when a leg was placed on his torso, winding him with the force, and then- teeth. Bared, bold, and made of wax, they dug into his neck, ripping out his throat with a wet squelch in one hard sweep. He was dead without a second moment.
Snorpy let the blood drip down his maw, staring wildly at the wide-eyed body. The lantern fell to the ground and rolled away, plunging them both into darkness. With a wrathful growl, he backed off, letting his leg push down on the corpse and crush it with a visceral crunching.
The mountain was not pacified that night. The monster that lurked at its peak only became wrathful, more and more upset with every second that passed after a life was claimed. And there was a sense of… guilt…
…But he didn’t know why.
#bugsnax#tori’s art tag#tori’s writing tag#Tori’s Month Of Macabre 2022#chandlo funkbun#snorpy fizzlebean
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Lupin III Self Isert Bio
Hello everyone, I made a bio and lore for the new self insert, here you go. Under a read more for your convivence.
Character Bio.
Franchise: Lupin III
Madilyn Elisa Ginger
Age: Late 20’s - Early 30’s
Gender: Female
Height: 5’4
Description: Long haired brunette with dark chocolate eyes, with a braid that peeks over her shoulder, wearing smokey purple/red jewel on her neck, wears a gray undershirt with a purple dress over the top of it and gold bangles around her wrists. Black thigh high socks and red flats.
Powers via jewel: Psychic powers and the ability to levitate objects and people. Healing powers but cannot use them on herself, due to the gems influence (it houses two spirits inside it), using said powers causes her eyes to turn bright red.
It’s told in storybooks and legends about the Raven Queen and her Serpent King husband, their love created two gems, the Eye of the Serpent and the Raven’s Heart. The King’s Eye is the gem embedded into Madilyn’s necklace. Her father whisked her and her sister away from a family crisis after her Mother departed and they were raised in a small country village down in Australia.
Madilyn, unknowing of her family’s real heritage and realizing she has magical gifts, uses them to pursue her love of baking, eventually opening up her own chain of Bakeries called *Whiskers Kisses* after her beloved pet cat Whiskers.
Her elder sister, Magnolia is oddly protective of her younger sister and her Father searching for the lost gem, the Raven’s Heart. She repeats a phrase passed down from their Grandmother, “The thief waxed poetics on how to rescue a fair lady from yonder tower. Seek the tower and you shall be enriched for your entire mortality” Madilyn herself has no idea what that means herself but keeps it tucked away in her mind's eye.
Unbeknownst to her, she’s being followed by a notorious gang looking for riches and she’s the key to getting it. Magnolia ever the dutiful sister found a note stuck to the register at her sisters place of work.
The jewel of the house shall be stolen at this time and this date! Do not worry, no harm shall come to the treasure!
Regards, Lupin III
Signed with that stupid peanut face, the elder sister snatched the note taking it to her Father. He had no choice, he had to hire help and in comes Interpol/ICPO to keep it safe, the great Inspector Zenigata, a charming bumbling old fellow hell bent on capturing Lupin himself.
Without ever knowing the treasure, it is around Madilyn’s neck. Shining ever brightly against the harsh Aussie sun, she is busy opening up the bakery, petting her cat Whiskers and placing him in his giant enrichment room as the small bell that signifies customers entering, she steps downstairs, the scent of flowers, fresh bread and pastries filling the air.
Usual greetings, chat and ordering, she rushes out the back to get to work. Lifting pants, whisks and turning on ovens with her powers, the curtains closed, windows open as she didn’t want anyone seeing her powers and throwing her aside like so many others.
What our poor dear didn’t know as she was busy making sales and having her other girls working the registers, she had no idea a certain fate was waiting for her, in broad daylight.
A man approached through the curtains, in a snap the flying cutlery moving on its own was back to normal, as if all this was done by hand, the man was tall, slightly lanky in frame with sideburns framing his face and a wide grin reaching up to his eyes.
Madilyn, startled upon seeing a complete stranger in her kitchen, praying to a higher power that he did not see the magic she uses. He seemed to be plain; she could see something else in his eyes. Something whimsical, mischievous and a boiling fire deep inside.
“Why are you here?” She speaks, holding a whisk in her hand, as if she were to hit him with it. “You need to leave, this is private property back here, sir.”
“I am afraid I can't do that, little lady.” His voice was somewhat higher than she thought but seemed to match his frame, his face, and that curled grin he wore upon his face. Magnolia was hiding in the back nearby, she was in the middle of a visit, seeing this man enter her establishment, she knew who it was.
She just saw the photo from the Inspector!
“Why not?” said the baker, clad with just her whisk, pointing it at the unassuming man, watching his shoulders vibrate when he chuckles.
“Well you see, my dear, I’m after something. Something important.”
“Important?” She blinked owlishly. That's when she heard it, the click of a gun, eyes peering to the corner to see her sister holding her firearm.
“You need to leave” spoke Magnolia, pushing her sibling behind her back to shield her. Madilyn, afraid and unsure, grabs her sister's shoulder and says ‘Sister! Please let me handle this!” “Can’t do that Lil Sis. That’s Lupin. He’s here for something we have!”
The lanky man bows, as if to give a proper introduction. “Well I was standing right here, I was wondering when the smarter sibling was going to figure it out. Sorry there, dear, but I will have to take when I promised to steal~”
Magnolia, gripping her weapon tighter grits through her teeth.”Yeah, well your Inspector is here and I don’t think you’re gonna leave this time.” “You got Pops in on this? And what does he know about what I’m trying to take hm?”
“More than you probably. Now I said leave!”
Madilyn watched this standoff between her sister and the great thief, he just stood there with his hands in his pockets and a dumb grin on his face. How could this be the grandson of the great Arsene Lupin? He seems so unassuming.
But that’s what got her.
He raises his hands in the air. “Alright ladies, I’ll go….I’ll go….Oh but first-” As if on cue, Magnolia’s gun was shot from her hands, a warning shot not intended to harm or kill and poor Madilyn, in the confusion was swept up in the arms of the thief! In a panic, Magnolia called for help, people in the store front panicked as this man, carrying a full grown woman in his arms ran out the front door.
“N-No! Please take me back!”
“Can’t do that, sorry, I need your help!” “What do you mean MY help?!?!?! And who shot my sister!?!?!”
“Please she’ll be fine.” As if on cue, a small buggy like car pulled up, he tossed her in the back seat, jumped into the front and motioned the driver to speed off. “Where the hell are you taking me?!?!?!”
A book landed into her lap. A book titled The King Serpent's Eye and the Raven Queen’s Heart. She knew this story, Grandmother read it to her all the time.
“See turns out, those gems in that book are real. I tracked them down but they vanished half a century ago. Turns out your family was the last to see them. If we find them, we'll let you go!”
The brunette turned her head to take in her surroundings. Small car, a man next to her with dark hair, looked to be a samurai and the man driving seemed to be wearing a fedora, but all she could see was the back of him and the man talking to her. Lupin.
“All I know is the story, I don’t know anything about any treasure or anything.” She heard a slight deflated sigh. “Look come on sweetheart, you know next to nothing about your family history do you?” Her heart stopped. “My family….? No. I don’t know anything.”
She watched his eyes shine again. That glint she saw. That glimmer.
“How about I tell you?”
She didn’t know at the time but those words would send her off to a great adventure.
Status: Alive.
Occupation: Psychic Thief/Baker
Relationships:
Lupin III
The notorious thief who took her on a quest and adventure to find the treasure of her family history, she found herself falling into the pull that this man has. Seeing her powers, his eyes sparkled, grabbing her by the shoulders and calling her “the greatest treasure”. Feeling this was just a crush as she would be told about his past “flings” and seeing Fujiko Mine crushed her heart piece by piece, preferring to bury those feelings deep inside herself. What she didn’t know was that feelings run deep, and his did.
Like water falling down your back, tapping against your window, the rumble in the storm clouds with promises of things to come, the clear night sky with rain falling upon awnings. It’s exciting, scary but fulfilling. Upon realizing feelings on both sides, they became official.
In Grandma’s Story, his Moniker is The Thief.
Daisuke Jigen.
The right hand and gun of Lupin himself, he was a tough and cold nut to crack. Full of smoke, booze and gunpowder, perhaps it was the hidden soft depths buried under that gruff and scruff that drew her in or the drawl of the deep earthy baritones of his voice. Upon learning about her powers, he is more than welcome to ask questions about it even if it is “supernatural shit”.
She spoke about him, like he was solid foundation, earth, bold and strong. Worn down but not yet ready to, give up quite yet, like the ledge you pull yourself upon, the strong tones under your feet to steady yourself, the warmth upon a fire when you arrive from the cold. It was just one kiss, in the moment it sealed their fates.
In Grandma’s Story, his moniker is The Grizzled Gunman.
Goemon Ishikawa XIII
Madilyn and Goemon became friends during their interactions. She likes the way he speaks, appreciating the bluntness of his nature. She calls him “the wind” as he cuts, blisters yet has an aura of calm to him.
Upon learning of her powers, Goemon wanting her to protect herself, gave her some self defense training lessons however Madilyn exclaims she knows some spells, just not a whole lot as all knowledge came from her Father with the request to keep it secret and not tell a soul. He gives a nod of understanding, much like sand and the wind, they understand.
They are very close friends, citing jealousy from Lupin himself as he (jokingly) believes Goemon is “stealing his treasure”.
His moniker in Grandma’s story is The Stoic Samurai.
Inspector Kōichi Zenigata
The ever bumbling detective/inspector, Madilyn finds him oddly charming in an odd way. She always wonders why he just hasn’t given up his chase but she never has understood men very well due to past relationships. Zenigata is very fond of the young baker wizard but always weary of her as she is with Lupin’s Gang, like he wants to arrest him but like there's this NICE girl here!?!?!?
He’s confused but is always willing to help her if asked.
In Grandma’s story his moniker is The Devoted Paladin.
Fujiko Mine
Ever the lady thief, Fujiko was the one who took Madilyn’s jewel further on into the story, not realizing it didn’t give the holder any powers, she just wanted it for the money. The powers were the benefits but upon realizing it didn’t give her any when she got surrounded by the gang, she tossed it, watching it shine and fall but, strangely it rose back up into its rightful owner's hands.
Ever since that moment, she’s been intrigued by the magical Aussie woman and always asked for the gem during their search for the family treasure, Madilyn refused often citing her to be like velvet, pleasant comfort but then turns rough if not handled correctly. Madilyn saved her life once, it set off the fire inside her and she swore she’d steal her away, romantically of course.
Her moniker in Grandma’s story is The Lady Rogue.
Magnolia Tilly Ginger
Magnolia, Madilyn’s older sister (around her 30’s late 40’s) is a former officer of the law, leaving the force when she saw her partner die in front of her, she swore an oath to keep her sister safe. Being the eldest, she knew what the story of the Serpent King and the Raven Queen was about their family, the current Raven Queen being their departed Mother, she tasked herself to find the missing gem, The Raven Queen’s heart.
She despises law breakers the most and spends the journey trying to save her sister from the arms of Lupin, without seeing the shadows controlling the scenes in the background. She wears her partners, Cassidy, wedding ring around her neck to keep the promise to her family.
In Grandma’s Story, her moniker is The Devoted Knight.
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