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#all social skills out the window
gilfrespecter · 1 year
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I'm gonna go wander around with my dog today
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thequeenofsastiel · 11 months
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I can't stop thinking about Z 🤦‍♀️. I'm starting to feel a little pathetic.
On the plus side, brushing your fingers against those of the person you have a thing for is just as awesome as BL shows make it look 😍
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visenyaism · 19 days
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if pointing out that the age of getting a phone decreasing along with the prevalence of short form video as the dominant form of social media content during the most significant collective educational gap in recent history all of which happened during one of the most significant windows of psychological development in a human lifetime has had a deleterious effect on the attention spans, self-regulation, impulse control, social skills, tech literacy, and actual literacy of zoomers and gen alpha. if pointing out that that is a real and serious problem makes me a boomer and an old crank who has fallen for “kids these days” propaganda someone find me a porch and a rocking chair so i can yell at you to get off my lawn
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strlingsav · 5 months
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Hiiii Sav 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼
Could I request a Ghost x reader trope that's like... love based off forced proximity/ circumstances? Can be in their line of duty, fake marriage, but please get creative🫶🏼 and smut ofc!! Thank you for reading 😸
Hellooo! 🫶🏻
You most definitely can, enjoy!
Closer
– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
— A months-long assignment has landed you in isolation with Ghost.
Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.
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Your usual assignments were done alone. A few weeks, hunkered down in an abandoned site, surviving on MREs, cigarettes, and any alcohol you could find. They were the closest to a vacation you'd ever have, save for the uniform, guns and ammunition.
More often than not, you saved yourself from the warfare and stuck to surveillance. It was your specialty, a skill you'd turned into a career and notably so. John Price himself had requested you for the specially important recon mission, hearing talk from your past contracts about your detailed work.
In the past, you'd not opened yourself up to be recruited to a task force in hopes that you could keep some semblance of a normal life. Once you submerged yourself in your work, that went out the window. So you agreed, flew out to the location, and were dropped on a farm bordering a nearby city, of which Captain Price wanted more information. The rest was classified.
Not long after your arrival, you'd watched an armoured truck pull up the long gravel driveway. The soldier that jumped out, Ghost- as you'd learned to call him, was also assigned to your post. At first, you'd been irritated with Price for neglecting this detail, but once you'd learned that he was quiet and kept to himself, you didn't mind.
And he kept true to that fist impression. The introduction was short, hardly sweet, lacking emotion in his eyes and any effort in his voice. He towered above you, his body like that of a goddamn bear, and it made you nervous to share a house with him.
To say you didn't sleep with your pistol loaded would've been a lie- especially the first few nights alone with him. Of course, he insisted he'd keep to the first floor of the farmhouse, but you didn't trust the worn locks to keep a man his size out.
He took the night watch, often reminding you he had never been able to sleep, and was usually still awake during the day. Occasionally, he'd sneak off and rest for a few minutes, where you'd find him with his legs up on the aged sofa, hand across his face, soft snores on every exhale. It nearly made you smile the first time you saw it.
Your days were filled with quiet. Hours spent with your eyes peering through a pair of binoculars, jotting quick notes in the margins of already-full pages. Dates, times, movement, people, places. All of it, recorded, while Ghost played defence on the balcony, and lent an extra set of eyes.
You grew to enjoy the quiet. The deliberate looks while you passed each other, the knowing glances when you'd settle by the fireplace and eat your ready-made meals together. It was a silent routine that you'd perfected within the last few months. You eventually found yourself leaving the doors unlocked, putting away your pistol while you slept.
You began to nearly read each others' minds. Smooth, seamless interactions that made everyday pass with ease. Ghost was beginning to grow on you- the calming presence he offered, the endearing, mindless conversations that took place behind a bottle of bourbon. He even had a sense of humour- fucked as it was.
He was always willing to talk, to endure your mindless chatting every once-in-a-while. You'd not had an assignment with anyone else in a long time, and though your social skills were somewhat lacking, you could see Ghost becoming more comfortable. He enjoyed himself, actually.
"Price never told me, is this your first surveillance assignment?" You asked, setting the bourbon down on the table between you.
He shook his head, the skull staring back at you becoming a bit blurry under the influence. "Been other places before. Mostly infiltration, extraction, target searches, but not my first."
You sat back in your seat, your pyjama bottoms a laughable contrast to Ghost, who still sat in his uniform. You didn't think you'd seen him change, or whether he even owned civilian clothing.
You weren't usually so lax- didn't usually let your guard down after only a few months, but Ghost seemed to lure you in. You hoped it wouldn't prove to be a mistake.
"I do this a lot. Mostly alone," You replied, watching him intently as he lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a swig.
"Guess my bein' here throws you off, then." He swallowed.
"Not at all," You shook your head, your eyes watching him closely. "It's been surprisingly pleasant. I'm not as lonely as I usually am."
His gaze softened, acknowledging your compliment with a short nod. In truth, he'd grown fond of you too. Your little quirks, your sense of humour, even the way in which you organized yourself and your things day-to-day. Your appearance was just a perk. You hadn't caught him watching you, yet- he was sure you'd go back to locking your door if you had.
His watching wasn't entirely innocent, either. He'd catch glimpses of your thighs, your stomach; even your neck drove him mad. Shamefully, he'd finished to fabricated images of kneeling between those pyjama-clad thighs, watching your face contort with pleasure. Your gentle eyes and painfully inviting lips were always teasing him.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to a woman, lived with a woman. Regardless of whether it was an assignment, he began to feel comfortable in the abandoned house- like it was home. And as long as you were around, he found himself entirely distracted by you- whether it be your conversation or your face. So, your allusion to finding his company pleasant made his stomach flip.
"Still lonely though?" He inquired, his thighs spreading as he made himself comfortable on the rickety chair.
"You know how it is, I'm sure," You shrugged.
He did know. Fuck, did he ever know. But he wanted to hear you say it- hear you admit how lonely you are, how badly you missed being touched, kissed, fucked. It would make his intentions much less complicated.
"Not sure I do," He shook his head.
Your lips split into a grin- he was baiting you. You decided to give in, to see where it could lead.
"There are certain parts of you that'll always be lonely. Especially in our line of work." Your eyebrows raised.
His eyes pored into yours, watching you from beneath the yellowed kitchen light. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden table, before he took another shot of bourbon. You rubbed your lips together- were you making more of his charcoal eyes staring you down, or was he imagining relieving some of the loneliness you so boldly talked about?
Your confidence had ultimately been increased with your drinking, and especially as his body language welcomed you in. Open arms, thighs spread, chest out.
"Doesn't always have to be that way," He said in return- optimism; unexpected but appreciated. His hips shifted again, sitting up straight as he subconsciously leaned in closer to you. "'M sure you've got options." Right there in front of you.
Was it an offer, or simply polite reassurance?
"Not as many as you'd think. And none as tempting as the one I shouldn't even be considering." You said, your eyes slowly lifting to his.
"What's stoppin' you?" His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your response.
"Rules," You smiled softly.
You wondered if he had any idea you were referring to himself- surely he wasn't that oblivious. He had moved himself closer to you, watched your lips and tongue as you spoke- he was intrigued.
"Fuck the rules," He shrugged.
A deep breath in allowed you the momentary rush to stand to your feet and step toward him. You were close enough to cautiously lower yourself onto his lap, moving slowly until you were sure he was interested. His large hands flew to your waist as you planted yourself firmly. His expression- the little of which you could see, at least- remained unchanged. He wasn't oblivious.
His hands slid down your sides, gently caressing your hips before rounding your body and landing on your ass. He sighed quietly, almost unnoticeably- but his chest expanded and his grip tightened. A rough squeeze of your ass made you smile.
"Fuck the rules, then," You sighed, watching him grin.
He lifted a hand to your neck, long fingers tangling themselves in your hair, pulling your face closer to his so he could press his lips to yours. His mouth was warm and pleasant- just enough moisture on his lips to be soft to the touch. Your hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders, slowly inching closer as your kiss began to deepen.
His tongue slid against yours, forcing his way between your teeth and finding the soft, welcoming muscle of your tongue. He groaned, air exhaled from his nose fanning your cheeks. You returned the exhale, desperately sucking in air as his paw-like hands grabbed at your ass.
You couldn't help but grind forward, flinching subtly when his hands would palm your ass, or he'd so easily mould you against his body. His fingers were splayed out across your skin, calloused palms scratching the exposed flesh of your backside and thighs; his breaths became quicker with every slide of your hips over his groin.
You took note of what he seemed to enjoy- he was a bit rough, handled you with hint of carelessness and desperation, but you didn't mind. He was caught up in how your breasts felt against his chest, and how the curves of your body were so easy to glide his hands over.
Your fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, exposing your breasts. Ghost hardly blinked, his gaze falling to the supple flesh of your chest, nipples hardening with the impact of cool air.
"Christ," He mumbled to himself, especially hoarse and deep.
"Can I?" You asked softly, your hands reaching his shirt.
With a short nod, you lifted it over his head, revealing the physique of a hardened soldier- muscular, lean, bulky. Scars and burns acquired during his deployments flexed and rippled with his movements, his biceps popping up as he reached your hips with even greedier hands.
You'd stood to slide your shorts down your thighs, watching him lean forward to watch closely, to see every bit of you as best as possible. His eyes tracked from your breasts to your hips, eyeing the panties you wore, a single finger reaching out to hook beneath the fabric and tug it down.
In one fell swoop, his fingers slipped your panties off your hips. Before you could straddle him again, he stood to his feet, a hand wrapping around your waist and slowly turning you to his chest.
Goosebumps arose from your skin, his breath fanning the back of your neck, large hands holding you to his chest as his fingers crept toward your pussy.
"Been a long time?" He asked quietly, the rumble of his voice moving through his chest to your back. You shivered.
"Yeah," You nodded absently, arching your back, widening your stance when his finger reached between your folds. "A few years," You breathed, your head turning to find his eyes.
He leaned closer, his lips beside your ear as he simultaneously found your clit, applying the smallest amount of pressure to make your knees weaken.
"Stuck to doin' it yourself, yeah?"
Your cheeks flushed with heat, nodding slowly again, against his chest.
"Yes," You gulped.
"It ain't the same, is it?" He asked rhetorically, watching your nostrils flare, your tongue wet your lips as you writhed against him. "Don't get as wet when it's your own fingers?"
You shook your head.
"You're fuckin' wet now, sweetheart," He said, gruff and satisfied. "And I ain't hardly done anythin' yet."
You accepted his deduction, knowing he was right; it had been a long time, and it wasn't the same with your own fingers. Regardless, his warm body pressing against yours, his arms pinning you to him, his hard cock against your ass- he'd already done more than he even knew.
You whimpered quietly, dropping a few inches as he applied more pressure to your clit, working in circles while his lips clung to your neck. You tilted your head, allowing him more access, and wrapped an arm around his neck.
You breathed out, collapsing against his hold, letting him have his way with your pussy. You tried to hold out, to keep yourself composed, but the long, thick fingers rubbing short circles over your clit were going to cut your willpower short. His hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him, encouraging you to grind your ass over his cock.
You did- slow movements as you simultaneously ground your hips against his fingers. His breathing had picked up in your ear, harsh exhales as he held your body in his hands. You felt his breaths fan your neck, goosebumps appearing over your skin.
His consistent pace and gentle pressure made it easy to lose every other thought and focus solely on how his actions felt. Not longer after, he'd slid finger inside you, his breath hitching subtly at the feel of your insides. Warm, silky- enveloping him like a well-cushioned bed.
"Fuck, you feel good," He cursed. "You close?" He asked, feeling your thighs tremble.
You could only nod, focusing on the rough actions of his thumb, rubbing over your clit, and his fingers curling gently inside you. Your lips parted in an effort to suck in a breath, eyes shut, savouring the build-up and moments between where utter pleasure only began to spark. It didn't take much longer, your hands holding into his arms for stability as you came over his hand.
He slowly slid his fingers from you, satisfied with the trembling, weakened mess he'd made you into. His hands gently guided you against the table, pressing your chest against the cold wood.
You exhaled sharply, feeling his palm brush down your neck, then your back, before rounding your ass and leaving a gentle smack against your plush cheek.
You twitched, unsuspecting of Ghost kneeling behind you, parting your pussy to watch the liquid arousal seep out of you. You were still convulsing, when his tongue slid against you, his lips slurping against you.
A deep grumble of appreciation left his lips, vibrating through you. Your voice was hoarse, a moan squeezed out of your lungs that bounced off the table and rang loud in your ears.
"Y'alright?" He asked, accompanied by the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone.
You nodded, contorting your body to watch as his jeans dropped past his hips and his cock fell from his briefs. Your eyes widened when you felt him against you- he was bigger than anticipated, and you feared the consequences of being abstinent for so many years.
Surprisingly, as he slid in, your natural lubricant allowed him to enter you with ease. The stretch still stung, a quick sensation that made your body shudder. Your hands reached out before you, gripping the table as he filled you, his hips meeting your ass.
"Sorry, love," He muttered, "So goddamn tight."
"Keep going," You whispered, your body moving to watch him again as he thrusted the first few times.
His hands slid up your back, before settling on the curve of your waist. The leverage allowed him to get a better stance, and he bent down to meet your eye-line while his cock slowly penetrated you.
His other hand moved to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb on your jugular, eyes raking over your body but especially the view of his cock sliding in and out. It didn't last long, not when he reached beneath you to flick his fingers across your clit.
You sucked in a breath, letting out a short cry at the overstimulation.
"Was thinkin' about you, like this," He grunted. "Cunt spread open on my cock, that pretty face when you take it."
He was hoarse too, out of breath as his cock slipped in and out, his fingers still working at massaging your clit.
"Take it whenever you want," You pushed out, taking in a deep breath. "Just don't stop."
"Don't say that," He groaned. "Fuck- don't say that."
"I mean it-" You whispered, your eyes filling with tears, landing your cheek against the table. "'S yours," You whispered again. "All yours."
His hips stuttered, pulling his cock out of you before you felt warm liquid land on your back. You shivered again, feeling empty and exposed as he backed away.
He grabbed the nearest cloth, wiping it swiftly over your backside before you spun around to face him.
He arranged himself, doing his belt back up and adjusting the mask over the bridge of his nose.
"Get up," He said, gesturing for you to sit on the table, one hand around your waist.
"I meant it," Your eyes drifted up and down his body, your hand on his chest preventing him from lifting you. "Now that we have, we may as well take advantage."
Ghost stood quiet for a moment, as if thinking over your deal. He nodded, subtly at first, so subtle you hadn't even noticed, but then he agreed.
"Alright. Now- get on the table, 'n' spread those legs. Been wantin' t'taste you."
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ghostreblogging · 1 year
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Omg like I had this dream about it yesterday. So what if batfam decided nope we're gonna ghost proof this house. And in the way they did it, they didn't use blood blossoms, ectoranium etc (blood blossoms are extinct and hard to find in large quantities and ectoranium is a space metal that nobody knows exist yet or confused with kryptonite) They used magic, so it's little less noticable.
And Tim decides to Invite his new friend over, aka Danny Fenton . Said friend refuses to touch anything while there. He wouldn't sit, eat food, or touch any of the occupants. And when he finally accidentally touches something, the spell works and he is captured with glowing chains or straight up thrown back into the infinite realms.
Danny finally has time for normal teenager shit. He managed slowly go through the bureaucratic shithole that is the infinite realms politics and he managed to come out with his sanity intact. Phantom is no longer a menace but a hero that tragically gave himself up to seal all of the Infinite realms (that is kinda true he did go through a nightmare to make sure ghosts didn't attack the living world and had to do the equivalent of centuries worth of paperwork to do that.)
And all things considered ghosts are a thing of the past for most people. ( He hopes that the ones he allows through keep their oaths and stay hidden)
And he can finally be a normal teenager again, albeit in Gotham of all places. But the death in the city masks his more inhuman traits and he really didn't wanna go through another paper work stuff to register himself as a meta without the meta gene, he would have to do that later though.
But he can do that later, he's on a vacation and he's not doing that.
-_-_-_-
He is standing in the doorway. People around him are getting their umbrellas and sadly he doesn't have one. He was debating internally if he should just go or go back to the lost and found for an umbrella.
He was waiting for Tim as he agreed to come for dinner. The car ride to the Wayne manor was calm, filled with few words.
All changed when he came to find the whole manor was covered in intricate magical circles and traps. He saw atleast few that straight up sent him to the dark parts of the realms and he didn't want to touch that. And as much as he wanted to straight up escape, Tim had been asking for multiple days.
So as much as he wanted to flee, his social skills are shit and he didn't want to risk the awkwardness afterwards.
So he tried his best. Didn't touch the ground floated slightly above it, didn't touch the furnitures cuz apparently it was considered part of the house, couldn't touch the walls. Couldn't even touch the residents before setting the alarms off.
He thinks he pulled it off. Of course he pulled it off everything was going smoothly and he just has to make sure he has everyone in the room in his sights and float a bit. Well until the actual dinner. He couldn't touch the food and he looked quite akward so much so Tim whispers to him.
"You okay? You aren't touching your food."
"Oh I'm okay, it's just-" before he could even start with his sorrowful excuses, someone someone grabs his arm, again it wouldn't have been a problem too it would only raise the alarm, until he is pushed down into the chair thus triggering multiple traps .
Big golden chains appear and he is arleady out of the chair by then. He opens a window and turns to say sorry but he accidentally trips over another trap and is pulled into the realms. He should probably cross Tim out of his list of friends.
-_-_-_-
Tim's friend just fell through a portal, should probably call Constantine about that.
Dick was the first one to speak up after the silence that incued.
"Did we just banish Tim's new friend to the shadow realm?"
"Wait why did he trigger the alarm? He didn't seem all that ghostly, was he like Jason"
"Probably. We probably won't see him again, do we just. . . Push the blame onto Constantine?"
" We are heroes-"
"And how the heck are we supposed to enter the realms anyway? And escape! Constantine greatly expressed that portal was one way only"
*Tommorow*
They see Danny just waltzing through Gotham and they pull him aside.
"What the fuck. You got pulled into the shadow realm yesterday! How do you even trigger the alarms"
Danny who arleady went through the five stages of denial and how tf am I gonna explain "oh you see i am a warlock of....uhhhh
I didn't think this far
OH PHANTOM. THE GREAT PHANTOM"
And after a very stressful meeting with batman and the entire JL dark members cuz apparently his alter ego became a big deal without his agreement.
Where he
Had to speed learn how to create duplicates
Had to fight off a few ghost lawyers cuz they wanted to be a part of "the very important meeting of importance"
Got asked to do magic (he's still learning okay?)
He panicked tried to sell one of his powers as a spell or him just having the copy of his patrons power.
More people got worried about him supposedly creating a contract with a very powerful new unknown diety
Got into the JL dark as a warlock
People apparently trusts him now???? As FENTON??????
Apperantly showing off weaker version of patrons power was a bad idea cuz he greatly overestimated the power limit.
He is a powerful warlock of a powerful "demon"?
WHAT THE FUCK DO U MEAN I- MY PATRON IS NOT A DEMON
"so what is he"
Uhhhhhh a guardian spirit?
Uunhuun soo it's phantom right.?? Leme do some research
WHAT DO U MEAN PHANTOM IS APPARENTLY A GOD AND IS KNOWN GLOBALY FOR BEING THE GOD OF HEROES??
Wait . . . . Clockwork. Oh my god.
Now he is the number one call up magic person for the bats now.
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queenie-avenue · 4 months
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L-O-V-E! That's what she feels for you!
💌 ⤻THE CHEERLEADER, Katie Williams
—> despite how loud she is on the field, she is always quiet when watching you through your window.
⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader is a nerd, obsessive behaviour, stalking, stealing, posessive behaviour, bullying, jealousy, slightly suggestive, this is a drabble but I will make fics for her in the future
🦋 ⤻ archives.
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Katie Williams, the most popular girl in school. Stereotypically pretty with brunette hair, rich ebony skin, and of course, the cheerleader captain of you college. Regardless of what major you take, everyone has heard of Katie Williams and her sorority parties and cheerleading skills. Not to mention the piling number of admirers she has.
Yet, the only person she admired was you. The Hopeless Nerd who was a fellow student in one of her elective courses.
The first time she saw you, you were unassuming, the type of person she would have talked about behind your back but when you offered to share notes with her; without anything in return other than a thank you, it made her heart flourish like a blossom. You seemed so genuinely happy when you managed to speak to her and offer you help in the course.
She even heard you muttering about how you were glad to make a friend.
Oh... oh you... you may seem unassuming from your sweaters and oversized pants, but you — beautiful you — you were such a vixen; seducing her like that.
That night, she could not sleep at all.
Instead, she lulled over your notes in her one-person dorm, taking in the scent of the paper as she wondered whether the paper was accurate to how your delicate fingers actually smelled like.
She wanted those fingers so badly on her skin.
She had never desired anyone as much as she desired you. From a young age, her looks, her sensuality, and her popularity were all a means to an end — from that time she batted her eyelashes at a professor to round up her grade or flirted with the quarterback to get him to bring his crate of expensive beer to a party — but you were different. So different to the point she wanted to study you.
So she did.
✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧
It started out innocent — as innocent as it could be, really — by just tailing you after classes, even appearing out of nowhere so she could chat with you or maybe even drag you to cheer practice. Oh, your hands were so nice to touch, she didn't care if they were soft or callous, she just liked to touch you. She just loved the feel of your skin against her ebony-coloured hands. She was darker than most people so seeing the contrast made her rather pleased. It was a mark that you were holding her hand. As disgusting as it sounded, she didn't wash her hands till the scent of your hands faded away. If you used lotion, cologne or perfume, she made sure to buy that exact scent just to spritz around her dorm room to mimic the delusion that she was cuddling with you.
More than that, she utterly loved watching you from afar. Sure, talking to you was heaven for her, but seeing you alone, unfiltered, and without any societal pressures on you just made her want to latch onto you. She hoped one day you'd be able to show that part of yourself — unrestrained from social norms — to her. For now, she'll have to watch you from afar and from the camera she had snuck in when she came over to talk about a history essay for your class.
✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧
"[y/n], I remembered you liked this kind of candy, so I bought it for you!" She exclaimed as she clung onto your side.
"Huh?" You responded as you looked down at the candies she placed into your hands. "Did I ever tell you I liked this kind of candy?" You racked your brain, attempting to find the memory where you had shared such an intimate detail with her. After all, the both of you aren't that close, yet, anyway.
She froze on the spot for a moment. She had never been so obsessed with someone before, so she was admittedly a bit sloppy but she quickly recovered. "I see you around campus always snacking on it, I hope you like it!" She explained, twisting her words to make them sound sweet.
All. For. You.
"Thanks." You smile at her, and she swears she might faint. "See you in class?" You offered.
"Ye-yeah, see you in class." Katie had never been much of a fan of history, it was just something she picked out, but now she had something to look forward to.
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"Are you coming to the game next week? I'll be cheering as usual, so you need to come! Cheerleaders need their own cheerleaders too, okay?"
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Princess
Azriel x Reader
One of the series I'm currently working on, hope you enjoy it.
Princess masterlist
General masterlist
Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?
Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and death, description of reader.
Prologue
Y/n felt like she would pass out any moment now, the iron smell of blood filled her senses, her stomach twisting and the tears pouring down her face like a stream.
She couldn’t see the bodies, the guards of the winter court were standing in front of her shielding the view, she didn’t know if she wanted to thank them or curse them out for keeping her from seeing her parents one last time. A lady doesn’t curse. Her mother’s words ringed in her ears. A lady is polite.
She closed her eyes and took a few steps back exiting the house.
“We will take them now” a guard told her, and she nodded in response.
She was shopping dresses for the ball her cousin had invited her to. It was the perfect opportunity to meet high ranked faes her mother had told her. Guilt filled her body, she should’ve been there, with them. Who would do that? Enter a small cottage to steal… everyone knew that her family was poor, and when her father managed to sell some of the vegetables they grew in the covered part of their garden -so snow wouldn’t ruin them-, all the money would be used to buy clothes for her. Her parents always called her their saviour. She was beautiful, almost black hair, eyes sweet and brown like honey, gold in the sun. High cheekbones and full lips. She was a stunning female and that meant they could wed her to a noble fae thus she was their saviour. Ever since she was a little girl, she was trained to be a good wife, her only skills were keeping the house clean, cooking and being gentle and obedient. What would she do now? She wasn’t trained for anything else. She smoothed her dress and turned her back when the guards carried her parent’s bodies away from the house. The females of her street entered her house, rugs in their hands and buckets filled with water and essential oils to clean and take care of the smell. She always helped everyone in need and now it was time for them to pay her back for her kindness.
She didn’t know how long she stayed outside, snowflakes landing on her face leaving a rosy shade as they melted. She was used to the cold, it was even comforting for her. When the females were done cleaning, she walked inside nodding her head at the looks of pity she received. Her house was spotless, not a hint of the brutal act that took place there a few hours ago. She noticed that someone had even baked a pie for her. Her mouth watered but as she approached the pie she only felt nauseous, how could she eat right now? She shook her head and sat on the couch staring at the snow outside from the window there.
The next morning found her in the same spot, her tears had dried. She stood up and walked to the kitchen. You need to eat; males prefer healthy females who can carry their heirs. Her mother’s words again.  She stared at the cold pie and ignoring her nausea she took a bite. She finished her food and cleaned the kitchen. She had to get to the ball, that’s what her parents wanted. So, with a deep breath she walked to the bathing room and stripped her clothes, the water was cold but she didn’t mind, she was numb. When she was done, she walked into her room, the dress she bought was laying on her bed, probably one of the females found it where she dropped it and left it here. After getting dressed and pulling her hair in a high bun she stared her reflection in the small mirror of her room. She looked good, only her eyes were dull, but she was sure no one would notice, males didn’t care about those things as long as she had a smile plastered on her face.
It would take a few hours to get to the big house where the ball was held. Her cousin was waiting for her outside in her small carriage. She smoothed the dress and left the house not looking back. No one was standing back there waving goodbye and wishing her luck anymore. As she climbed into the carriage her cousin had a sad smile on her face, she ignored her and made herself comfortable. The ride was filled with silence and after a few hours they arrived. Y/n was staring the house in awe, it was a beautiful three-story building with a huge garden. They were in the middle of the forest, the snowy trees only making the scene more magical.
The inside of the house was just as magnificent, everything decorated with gold ornaments, the floor so shiny someone could think it was a mirror. Blending in wasn’t that hard for y/n after all she was trained to be anything a male would want, a glass of wine in her hand, a sweet smile on her face and….as she turned to walk around she was met with a hard body, spilling her wine on the male’s feet.
“Watch where you’re fucking going” he hissed. He looked the same age as her, blond hair, blue eyes but filled with spite.
“I’m so sorry” she stuttered.
“Clean the mess you created. Now.” He ordered and she quickly grabbed the nearest cloth she could find, kneeling in front of him to clean his shoes.
“What the hell are you doing” a female voice said from behind. Y/n turned around slowly. Relief filled her face when she noticed the blonde female staring at him and not her.
“Why do you care” he growled.
The female grabbed y/n hand and pulled her so she was standing.
“Next time I see you treating a woman like that it will be your last day on this world” she said in a calm voice that sent shivers down y/n’s spine. The male paled and hurried off to his friends.
“Girl what was that?” the blonde asked her wide eyed.
“I spilled my wine on him…. It was my fault” y/n muttered.
“He would get over it, just an apology was enough” she scoffed. “I’m Mor by the way”
“Y/n. And I just wanted to please him, he could be a nice husband”.
Mor blinked. A look of horror when she realized that y/n was one of the girls trained to be perfect wives. Kallias had informed her about those types of girls and how he was planning to stop it.
“Cauldron boil me, who trained you like that?”
“My parents” y/n replied, her bottom lip trembled. “They were murdered yesterday” she continued.
Mor stared at y/n, her heart filled with rage.
“Do you have anyone else?”
“No… but I’m trying to find a husband like my parents wanted me to.”
“Okay, you’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you here alone with all these brutes” Mor replied making y/n gasp.
“Where?” she asked bitting her bottom lip. She was nervous but her eyes flashed with excitement.
“To the night court” and with that Mor grabbed her hand and darkness swallowed them.
When the darkness disappeared, they fell into a big balcony.
“Sorry I forgot to tell you about the drop” Mor smiled apologetically.
“It’s okay” y/n replied and turned to see the view. A beautiful city laid beneath them, buildings crafted out of white marbles and townhouses with green copper roofs and white chimneys. A river that started from the top of the hills and ended in the sea. The city was full of light and noise, y/n didn’t think that a city could be this beautiful without snow. She kept staring not daring to blink in case she missed anything. Mesmerizing. The only word that came into her mind. Mor was grinning next to her, amused by the way the young female was frozen in her spot, her eyes wide and a small smile on her face.
“By the way, stop being so okay with everything” Y/n snapped her head to Mor caught off guard when the blonde spoke. “You were okay with leaving with a stranger, and also okay when said stranger dropped you on a balcony endangering your life since you weren’t ready” Mor continued.
“I’m just being polite” y/n responded frowning. The blonde female just shook her head and started walking. They were met with glass doors that led into a dining room where several faeries were sitting enjoying their food and wine. All eyes were on y/n in an instant.
Mor cleared her throat. “Hello everyone, I brought some company” Y/n immediately felt uncomfortable, everyone was dressed so casually and here she stood in a pink dress of tulle, the skirt floating around her like a tent.
“This is y/n” Mor spoke again, and the female straightened her posture not sure if anyone spoke in the meantime when she was lost in her thoughts.
“I’m Rhysand” one of the males spoke and Y/n almost choked on air.
“The high lord of the night court Rhysand?” her hands were shaking, and she now regretted the choice to follow Mor here. Everyone burst into laughter by her reaction.
Rhysand smiled “And this is my high lady Feyre, her sisters Nesta and Elain, Cassian the General and commander of my armies, Amren my second in command and Azriel my spymaster.”
Y/n’s eyes were frantic from one face to another but what finally caught her attention was the hazel eyes of the spymaster, she studied him, her eyes moving from his face to his wings and hands -scarred hands. He caught her and removed his hands from the table, her face burned in embarrassment, and she moved her gaze back to Rhysand who kept staring at her waiting for what she had to say.
“Uhm my name is y/n, I’m from the winter court” she stuttered.
Rhysand’s gaze turned to Mor who finally spoke again “She was raised to be a good wife and her parents were murdered yesterday so you can understand why I think she needs protection.” Azriel snorted and Nesta gave him a questioning look “That means she was raised like a princess the worst thing she ever did was washing a dish probably and she has no idea about the world outside her pink bubble” he explained. Nesta’s face hardened and y/n stared at her shoes. “And dear Mor decided to bring her here to protect her without asking anyone first” he continued and stood up abandoning his food as he disappeared into the hall.
“Please excuse Azriel” Feyre spoke “He has been through a lot, you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish for, let me show you the guest rooms”
“Thank you” she replied and followed Feyre. The last thing she heard was Mor reassuring Rhysand that she wasn’t a threat.
Now she entirely regretted following a stranger, but she knew that in order to survive in this world she needed to stay here even if Azriel and Nesta made her life a nightmare.
Just a thought I had yesterday. Do you think I should continue this story?
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Text
Romantics
Jason Todd x f!reader
Summary: Everyone goes to Jason for romantic advice, but who does he go to?
Warnings: None! just fluff. like major fluff.
Notes: Can I offer you some fluff in the angst drought that has become my blog?
1,541 words
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Imagine Jason Todd who is an utter romantic. Jason Todd who realizes he's in over his head with how much he loves you.
Yeah, he's thought about it - proposing. In fact, he's not just thought about it, Jason's got it all planned out. He might as well have a spreadsheet written out with all the special details he's added just for you; all in the correct order with the perfect timing so that everything happens at just the right moment to impress/enchant you the most.
Yeah, Jason Todd is a romantic.
He holds it back to keep up his bad boy persona, but in the end, that just adds to his charm. And despite his attempts to hide, everyone knows.
Tim wants to know what the best gift is for a first Valentine's day:
"What says, 'I really like you, but I don't want to scare you away, but I do want to spend all my free time with you, but I can't actually commit to anything serious at this moment?'" "Wow, Tim. Really stepping it up in the romance game, huh?"
Cass wants to know how to make the next move:
"You come here often?" Cass turns her head to look at him, then looks back at the window across the street. Jason followed her to this rooftop, where they now sit, looking through someone's apartment window. Looking for answers as to why she'd been sneaking off here lately, he stood in the shadows for a moment observing. When the pretty alt girl appeared in the window, it all made sense. "You should talk to her." Cass gives him a look that says, "Really?" Jason grimaces under his helmet at his word choice. "Know where she works?" She nods. "Want me to stop by and tell her that sign language is a valuable life skill?" Cass lowers her head to hide her smile. "Hey listen, a good smile can go a long way, and you've got a good smile. Why don't you write down you socials for her? Tell her about yourself through pictures and text. That's the magic of the modern age, honey." Tearing her eyes from the figure in the window, Cass looks at Jason with a flush in her cheeks and nods at him. "Any time." The whir of his grapple hook gets lost in the sound of traffic as Jason repels down the building, leaving Cass and her star-crossed lover alone.
Even Damian has asked for the most effective way to show his affections towards a romantic interest:
"Damian, I respect the hustle, I do, but you can't date your lit teacher. She is hot though, what'd you say her name was?"
And yes, even Bruce has asked for a restaurant recommendation or two:
"Heh, get fucked old man." Jason hung up just in time to hear Bruce's sigh on the other end. But before he put the phone back in his pocket he sent a quick text. If this is just some Brucie Wayne fling - Kelly's on Mariner Street If you actually like them - The new place on 8th And if you finally got up the balls to take Selina out, go to Nonna's on the corner of Maryland and Utah. But ONLY go to Nonna's if you're gonna bring Selina. That is not the type of place you bring a summer fling, Bruce. It's the type of place you reserve for the one. And I swear to god, you better listen to that because I did not just give away my secret spot to you so that you could take Sally Smith from the January calendar.
But the most surprising of all was when Dick came to Jason, asking for advice on the most sincere way to prove you mean an apology:
"You [redacted] [redacted]. Who taught you to be such a [redacted] [redacted]. No, I'm not helping you get out of this, [redacted]. [redacted/fight.scene./redacted] ... Jason sniffs, wiping blood from his nose. "Listen man, there's nothing you can do." Dick groans from his position on the floor. "Maybe she'll forgive you, maybe she won't. There's not much you can do in the meantime besides learn how not to be everybody's favorite boy. Nothing else I can tell you besides to learn from your mistakes, man." Dick sighed. He knew Jason was right. "Yeah." Jason hauled himself up to standing and offered a hand to Dick. "Wanna grab a beer?" "Yeah."
All of this to say that when Jason said he had a plan for you, he meant it. Yes, he had taken you to Nonna's and yes, he wanted to marry you. But he wasn't gonna let you know that, not until he was ready. And risk ruining the surprise, the perfect moment? Not if Jason could help- wait.
"Is this really how you live without me?" It's true that Jason loves to cook. It's also true that Jason has grimaced at the food you cook for yourself when he's not around to take care of you. Currently he's reluctantly looking at you prepare a pitiful meal of ground beef, mashed potatoes, and romaine lettuce.
"It's true, my life is lacking without your presence."
Jason walks slowly up behind you, smirking. So poetic, so sassy, so... perfect for him. He wraps his arms around your waist, tugs you flush against him, and buries his head into the crook of your neck.
"Let's get married," he says into your hair.
Shit.
You chuckle and turn around in his hold. "What?"
Shit.
Thinking quickly he kisses you on the lips, distracting you for a moment before reaching around you for your bowl of mashed potatoes.
"At least put some like, garlic butter in these or something."
You scoff. Real smooth, Jason. But the moment's passed, so you punch him in the back and take your potatoes back.
...
"And that's how it happened. And now I don't know what to do, Alfred. My plan's ruined."
Alfred took a sip from his tea. "Why exactly should that ruin your plan?"
Dunking sugar in his own cup, Jason answers, "Because! There's no surprise anymore. The romance, Alfred! It's dead now."
"Oh please, boy, don't be so dramatic." Alfred sets his cup on its saucer and sits up. "Think of it this way, and maybe the whole situation won't feel like such a disaster: You've put so much time and thought into this plan of yours, but have you allowed Miss Y/N the same preparation?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're going to know just what to say and do at just the right time, but you aren't giving her the same advantages. Have you thought that maybe she would appreciate the chance to prepare her answer as much as you've prepared the question?"
"Are you saying I should tell her that I'm going to propose? What's the point of that? What would be the point of proposing at all?"
"I don't think that's necessary. If she's as clever as I think she is, between your confession and the trail of rose petals you've laid out, she'll know."
...
Your wine glasses make a delightful clinking sound as Jason gives the toast.
"To us."
You laugh. "That's pretty cliche, Jace."
"Well, I could be more specific if you want, but this is a public restaurant and I don't wanna get too x-rated."
You might laugh, given the cramped but charmed dining space you’re in, with just enough room for two tables, including yours. An endearing little place called "Nonna's" that Jason was in love with for some reason. Well, you knew why. The owner, Nonna, was quite taken with him and Jason could never say no to a grandma who gave him the family discount. Not to mention the food and wine was divine. But the way Jason is looking at you only makes you blush. You get back at him by brushing the tip of your heel up his pant leg.
"You can save the details for later."
Jason bites the corner of his lip, gaze drawing down from your eyes. Then his eyes land on your hand - your left hand, resting in his.
Everything is perfect - just as planned. Jason hangs his head down, smiling, taking in every perfect detail of the night, right down to the toe of your high heel. He meets your eyes, holding you there.
"I know you're not big on PDA, but I wanna do this right, so do you mind making an exception?"
Your breath hitches. Here it is.
"Only if it's not too embarrassing. I think Joe is listening in from the kitchen."
"I don't think he'll judge."
Jason scoots back his chair and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a gorgeous little black box before getting down on one knee. You move your hands under your thighs to stop them from shaking but Jason chuckles and motions for your left hand. Realization dawns on you and you laugh before extending it to him. He grasps it tightly in both of his, bringing it to his mouth for a moment.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Your nervousness bursts out in laughter. "I swear to god, Jason-"
"Y/N, will you marry me?"
@theastrokat @millyhelp @the-midnight-duck @obsessednerdymoon @evalynanne @akirashindou @amonett
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angelrari · 4 months
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gossip girl · pt. x
based on the tv series gossip girl
max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader
fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)
a/n: hi! thank you for the feedback and all of the support. here's a new part for you, i hope you enojoy it! 🤍
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gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.
yourusername
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yourusername off to vegas 🛫🎲
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username the queen of hearts
pierregasly am i missing something?👀
yourusername yeah padel skills
pierregasly 🥱🥱🥱
username @/pierregasly are you trying to do @/gossipgirl's job?
username i'm convinced he is @/gossipgirl
username max and her travelling together again IT IS OFFICIAL
username the day we get a picture of them together the world will stop
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for the past weeks max had been keeping in contact with you. the different timezones were not easy to deal with, but max would wait until late to call you, killing time until you woke up on the other side of the world and, when he finally heard your voice, he would listen as you complained about work, how jolie (once again) was stealing your clothes or the hard time you were having trying to find an apartment in monaco to rent. he would also tell you everything about his day, the city he was staying in and the gossip going around the paddock. and for the first time you missed him.
after the brasil gp, max had traveled all the way back to monaco to be with you for a couple of days and then travel to las vegas together. three months ago you would have never imagined this. you spent all the free time you had with max, but somehow you still craved more. and, you knew, he did too.
now you were on your way to vegas, resting your head on max's shoulder as he looked out the jet window and his hand carefully caressed your hair. his heartbeat sounds, that you were now getting used to hearing, were soothing you.
"are you coming to the opening ceremony?".
"of course". you said. "and afterwards i have to attend to the welcome party, but you're skipping it, right?".
"yeah, but i'll drive you there". he said. you looked at him and his blue eyes quickly starred into yours.
"you know you don't have to, right?".
"i know, but i want to".
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yourusername posted a story
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the sound of steve aoki's set was louder as you came closer to the track, were the show was being held. max, who was ready (at least physically) for his apperance at las vegas grand prix opening ceremony, was holding your hand tightly as he followed some of his team members.
a remix of all of me by john legend started playing and you could not stop yourself from singing the lyrics. max could not stop smiling as he watched you enjoy the show. he loved the way how his red bull jacket looked you, how your eyes shined so brightly that put the neon lights of las vegas to shame and how the world stopped every time you smiled. and then he realized how he would not mind to go through all this shitshow once again if you were by his side.
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yourusername
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yourusername devils roll the dice
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username the way max and charles are always in her likes
username god i've seen what you've done for others
username mother quoting mother
gossipgirl red looks good on you
joliedebelle oh please shut up for once
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1:17 am. the cold weather sneaked inside your clothes making your body react at the freezing sensation. the welcome party had gone well, you had met the people your father asked you to, took a few pictures to post on social media and finished way earlier than you thought. but now you were standing outside the venue, cursing under your breath because, after fifteen minutes of waiting, you just could not find a damn uber.
"need a ride?". you heard from behind you and your heart skipped a beat. quickly you turned around and let out a huff when you saw charles, who had a grin on his face after seeing your reaction.
"fuck". you swore. "you scared me you idiot, i thought you were a creep".
"that's not what you should say to the prince charming who's gonna rescue you". he said and you rolled your eyes at his words. "but i guess i'll make an exception and ignore all the curse words you have just said".
"it's the least you could do after i had to deal with you for four years". you teased him.
"don't push it or i'll leave you here".
"oh, you know you can't". you said as he unlocked the doors of the black ferrari in front of you.
"get in, baby".
charles was never a reckless driver, at least not when you were inside the car next to him. on every stop light, he would check on you, resting his left hand on the gear shift instead of your leg like he used to do years ago.
"god, i am so tired i'm literally gonna pass out before we get to the hotel".
"is the jet lag kicking you? you arrived yesterday right?".
"yeah, plus i couldn't sleep well last night". you explained as you rubbed your eyes. "you didn't go back to monaco after brasil, did you?".
"no, i've been staying in la. i was invited to a lakers match, well, actually, léa was invited too, but anyway-, i decided to stay there and met a few friends that i can't see very often".
"that sounds nice". you said as you looked at him. "have you heard from her?".
"léa? no. i think she has given up on me". he replied as he starred at the road ahead.
"why would you say that?".
"it's difficult to explain, but i don't think i am in love with her". he stated. "i have dated a few girls after we broke up, you already know that, but the thing is i have been struggling to find someone who makes me feel something. i thought that with léa everything would be different, but it wasn't. at the begging it felt like a love story, we knew each other since ages ago, we met after years, had a connection. and, fuck, i know i shouldn't say this, but when you came back was when i realized i just didn't care about léa, at least not the way i do about you".
"charles-".
"and i know it's wrong, i'm very aware, but it's the truth and i'm done pretending". he stopped the car at the red light and looked at you. "it's hard to know that the person i've searched for all these years is you, it's hard to ignore the way i feel whenever you are around and it's hard to watch you fall in love with somebody else".
"i-".
"i know you said you two weren't a thing, but i saw you in the paddock tonight, you were singing while you held his hand and max could not look away from you. and i hated every second of it because now i know it is way too late".
"i am sorry". you said. "i didn't know you felt this way".
"i am sorry too". and that was the moment you knew that, no matter how much time had passed, your heart still had a spot for your first love.
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manicpixiefelix · 1 month
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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 15.
Summary: Oliver's first night and the next morning at Saltburn, and you learn that not only does he know more about you and Felix than you'd assumed, but he knows even less about the social rules of a place like this than you'd imagined.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
Warnings: suggestive themes, we finally get the basis of the consensual pervert/enabler dynamic between oliver/reader(/felix). its implications in this chapter but will probably get more explicit in future.
A/N: 4908 words. venetia catton is a menace to society and i am in lvoe with her. set up is being set up!! we're getting there, friends!!
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
You wish you hadn't looked out of the window. You wished you hadn't cracked open the door to step onto the balcony. You wished you hadn't waited up.
Dinner had ended hours ago, and Felix was well and truly asleep, but you'd left your smokes on his balcony and had taken a break from going over the guest lists for the upcoming events that Duncan had provided you with. It was something you did every year, it helped calm your anxiety around these formal events, to be well versed on all the patrons in attendance, making everyone feel as though their place at Saltburn mattered, if only for a night. There was most certainly some deep, psychological root of your crippling social anxiety and fear of faux par and failure, but that was almost certainly a problem to investigate in the future.
The lilac study had been functionally unused since before even Felix had been born, sitting idle and untouched but beautifully furnished directly across from his room, on the other side of the long gallery, with a beautiful view of the gardens. It became unofficially your study many years ago, though sometimes Felix would use it too if he had some kind of Summer project he had to attend to. But now it was yours, set up with a bulky computer for the occasional emails from your family business that you were becoming slowly more involved in. Mostly, however, you spent your time thoroughly poring over these dossiers of guest lists with attached relevant information, committing all of them to memory.
After spending most of the day high, you felt guilty enough to get a head start on the Summer that evening.
But just before midnight you'd needed a smoke.
Oliver and Venetia painted so pale in the moonlight, Oliver half dressed and clearly ready for bed, Venetia with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders that you knew she wouldn't have brought herself. It doesn't seem to be a particularly deep conversation, but you think you can see Venetia smiling, and a smile like that can never mean anything good. Surely she'd told Oliver some pretty lie about why she was out there, but her room was on the other side of the house.
Oliver is unconventionally wonderful, and she is, and forever will be, Venetia Catton.
He will fall for her tricks, and you're sure part of her, just like her brother, just like yourself, would fall for part of Oliver's unsuspecting charms.
Just like she said she had with Eddie.
No, this was deliberate, you were sure; Venetia was playing this dangerous game again.
Retiring back to your study, you make sure to keep the door ajar to hear of anyone coming through the gallery. Saltburn is a creature that groans when you tread in the wrong places; you, like Duncan, had long ago mastered the art of moving around the house in total silence. None of the Cattons had ever felt it a necessary skill to learn. Oliver hadn't even been here a day. His footsteps practically echoed like drum beats.
"Everything okay, Ollie?" You shoot for casual, voice loud enough that you know he'd hear it in the quiet ambiance of the night, but that it wouldn't disturb Felix. The footsteps stop. There's no tell-tale creak of his door. Then, he moves towards you.
"How'd you know it was me?" Oliver, at your door, is shirtless. Oh. Right. Of course he was. He had been in the garden only moments before.
"I saw you downstairs," you say, trying to regain your train of thought. It's the easiest for him to digest, and most of the truth. He hadn't seemed to like the thought of you knowing his prescription earlier, even though you were just embarrassed to admit you'd stolen his glasses for a few days back in the first few months of meeting him, throwing enough money at an optometrist that they'd figured out his prescription from his current glasses. Right now you didn't want to tell him that you had spent enough time here that you could distinguish the Cattons from their staff, and distinguish each of the Cattons by footstep alone, and that Oliver's was so blatantly different to everyone else's that it was easy to deduce it was him. No, you don't say any of that.
"Oh," Oliver says awkwardly, shivering a little. Despite the heat of the day, it had cooled off considerably, "I spotted Venetia down there, I thought she might have been sleepwalking."
"Was she?" You ask with an automatic little smile, not wanting to give away how much you knew this to be Venetia's game.
"Said she was looking at the moon."
A sight you knew was perfectly visible from her own room. But you bite your tongue on that.
"So no?" You let the smile ease to something less robotic, something knowing, and Oliver sheepishly shook his head. Settling back in your chair in the lamp light, you look him over. Had he always looked so... you remember how he'd looked in the moonlight of your room and you have to look away, lest you get yourself flustered.
"Are you alright?" Oliver speaks up, taking a step into the study, finally letting himself look around. "Thought you'd be in bed."
"I'm meant to be," you admitted, "but I was getting ahead of this year's Summer schedule," you gesture to the book, and Oliver finally comes and joins you. He leans down over your shoulder, squinting at the pages, your shoulder pressed to his hip. He squints a little longer. Ah, "you're welcome to have a good look at it tomorrow," you offered brightly, pointedly not saying when you're wearing contacts and actually able to see, but Oliver thankfully seems to take the hint, even if he's still clearly awkward about the reminder. His hand then comes to rest on your shoulder, looking down at you and the way you're glowing in the gold light.
A moment passes; there's something on his mind, but you'll never push. Eventually it always comes out. It doesn't take long this time at least.
"Felix brought someone else to Saltburn, didn't he? Before; not just you," Oliver says softly, eyebrows knitting together. Fucking Venetia, you thought ruefully. Some of it must show on your face, because Oliver's hand comes up from your shoulders, thumb against the faintest scowl that has wrinkled your brow.
"What did she tell you?"
"Nothing really," he says faintly; while his expression is no longer concerned, there's something about the way he's watching you, cataloguing every small moment and movement of your face, each looking in your eyes, everything about you and your reaction that makes you feel... studied. Catalogued. Seen. You don't flinch away, don't move, just let yourself react, and let Oliver watch all the while. Then, after a moment, his hand is moving again, holding your chin, thumb running so gently over the curve of your lips, "called me lucky is all," he mumbled, as if transfixed by your face, by the way you're allowing this moment to go on, "said you didn't even like the last one." His words dip with disdain as he recalls what Venetia had said; what a snitch she was, you found yourself thinking.
"You need to be careful, Ollie," you tell him faintly, warning on your lips as you found yourself biting your tongue on a past that you don't feel is yours to really speak on. It was true that you had never been best friends with Eddie, but you were still rather fond of him. Even if that fondness was born from Felix's. Even if you were glad to be rid of him. Even if he hadn't even made it down the driveway before you were sending emails and worming your way into the Oxford administration usernet.
"Careful of the cold-blooded Cattons?" He asks, voice surprisingly idle, as if bored by the warnings, unphased by them. Where had his earlier trepidation gotten to, you wonder, right as Oliver gently caresses your cheek, "or should I be careful of you?" There's something in his voice that you're sure you'd only heard when he was looking up from between your thighs.
When you open your eyes, you find yourself meeting his curious gaze. The lamp paints his cool skin gold. One conversation with Felix and his hesitancy is gone. It's like you picked up right where you'd left off with each other before Felix's jealousy had awoken. It's actually a little infuriating, bordering on embarrassing, how taken you are with Oliver's quiet confidence.
After a moment in which you struggle to find the right words, Oliver actually smiles at you. It's almost condescending, like he understands the effect he has on you in these moments.
"Don't be jealous, pet," he tells you. Immediate, flustered shock flashes across your face before you can even stop it. But he doesn't tease, doesn't draw out the moment, he simply lets you breathe in and adjust to the moment, to his use of the nickname.
Saltburn creaks, the tell-tale noise of the old house settling into its foundation; Oliver, unfamiliar with the way the Estate echoes it's own, predicable, discordant melody of a night, looks to the door with sudden nerves once more. Something about his momentary uncertainty of his surrounds reminds you to breathe, to settle yourself like the house you practically grew up in.
You give a tired smile like it's all merely a joke, closing the dossier on the table in front of you.
"You should go to bed, Ollie," you tell him, voice nothing but warm and gentle, "we both should." Oliver ducks his head obligingly, stepping back from your seat to give you space, but still waiting patiently for you.
Once the lamp clicks off and the two of you are drenched in darkness, Oliver's voice cuts through the darkness as the two of you make your way to the lighter, long gallery.
"It must be nice being away from Oxford, being somewhere you don't have to pretend."
"Pretend what?"
"You know, the thing that's going on with you and Felix, whatever you want to call it." He says it so casually that you respond without really thinking. After all, he had a point; it's one of the many reasons you loved Summers at Saltburn.
"I don't even know the right words for it," after a long moment to think, you admit sheepishly. Then, moving to the long gallery that's still dimly lit, you look to Oliver with mild confusion as you fully process his words, "you... know?" Oliver, shirtless and in his pyjama bottoms, leans casually against his doorframe with a coy little smile. "How much do you know?" His smile grows wider; even from here his eyes look like they're shining with amusement.
"I don't think that kind of talk's appropriate for polite company," he teases, and you can feel your heartbeat racing. Sure you weren't careful at university, but you thought you'd at least convinced everyone it was platonic. Somehow.
"What- Oliver what does that mean? What have you seen or heard or -?" You babbled, flustered beneath his knowing gaze that suddenly burned with desire.
"Don't you want to be wanted anymore?" Is all he offered, simply wishing you a good rest of your night, slipping into his room. You're left flustered and speechless and honestly getting a little hot and bothered trying to figure out exactly what he was implying, and what he had seen.
Back in your room, you flick on the lamp on your side of the bed, trying to remain as quiet as possible as to not disturb the already sleeping Felix as you undress yourself, searching for your pyjamas. You're so in your head thinking about the encounter you'd just had with Oliver, trying to understand all the implications he left unsaid, that you don't even hear Felix yawning and shifting in the bed, half woken by the light.
"Hot," he mumbles after a long, appreciative hum, wearing a wide smile that would have bordered on leering if you didn't know him better. Actually, it was leering, but if anyone was allowed to leer at you it would be half asleep Felix, "this is perfect," he muses, pulling back the blankets to make room for you on the bed next to him, "you can stay like this; come here, don't worry about the pyjamas, no-one cares about them -" and you're more than happy to tuck yourself up against him like this. Pyjamas were more a habit than anything else, and Felix draws shapes on your bare back as you're both falling asleep.
Yes, you think to yourself as you're drifting off, it is nice being away from Oxford, being somewhere you didn't have to pretend.
The next morning you decide to chalk Oliver's boldness and implications up to the late hour, and don't feel the need to mention it over breakfast. Or, well, not all of it.
"Is there something wrong with the toast, pet?" Pamela asks gently across the table, her big, doe eyes boring into you where you'd been glaring down at your plate for the past five minutes. Venetia and Farleigh have been talking quietly together on Felix's other side, clearly comparing notes on Oliver already. Looking up at her just as the other two go quiet, you try and reassure her that everything's fine, even if your face hasn't quite gotten the message.
"Come on, shouldn't you just be happy that -" Venetia starts, but you cut her off before she can say something demeaning about either yourself or Oliver, knowing her too well to trust her mouth at any time of day, even over breakfast with the whole family.
"I am happy Ollie's here, Ven," you told her flatly, leaning forward to level an unimpressed look at her around Felix, "less thrilled about you being weird and coquettish outside my window," even though your façade doesn't show it, you're pleased by the pleased little cackle Felix covers with a sip of his drink, "do they not have the moon on your side of the house?" You snipe, and Venetia immediately rolls her eyes.
"See, I told you," Farleigh clicked his tongue pointedly, refusing to look at you in this moment, "possessive."
"Existing in my own home doesn't make me weird," Venetia gives a mean, humourless smile back, "and talking to our houseguest after he approached me doesn't make me coquettish."
"It does when you're doing it in that little, damn teddy nightgown and talking shit about me!"
"Christ, Vee," Felix sighed with faint disappointment. While your ribbing could be construed as playful or even jealous, Venetia always took Felix's negativity to heart. Not that he'd ever been able to tell that; Venetia always did well to hide her hurt behind further, thorny barbs.
"I wasn't talking shit," she sighed, terribly exasperated all of a sudden, "I just told him you were like one of those angry, little purse dogs Paris Hilton carries around," Venetia said without a hint of apology or remorse, "which of course makes Felix Paris -" Felix tears his slice of toast in half and jams both halves into Venetia's cup of tea without warning, causing her to shriek with absolute indignation.
"Felix, please," Elspeth sighs from beside Pamela, who'd all but leapt from her seat with shock, watching as two of the staff suddenly swarmed the flustered young woman to start cleaning the spilled, soiled drink from the table.
"'Felix, please'?" You huff mockingly under your breath before your best mate even gets the chance to be indignant for himself, "Venetia, please," you correct haughtily, though you're quietly glad that Elspeth has chosen to pointedly ignore you. However Venetia herself casts her gaze to you and Felix, both of you wearing near identical, childish looks of irritation, to which she responds in kind. Venetia sticks her tongue out at you both.
Pamela just watches Venetia's poor teacup despairingly as it's whisked away. Elspeth sighs deeply, and asks if anyone had informed Oliver what time breakfast would be. It had slipped your mind, and judging by the look on Felix's face, it had slipped his as well.
By the time Oliver joins you all, the tense atmosphere had disappeared, easing to something light and bright as you and the Catton family looked forward to the day, and to helping Oliver get properly acquainted with the Estate. During the discussion, the planning, you make a mental note to find one of the many beautiful books on Saltburn and the intricacies of it's heritage for Oliver to have a look at if he wanted to. While the idea of researching one's holiday home may not sound like the greatest idea of fun to most people, getting familiar with the house your best friend always took for granted made you feel like you understood it better, made you feel like you knew what you were settling yourself amongst.
"Y/N, dear, is that copy of Percy Bysshe Shelley's poetry still amongst your collection?" Sir James brings up, his eyes bright and wide. The book in all it's aged glory is sitting on your shelf in Oliver's room at that moment.
Very suddenly you're hit with a rush of affection, and the memory of a sweet summer afternoon, of being captured by Love's Philosophy written so simply on those pages. Those summer afternoons turned into evenings and the maze became the kind of magical only you could seem to feel, but that Felix would always indulge you in. Oh. You had to bring Oliver along, see if he could feel it too.
"Yeah," you cleared your throat, giving Sir James a smile across the long dining table. He seems delighted, apparently having read Percy Shelley's biography not to long ago, and has since wanted to reacquaint himself with the poet's work. For a moment, Venetia lights up with genuine interest and intrigue; for as long as you'd known her, she'd shared her father's passion for history, both harbouring a peculiar fascination for the sordid private lives of prominent creative figures.
Several years ago, Venetia had gifted her father the biography of Howard Hughes for Christmas; the following year, Sir James had pulled enough strings to get them both in attendance as VIPs for The Aviator's world premiere, the film based on that very same book. Venetia says the best part was meeting and having drinks with Leo DiCaprio; the only photo that she got properly printed and framed from the premiere, the one of her and her father beaming, says she's lying. They still spend hours in the library together when James isn't working. Venetia almost seems to be relaxed in those moments, from what you'd observed.
Oliver is back to being his quiet, awkward self when he finally makes it to the table, all fidgeting and uncertain steps towards the only empty chair at the table. Venetia lights up a cigarette as a new teacup is placed in front of her, both she and Farleigh observing Oliver's every movement with anthropological curiosity. So, instead of looking at either of them, Oliver looks to you, giving an almost nervous smile as he sits gingerly.
The mood is almost cripplingly uncomfortable.
Oliver tries to order a full English breakfast; Duncan looks like he'd just called his mother a cunt to his face.
The second hand embarrassment at the failed formality makes you feel like you're seconds away from some kind of empathetic anxiety attack, so you jump to your feet as the rest of the family act like they really live in a reality where every other person knew every secret high society script they were born knowing. They recover, but not quick enough for Oliver to not be tense, nor for you to not have made your way to the breakfast table on the side.
"Breakfast is on the side, darling," Elspeth says with an almost forcibly bright air, but falters as you call out that you've got it.
"You don't need to do that -" Oliver mumbles awkwardly, but is cut off when Venetia starts actually barking at you with a wide, mean smile.
This time, Felix picked up one of the cooked tomato halves from his plate, squishing it in his hand over Venetia's new cup of tea, letting the pulpy remains splatter into her now second ruined drink that she couldn't cover fast enough.
"How would you like your eggs?" Duncan ignores the petty siblings as the poor service staff once more whisk away Venetia's teacup, much to her exasperation. Oliver looks to the butler nervously, wondering if this was a joke or a test, assuring him that he could get them himself, but it's Farleigh who cuts in, voice like ice.
"The eggs are made for you," he explains coldly, barely looking up from whatever he had been working from, but his gaze flicks from Oliver's nervous expression to you, over his shoulder, carrying a plate loaded with food and scowling at him and his tone. Finally, convinced that it wasn't a joke, Oliver awkwardly asks for fried eggs from Duncan, who complies, and simply seems glad that the interaction had ended. When you put the plate down in front of Oliver, he glances up at you, almost looking apologetic.
"You really didn't have to -"
"I know," you responded cheerfully, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "you can get yourself breakfast for the whole rest of Summer, but it's your first day."
"You're very kind, very good to me," Oliver looks up at you through his lashes, blue eyes shining, grateful, stumbling through his words, "you- you're very good." For just a moment there's a flash of something more deliberate in his eyes that the others don't seem to see, and he watches the way the praise hits you with intent.
"Oh my god," Venetia groans across the table, "it's like you want me to bark at you -"
"Venetia, I have more tomatoes," Felix warned without even looking at her, but pointing sharply to emphasise his words. You thanked him airily as you returned to your seat and he beamed at you while his sister called you both terribly childish. She did not appreciate being reminded that she was the one barking in the first place.
It's Felix who breaks the tension to tell Oliver about the earlier discussion about the Percy Shelley biography, but it's Venetia who brings up the story of the poet's doppelganger. As she regales them all with the story of the housekeeper seeing the image of Shelley waving at him out of the window before realising the poet was in Italy and he was on the third floor, she tells it as if it's simply some scandalous gossip. Felix Catton, in possession of something of a rabbit heart when it came to anything remotely spooky, begged his sister to stop, even going so far as to cover his ears, but she seemed to enjoy getting under his skin, blithely ending the story with the housekeeper drowning only hours after the event.
While Elspeth announces that the story gave her goosebumps, and you admit it did send a shiver down your spine, Farleigh blurts out, without looking up from his notebook -
"I heard he fucked his sister."
While Sir James clearly didn't appreciate the addition, it's surprisingly Oliver who finds his voice.
"I think that was Byron."
The certainty of the correction is enough to get Farleigh to actually look up from his work. That's not how this was meant to go, at least that's what you think is on Farleigh's mind. Very rarely was Farleigh corrected at Saltburn; either the Catton's weren't as well researched on whatever he was spouting nonsense about, or they simply didn't care, but the point is Farleigh wasn't corrected at Saltburn. Farleigh could get away with the little white lies he told for fun here. He certainly wasn't fact checked by a newcomer at breakfast with the whole family.
When Oliver looks away from Farleigh, across to you and Felix, he sees the near identical smug little smiles you're both giving him. Both of you look rather pleased, and you see him almost grow rather flustered across the table. At least until Duncan sets a plate of fried eggs down in front of him.
Oliver's face falls, fork prodding the warm, gooey yolks almost like he's cautious of them.
You're back to watching, to observing and cataloguing further information about your guest. Runny eggs make Oliver sick; he looks it too, or perhaps that's simply the discomfort that comes from knowing he'll have Duncan's intense presence looming over him to take away what he'd just so kindly brought. Skin prickling with discomfort and desire to help, despite knowing there was nothing you could do, you fidget and try to finish your own food.
"Think I might head down for a swim after this," you hadn't, but you needed to say something to break the silence. Venetia and Felix are both quick to jump on the idea with enthusiasm, and Farleigh reluctantly agrees, if only to not feel left out. Across from you all, Oliver's trying to make himself as small as possible as he works on the breakfast you'd brought him. Never assuming, always waiting for an invitation, even now - "you game, Ollie?" You grinned.
Of course he was.
All you could think about as you searched for your nice bathers was how different Oliver was from last night. Then, your mind wandered back to that conversation, to all he had said, all he had implied. Catching a glimpse of Felix, already ready in just his swim trunks, towel slung over his shoulder, leaning and looking so effortlessly gorgeous and tanned already in the doorframe, you think of Oliver's implications. Clearly he'd seen enough of the two of you in private to understand the extent of your actual relationship, and considering the shit you got away with in public, and how both you and Felix admittedly couldn't be too bothered with things like closing the blinds when you have other things on your mind, you've got something of an idea of what Oliver may have seen. No, it wasn't appropriate for polite company.
But he'd slept with you, had seen and possibly heard you with Felix, and clearly had a thing for Felix himself. Why was he holding back? Why was he continuing to tease you the way he had last night? What kind of game was he playing?
Fine, if Oliver wanted to be a tease, wanted to play games, you could more than match his energy.
One of the many skills you'd picked up from a life spent next to the effortlessly attractive Felix, was learning how to put in the effort to appear effortlessly attractive even in comparison, in any situation. Of course you were hot, that was a given, but there was an art to the way you moved and smiled and behaved and posed and focused attention on yourself like it was a science you'd absolutely perfected.
Which is how Oliver, the last to arrive to the little, wooden jetty by the lake, found you laying out, glittering and glistening with water as the droplets clung to you, had your flattering bathers clinging to you in just the right way. Feet hanging over the edge, you arch your back just enough to tilt your head back, to watch him approaching upside down. Hands appearing casual, but carefully placed, one rested on your hip and lower belly, while the other reached out to give him a wave, your smile wide and sharp.
The others greet him, and though his gaze momentarily flicks to them, it always returns to you. Your back arches higher as you laugh, almost lifting you up to sitting, but you lay flat when he's on the jetty, when he's standing over you with a curious look.
"Hello gorgeous Ollie," you say with a teasing grin, "was beginning to get worried we might have lost you in there," you tell him, at least trying to look like you were trying to keep your expression serious, "its a big house."
"Are you high again?" He asks, and your smile grows all wide and sharp and amused. You shake your head.
"Why?"
"No reason," he says after a beat. Again there's quiet, apart from Felix and Farleigh squabbling over something trivial back on the grass. Oliver examines you, unashamedly letting his gaze roam down your body, the way you've displayed yourself so almost casually.
"Everything alright, Ollie?" You ask after a moment, reaching out to gently touch the side of his knee, contact, reminding him all at once to get out of his head, that this was reality. But your voice drops low enough that the others wouldn't hear, hand coming away, breaking the contact as you level a Cheshire smile at him, "is there something you want?"
Already it's worth it, since you see the exact moment Oliver realises what you're playing at. There's a sharp intake of breath, but an appreciative look in his eyes that quickly flick down your body once more. Then, he turns away, face quickly turning red as you all but cackle with glee.
The game has begun.
If all Oliver Quick could bring himself to do was watch, you'd put on a fucking show.
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Thief
@would-we-be-friends-if-i asked:
Parker (world renowned thief, enjoys rappelling/jumping off of extreme heights and crawling through air vents, gymnastic skills galore)
@pomrania writes:
Parker can escape anything and is also deeply weird.
@r0sequarks writes:
Parker is here to steal something; she’s probably in and out without being noticed. Even if Dracula does catch her I think her default is to run away and she is perfectly suited for it. Completely skips over all of the actual plot except wall-scaling.
@darthlordcommie writes:
Parker: Out the window day one. She doesn't like following social rules, so she'd book it as soon as she got bad vibes.
@wanderingandfound writes:
Parker is the only one getting out of there. Don't know if she survives the wolves. But you cannot keep Parker somewhere she doesn't wanna be kept.
---------------------------------------------------
So Castle Dracula has new locks, a sheer wall, and a big pile of treasure. This isn't the Horrors, this is Christmas come early.
I am utterly charmed by the idea of Parker breaking in, stealing Dracula's hoard, and lizarding her way back out again as quickly and quietly as she had come, without ever being noticed. She absolutely would, and it's what Dracula deserves. I've noted elsewhere that Breaking & Entering is the one power our heroes have that Dracula crucially lacks (which is perhaps why Van Helsing does so dang much of it) - he needs to get burglarized more actually.
But okay, what if Parker arrives as Dracula's invited guest? I think her biggest challenge will be keeping herself from stabbing Dracula with forks for laying hands on her. She has exploitable insecurities, but she really is just so inherently weird and closed off about herself that I think Dracula would have difficulty discovering and exploiting them. When Parker sees him out on the walls it earns her grudging respect rather than repulsing her. And then she decides to go check out the room he just vacated and finds the treasure hoard. It's the best day ever.
And yeah. Parker cannot be contained. She never sees herself as a prisoner, it's like "ooh, enrichment." And then she judges him for not investing in better locks. She's mystified about why she can't manage to unlock the front door, or lift the key off of Dracula (he had it a second ago, WTF), but whatever, the window is more fun anyway. The only thing keeping it from being perfect is the lack of vents. She leaves as soon as she gets the treasure, so like. May 13th.
And she leaves during the day, because Parker is superstitious, and this guy is clearly a creepy vampire. Look at those teeth! When she tells the others about it later they're like "Parker, we love you but not every weirdo with big teeth is a vampire." And she's like no but he was though. Anyway look at all these sweet roman coins I got. And it's like classic Parker, believing in vampires, but yeah those coins are super sweet.
But yes, Parker can survive Castle Dracula, almost trivially, and she has a really great time. Hey guys, we should get a Castle! (Babe, there's no wifi and no centralized heating ... and no vents. Awww, you're no fun :( *Parker Pout* )
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astaroth1357 · 3 months
Text
Flipping the Script: Leviathan Progression (Human World AU)
Previously: After a baggage mishap at the airport, you and your cosplay group found the perfect replacement for your Lord of Shadows! Rejoice, as now a demon has your number! (Not that you know that)
Contents: Second person (you), fluff, MC is an otaku, MC is down bad, mutual pining between idiots
Part One, Part Two (You are here), Part Three (Coming Soon)...
~♡♡♡~
Levi met up with you and your team for the photoshoot that day, and it couldn’t have gone better!
As promised, you spent your first visit to the vendors room with him as part of his compensation for helping you out. What you hadn’t expected was for him to be quite so funny during your time together.
He had an infectious energy about him… Especially when talking about the shows and hobbies that he liked to indulge in. Coincidently, they happened to line up with a lot of your interests as well, so there was a nearly endless conversations between you two.
By the time the rest of your team tracked you down to do a scheduled fan signing, you and Levi had already gotten lunch at a themed café and exchanged online handles to play games together back at the hotel. Then they had to sit and suffer through you rambling about just how sweet and hilarious he was...
Even after the convention, the two of you kept up a very steady contact. Weekly game nights were an absolute must and he occasionally would join chats with you if you decided to stream. Leviachan, as you'd happily begun to call him, became a fast regular in your DMs and on your chat history.
You were surprised that for all of Levi's skill, he didn’t have the same kind of social media presence that you had to share his cosplay. You offered multiple times to bring him in for collabs together, but…
Well, Levi was always super cagey with you about just WHERE he lives or even where he was born in! When you first asked, he said it was, “J-just a small place somewhere out there! Nowhere important.”
To some extent, you understood his desire for privacy, so you've never really pried, but it still felt so odd that he wouldn’t even give you a country… Not even a time zone! Whenever you wanted to call him, he’d always just “up.” Did he ever sleep??
What information you could gain from him was mainly family-related. He had six brothers, no Mom, and an estranged Dad. The one you saw on the day you met him, Malcolm, was the second oldest and their relationship seemed… complicated.
It wasn’t until you both decided to do a video call to play a game he sent you that you got to first meet the others...
You had your computer booting up the copy of Demonlands 2 that Levi sent for you to play while the window for your video call rang for him to pick up. It was another typical Friday game night for you, though you decided not to stream in favor of having a chill night of fun with Levi. He had been talking up this as one of his comfort games for a long while, though you had never heard of it yourself, so when he offered to give you copy you sprang for it! Over the months you’d gotten to know the shy otaku, you’d learned to put paramount trust in his recommendations. He really knew his stuff, anime AND game-wise, so listening to him was like having your own personal guru.
You slid your headphones on and got comfortable in your chair right as Levi’s end picked up and the corner of your monitor displayed the smiling face of the man who'd quickly grown to become your best friend. The ambient blue light of his room tinged the violet in his hair a shade of indigo, but left the sunset shade of his eyes more or less intact. You'd already expressed some jealousy to Levi over his sweet setup... what parts of it he's been willing to show you anyway. He'd given you the digital tour of his figurines, manga, and games collections, as well as showing you little Henry. You had no idea someone would commit to an aquatic aesthetic so hard that they’d actually sleep in a bathtub, but at the same time it felt so very… Levi. Nothing in his bedroom was like anything you'd ever seen before, like, who actually sleeps next to an aquarium tank?? Maybe his family were the eccentric type…
“Hey, Y/n! Sorry that I'm picking up late.”
“No, it’s fine! I was grabbing a snack earlier. Did something happen?”
“No, nothing important.”
You watched Levi start checking over his monitor through the screen while mindlessly twisting the black wire of your headphones between your fingertips. When you first started to play games together, these little silences between you would feel awkward and Levi would scramble to get find anything he could to fill them. To alleviate the tension, you’d play a shared playlist of your favorite otacore or ani-songs to make him more comfortable, but for the last month or so he hadn’t needed it as much. The silences were now… pleasant. You could take your time with each other like real friends could and it felt pretty nice.
Most of your offline friends knew how embarrassingly down bad you'd become for this guy. You hoped your cosplay audience hadn't picked up on it yet, but there would always be those comments that point out how you gush about him whenever he offered you a new accessory for your outfits… If you guys had a ship name, you didn’t know it'd be yet.
Not that you had any ideas about it or anything. You? Ship yourself with your best friend?? Absolutely not! Like, who would actually do that-?
“Y/n?”
“Huh??”
Levi's voice interjected itself into your thoughts, making you fumble with the headphone wire as you recovered.
“Hey, are you alright? You were just staring off there…”
Now back in reality, you stuttered out an embarrassed apology to your confused friend and try to smile it off.
“Oh yeah, Levi, I'm alright. It's just a long week, so I'm ready for some gaming!”
You prayed that the bubbly feeling in your chest wasn't also showing on your face when you watched his expression light up. That determined smile was more than half of the reason you agreed to these game nights of yours when he first brought up the idea. He took to giving you a good time as passionately as a great DM runs their campaign and you appreciated the hell out of him for it... Having a life on social media and being in the public eye could absolutely drain a person, but with Levi you could just relax and recharge with the stuff you loved…
“Okay, Y/n, do you have everything running?”
“Yep! Got it all installed last night.”
“Great! Go ahead and open the co-op menu and-"
His voice got cut off in your headphones by the sound of a sharp knock coming from behind him. Levi's eyes briefly grew to the size of saucers as they darted over his shoulder then back at your image onscreen.
“Levi...? What's wrong?”
“Nothing! Uh… J-just a second!”
You watched him lurch over his desk and fumble with his mouse until eventually the camera feed cut to black. You were definitely getting concerned, since Levi had almost never reacted that way to an outside noise before, but soon your worry morphed into curiosity. A sing-song voice called out through your headphones, one you had never heard before, and after checking the chat window you realized that, yep…
Levi forgot to mute the call.
“Oh Levi~! What made you think we're done talking? Is that your little friend in there??”
The man's voice was at a higher pitch than Levi's and he sounded pretty… annoyed. Or at least insistent about something. You heard the sound of door hinges swinging open, followed by Levi's much more exasperated tone.
“Go away, Asmo-gak! Why are all of you here!?”
A new voice joined the fray, this one was much softer than the other two. They spoke at a languid pace, slow like honey pouring from a bottle. Did he just wake up or something...?
“We thought you've been talking to a computer this whole time, but Mammon says that they're a real person…”
“Yeah, I’ve seen'em too! Tell'em Levi!”
That one you knew had to be Malcolm! There was no mistaking the energetic punch to his words, but who the heck was Mammon?? You didn’t recall meeting him too…
“Ugh, yes! They're real, but no you can’t all see them! We just started a new game, so go away!!”
“Uhm, Levi?”
Your question must have come through the speakers because, for moment, the sudden silence on the other end was deafening… then all hell broke loose at once.
Another voice spoke up now, one that sounded a lot deeper and almost velvety coming through your headphones.
“Was that them just now?”
Another responds, also deep, but muffled? As if they're trying to speak past a mouthful of marshmallows…
“Mmnph-‘ink so-mmmgh…”
The higher voice chimed in well over them both.
“Oh, we should go say hi!! What do you think, Levi? You can't keep teasing us like this!”
The blank screen on your monitor was starting to kill you seemingly as much as it was them… You desperately wanted some kind of explanation, but more importantly…!
“Levi, who's over there? Are those your brothers?!”
Your ears perked from the a collective gasp you heard on the other end, then the excitable one spoke again.
“They know about us???”
“NO!! N-not everything! Please leave-!!”
You'd be lying if you said that Levi's shout hadn't hurt you right then… It felt like a little crack went tink right on your heart! Had he been keeping you a secret from them this whole time? Was he embarrassed? Or did he not trust you to know too much about himself…? Was it your platform that he was scared of??? You had never broadcasted anything he hadn’t given permission about ahead if time… You wouldn't dare to dox him!! Though you could understand if that was his reasoning, the secrecy still kind of hurt…
“W-wait, Levi, I’ve always wanted to see more of your family...! Why not let them in? Please? We can still play right afterwards!”
“Huh?? But Y/n-!!”
“You heard'em, Levi! Let us through!”
A mass of shuffling filled your headphones while you waited with baited breath. You had even leaned in so close to your monitor that when the window flashed back on, you were briefly blinded by all of the colors at once! It took a few moments for you to make out all five pairs of eyes staring back through the screen. Each boy seemed to be crammed up against Levi's computer desk like lab students all forced to share the same microscope... To your surprise, not a single one of them looked like Levi or even like each other! You probably should have guessed, considering Malcom (who was seated center stage, having stole Levi's gamer chair for himself) looked nothing like him before, but you wouldn’t have guessed all 5 would differ quite as drastically… Would the sixth look that different as well?
“Uhm… hi?”
You tried to smile again to make a good impression, but it was hard to do while feeling like a living petri-dish. You were used to having eyes on you, but this was another level. Perhaps it was the added pressure of not wanting to look bad in front of a good friend's family, but it also could have also been the sheer intensity of their gaze… Levi could get this way too sometimes and it always felt like his orange-hued irises could almost see right through you... Especially if he just lost a game. In those times, his intimidating edge gave you a bit of a thrill. It'd feel like you just bested a dangerous beast in combat, but against ten eyes it was overwhelming… Each one bore right through you as if to examine your very soul…
“Huh,” a blonde one peering over Malcom's right shoulder was the first to speak up. His eyebrows were raised practically off of his forehead in surprise. “So they are real, then.”
The shortest boy, squished up against Malcom as if trying to steal center frame, clasped his hands over his heart and cooed back towards the doorway.
“Aww, Levi, look at that! You actually have a friend now!! And a real cutie, too~ Hello, hun!”
“Yeah, but why do they look like a human…?”
You watched guys instantly stiffen up as all eyes shifted towards a dark-haired boy clutching a spotted pillow just barely in view. It was hard for you to see his face, since it was only half on screen and even then some of it was behind his pillow, yet you could detect something… cold in it. He sounded annoyed, but you couldn’t place why… Was he seriously expecting you to be an AI or something?
To your surprise, the pillow guy was swiftly yanked out of frame and replaced by Levi, though you couldn’t see much of his face either. Only that he was holding onto the pillow guy's sleeved arm rather tightly as he spoke.
“Of course they're human! Not a 2D person or just a computer, but human like the rest of us… Right?”
You'd never heard such a dark edge come over Levi’s tone before. Not even in jest! It must have been rare for his brothers to hear as well, because most stared at him with equally shocked expressions. The arm in Levi's grasp yanked itself away and you heard footsteps head towards the door… but the other brothers stayed where they were. Another long silence flooded in, somethibg that felt far more uncomfortable than any you had experienced with Levi before, until a (frankly) massive dude chewing on a huge slab of jerky spoke up behind Malcolm.
“If they're nice to Levi, that's enough for me.” He inhaled the rest of the jerky into his mouth (which you didn’t quite detect him chewing) before he was already smiling at you with the kind of warmth that you'd see saved up only for the sappiest of shojo scenes. “Hello, thank you for being Levi's friend.”
The rest of the boys all exchanged glances with each other, then a similar kindness took over their faces too. Gone were the piercing stares of just a moment ago, and instead you only felt a welcoming energy radiating out from your monitor. As if sensing the change too, Levi finally came into view of the camera. He leaned down by Malcolm in the spot the pillow guy left open, grinning at you in that way only he really could.
“Y/n... These are my brothers.”
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solar-sunnyside-up · 2 months
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I'm really curious about what you think schooling would look like in a Solarpunk world/future!
Because the current public school system is broken af and the homeschool system isn't much better. I personally have looked into things like Sudbury schools and found good things and also issues. I've always been a proponent of the IDEA of Unschooling (which I understand to be, letting the child learn naturally through the world around them, learn reading through reading to them or teaching math and even basic chemistry through teaching them to cook, etc) but it seems like most parents use it as an excuse to not educate their kids...
I really think kids should learn practical things alongside the Academic stuff (three Rs, science, etc) but no system seems right...
Oooh boy! Have I thought about this one endlessly!
So background info that I have to frame where I'm coming from-
A- the current system is built for school>> factory worker pipeline
B) it also evolved from ppl working at factories and needing to put their kiddos somewhere while they worked their 9-5! Thus Sunday school evolved from something to teach basic literacy to a full time job for children (it's legit nearly 40 hour weeks for CHILDREN) so there's a lot of padded time to ensure they meet that quota
C) it's used of a massive scale it was NOT designed to be used at
Soooo!! Let's imagine a better one!
Personally, based on children's development I think schooling should be broken up into focused chunks and then obvi each kiddo should be able to work at their own pace within these chunks of time.
0-6 Motor and sensory skills- introduced to music/shapes/building, "helping" with community chores (laundry/windows/dishes/sweeping), basics of plants/gardens, learning about transportation and basic navigation.
7-10 Written- literacy (reading/printing/telling time/storytelling/etc), health (emotional+physical), basic cooking + tool usage, basics of history/geography, basics of all sciences, gardening more independently
11-13 social + advanced work -- advanced history/science/literacy/home eco/etc.. start working within the community in a vollunteer capacity, Starting to specialize in interests, focuses in philosophy/analysis/debate,
14-20 community and citizenship --greated focus in Philosophy/debate/analysis in addition to apprenticeships of testing out what they'd like to do with their lives
20+ whatever they wanna do! Personally I think our adulthood should start over from 0 here. Bc after you hit 20 your a baby adult, but like a 35yr old is nearly a teenager as should be treated as such! Finding themselves, building community, getting the swing of all that jazz.
Then the WAY this is taught would be with ppl close to the kiddos, neighbors and parents and community leaders would be in charge of these chunks. Much more like a tutor or professor style where each teacher specializes in both the thing their teaching but also the kiddos their raising.
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thought--bubble · 3 months
Text
In Need Of An Heir Pt 5
Aemond (Canon Era) X (Baratheon! Reader)
Warnings after the cut
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Warnings:: Forced marriage. Some fluff 😍
'Is he.....smiling at me?' You think to yourself unable to hide the look of confusion on your face. 'He couldn't possibly be smiling right now'
He notes your look of confusion and drops the smile reverting back to his usual cold, stoic look. He straightens his back and looks at you, though it looks more like he is looking through you than at you.
The Septon recites the marriage rites, but you aren't listening. You are staring at Aemond trying to get a read on him. Why was he smiling? What is he planning?
They tie a ribbon around your hands his cold boney hand under yours, and your Baratheon cloak is removed and quickly replaced with a Targaryen cloak. A cloak that feels so heavy on your shoulders your tempted to shake the damn thing off.
Then Aemond leans in for the kiss, and you just freeze. He looks at you quizzically but closes the gap, placing a chase kiss to your lips. It's so quick that you hardly felt it, but that's all it took. You're now his wife. Bound to him by law and the gods.
You feel a slight pride within yourself. you know it was pointless to fight this but the fact that you didn't lean in for the kiss had you feeling like you at the very least fought till the last breath. You won't pretend this is something you want. You will do your duty as is required by your father, the realm and the society in which you exist but if you are to do it, you want everyone to know you aren't happy about it.
Everyone is smiling and clapping as you make your way out of the Sept hand still tied to his, and you can't help but laugh. This is absurd. They act as if this is a celebration when, in reality its a jail sentence. Your crime being that you were born a woman.
There is a carriage waiting for just you and Aemond. The very first time, the two of you will be truly alone. The idea is daunting, but alas, you have no choice. He unties the ribbon around your hand setting you free for a moment before he grasps your fingers to help you up the small stairs and into the carriage. As you sit down, a wave of anxiety and annoyance flows over you. He enters behind you and takes a seat across from you.
Once he sits and the door is closed, silence falls over the carriage as the two of you silently look at each other.
For Aemond, the silence is unbearable he found himself wracking his brain, desperate to come up with some topic for discussion. For you, however, the silence was fine. Preferred, actually. It may be your duty to house Baratheon to marry this man, but it certainly wasn't your duty to walk him through proper social etiquette. If he lacked that skill, that's a problem all his own.
"Did....did you enjoy the ceremony?" Aemond asks wearily. He has a cool stoic look, but the twitching of his hands tells a slightly different story.
"As much as one could given the circumstances" you decide to look out the small window of the carriage in order to avoid eye-contact with the prince.
he sighs and taps his finger on his thigh. He did not imagine it would be this difficult to engage you in conversation. He was under the assumption that you would be grateful for the attention from him. As a lot of highborn ladies have been over the years if he was to engage them. This attitude he was not prepared for.
"Do you like the necklace?" he keeps his eye trained on the sapphire sitting on your chest.
"Yes." you respond without looking away from the window.
Aemond briefly rubs his temples in frustration but remains silent for the remainder of the ride back up to the red keep.
When the carriage arrives Aemond swiftly exits the carriage standing next to the steps holding his hand out for you. You gently grasp his fingers as you make your way down the steps. when you go to release his hand his fingers wrap around yours gently pulling you to his side.
He doesn't make eye contact as he wraps your arm around his, your brain is screaming for you to rip your arm from him and demand he not touch you, but in the interest of not making a scene and embarrassing your house you allow him to lead you to the feast. not a word is spoken the entire walk but Aemond rubs the tips of your fingers that are wrapped around his arm in a kind of comforting gesture.
This again has you confused. What exactly is he trying to do here?
The two of you enter the feast as the guests of honor. You are the first to arrive. Aemond walks you to the head table. He is to sit to the right of the king. While his mother, the dowager queen, will sit to the right. Jaehaera will sit next to her, and current hand Criston Cole will sit next to Jaehaera. You, of course, will be seated on the other side of your husband.
Aemond gently guides you to your seat and pulls out the chair for you, and you sit promptly, a growing feeling of unease at the amount of kindness he is showing you.
He slowly sinks down into the chair next to you and looks straight ahead as guests start to fill the room.
"I wish not to frighten you, just as I wish not to make you unhappy"
You don't respond but turn your head to look at him.
He continues to look straight ahead as he speaks. "I have not been the perfect man, and I understand that if you had a choice in the matter, you would not be sitting here now." He finally turns and looks at you."I am willing to accept your guidance on how I could make this..... arrangement more pleasant for you"
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, pondering his words.
He continues, "My mother was most unhappy. I do not wish to be to you the burden my father was to her."
he looks forward as Aegon is carried into the room and stands up, taking your hand as you join him.
"I'll make you a list," you say, watching Aegon be brought closer and closer.
"A list?" Aemond questions turning to you and raising an eyebrow.
"A list of the things that will make this more pleasant"
"Hmmmm," he clicks his tongue as Aegon is placed. "Very well"
When the King is sat, he doesn't make any grand speech or say anything other than a quick congratulations with a joke about his brother in the bedchamber, much to Aemond's displeasure.
Since the wedding was so rushed, there weren't more than 25 guests. A few lords dancing with their wives and Royce dancing with all of their daughters and looking gleeful as he does.
"We should dance. At least once" Aemond suggests looking on at the dancing couples.
You hesitate briefly but ultimately decide to give him a little bit of an inch. It's not a full inch. Of course, this man is still not to be trusted, but he seems to want to try and you think that maybe you should too.
"I apologize already, I'm not much of a dancer." You laugh lightly but stand.
"Me either, but no one will laugh. Not out loud anyway. " he gives you a half lipped grin and takes your hand, leading you down to the floor where the other couples are dancing.
You know now that he was being humble as he gracefully glides with you in his arms. He doesn't miss a beat or step one foot out of place he stands a vision of regality.
The celebration comes to a close much too quickly for your liking because there is only one place left to go. Aemond dismisses all notions about any kind of bedding ceremony stating he would not have any eyes but his own upon his wife in an undressed state for which you were thankful.
He takes your arm and leads you from the celebration to what is now going to be your shared chambers. Luckily you would both still have chambers of your own to run to but in these chambers. You were to be husband and wife, in all sense of those titles.
Your feet feel like they are made of lead as you walk slower and slower toward the bedchamber. You had been warned that even the kindest of men could be greedy in the bedchamber and Aemond was certainly not the kindest of men.
He opens the door to the chambers and dismisses the two chamber maids that were waiting there to assist you in removing your wedding gown stating any help you needed you would get from him.
When they leave and he shuts the door behind him he sighs.
"Lets just start with some wine shall we?"
Part 6
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lady-rose-moon · 4 months
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I would love to see how you write Loki X shy reader. Like she’s obviously so into him and he just loves to watch her get all flustered
Meet me in the elevator || Avenger!Loki x Reader ||
↣ MASTERLIST
𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3.7k
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Since moving into Avengers Tower last year after being rescued from HYDRA, you’ve developed close friendships with the main Avengers, loving to spend most of your time around Wanda or Natasha. They all knew that you didn’t handle well in public settings, talking with new people - hell, it was difficult to just talk to them sometimes, never mind people you’d never met before. 
You were settled into a room on the twenty-fifth floor, alongside Thor. It stayed that way for a while before Thor returned from Asgard one day with Loki on his arm. For Loki’s credit, he looked as pleased to be there as the Avengers were to see him there. You, on the other hand, stayed very quiet through the argument that came next, taking moments to just admire the new addition with curiosity. Something inside you told you that you weren’t supposed to be intimidated by the highly intimidating God before you. 
“But shouldn’t he be sent to S.H.I.E.L.D? Or- maybe whoever we are supposed to send him to should he return,” Steve was asking, your mind bringing you unwillingly back to the present, your eyes straying away from the man who appeared to be the person at fault for New York 2012. 
“If he is handed over to them, they will waste no time in attempting to experiment on him and his power,” Thor answered, his eyes serious and focused on not just Steve but everyone in the room, “Father has ordered his imprisonment here within the tower where we will keep him subdued. Should you turn him away, I am to find alternative lodgings.” 
The Avengers took a moment, unspoken arguments crossing around the room before Tony relented, hanging his head and uttering the damning words, “fine, give him the room next to yours, Thor.” 
Your admiration stopped within a millisecond. The room next to Thor’s was exactly opposite yours! Slowly, you slid down the sofa until you were fully laid down and silently groaned to yourself. Of course, you’re shacked with a Thunder God and his Godly terrorist brother.  
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Following Loki’s sudden appearance within the tower, you spent more time avoiding the 25th floor. You avoided it as if it were the plague, going so far as to fall asleep in the common room of the tower just so that you wouldn’t be on the same floor as Loki.  
The God didn’t look happy when Thor forced him down to meals every day, claiming that getting Loki into such a routine would be good for his mental health and would help his ‘healing’. You watched every day as Loki sat opposite you, emerald eyes downcast and his posture closed off, unwanting of any attention. Perhaps, you thought, he was like you these days? 
You didn’t stick around long enough to actually find out if your theory was correct, however, as once you were done eating, you excused yourself and quickly fled to the library on the 16th floor. 
The library was your safe space away from the ruckus of the Avengers and their mission discussions, the quiet of the library calmed a part of you that you never realised needed to be calmed. Since you had woken up in your cell within the HYDRA base with no memory of your life before, your social skills had been severely affected, only opening up after weeks of people trying to get you to open up. 
Finding the library after being rescued by the Avengers shortly after the Sokovia incident was a breath of fresh air. From the moment you stepped into the two-floor library, Friday had made sure to play classic music as soon as you entered, easing the stress within you as you scoured the shelves. Since then, you have been happy to visit the library to escape the Avengers and lately; Loki. 
The sun shone through the floor-length windows as it reached its peak for the day, the warmth enveloping you as you happily walked through the multiple shelves, your fingers absently brushing against the spines. Perhaps I should try to bring someone here, you thought, recalling speaking with Wanda about the library and smiling at the fascination on her face at the prospect of advancing her magic through books Thor had brought from Asgard. 
~~ 
The silence reigned in the tower during meal times for weeks after Loki’s arrival, it was a statement that everybody was uncomfortable with the God being around. Loki, for the most part, seemed as if he didn’t give a shit about their opinions about him. You’d begun to differentiate his movements from the others, seeing how he got up to get his Asgardian tea prepared exactly three minutes after Banner had poured his coffee and walked away. How Loki would reach for a sandwich shortly after Barton had grabbed six of them, handing three to Natasha to prevent poisoning. How, even though he looked unbothered, there was that subtle glint of loneliness. 
~~ 
It had been weeks since your magic had surfaced, weeks since you’d been able to delve into somebody’s mind. Wanda had taught all of the Avengers how to block themselves mentally against your powers so that not only you could have a better night's sleep but so they could as well.  
However, you did not expect to fall into Loki’s dreams.  
One moment you were in your own dreams, the next you were standing in a golden throne room. You hid behind a pillar to avoid being discovered, fearing that you’d been snatched by someone. 
“What do you want?” there was a voice ahead of you, your view obstructed by the pillar you were hiding behind but when you peeked past it, you saw Frigga, Thor’s mother and therefore Loki’s too. She had a soft frown on her lips, her head tilted slightly as she approached her son, her hand reaching up to caress the terrorist’s cheek. 
Your heart stuttered in shock at the discovery. You hadn’t imagined Loki would allow someone close to him but then again, she was his mother, it made sense in a way. 
“I…” Loki began and your heart stuttered again but it wasn’t shock, it was a feeling you’d never felt before. You’d never heard his voice before other than the scary videos you were shown when you joined the Avengers, discovering their past. He sounded British, yet he was Norse along with Thor, then again, Thor had a sort of Australian accent when you focused enough. 
“I want my brother back,” Loki admitted, his head hung, vulnerability radiating off his body language as he admitted the weakness to his mother. You watched as Frigga’s face swiftly changed into an understanding smile before pulling him in for a hug. Still, Loki continued, his voice coated with grief, “I’m alone there, Mother, I do not want to be alone.” 
“It was better than the punishment Odin had planned for you, Loki,” Frigga whispered, her eyes shining with tears, “infinitely so.” 
You took in a sharp breath and that was all it took for Loki’s sharp eyes to meet yours and the room disappeared, replaced with a bedroom that looked almost identical to yours in Avengers Tower.  
“What are you doing here?” Loki snapped, his eyes hardened and his guard back up. He studied every fraction of your face, looking for the malice he knew you’d have, looking for the blackmail to begin, looking for the taunting. Yet, he found nothing. 
Since his arrival, he had taken note of your presence, never once considering you’d be anything like the Witch or Vision. Yet here you stood, in his dreams. Loki grimaced as you stayed silent, his head tilting ever so slightly, mimicking Frigga’s previous actions. “Answer me,” he snapped after a few moments, annoyed by your ignorance. 
You trembled as you stared up into Loki’s eyes, your nerves taking control of your body and preventing you from speaking up. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the wet tear tracks that slid down his face, shining in the light that was coming in from the open curtains. Then your eyes fell to Loki’s decorated tunic, noting the hints of gold woven into the threads and the green accents everywhere.  
“You’re staring, pet,” Loki purred, stepping closer to you, intrigue apparent in his features. He’d never seen someone take this much interest in his appearance before. Sure, he’d had wenches back in Asgard to quench his need but never had they admired him the way this girl was doing. It stirred something in Loki, a challenge.  
You stammered, attempting to find a way to plead your case before realising it was futile. You wouldn’t be able to find any way to explain this, not with your tongue being tied and your fears rising. So, instead of speaking, you snapped away from his dreams and sat upright in bed. 
Brushing a hand through your hair, you took a deep breath before retreating into your bathroom. Since it was the early hours of the morning, you’d abuse the silence of the tower and roam how you wanted. 
As you left the room, you were unaware of the emerald green eyes following you from the doorway of the room opposite your own.  
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You seemed to run into Loki a lot more after accidentally stumbling into his dreams a month ago. Whenever you’d step into the library, your eyes would be drawn to the floor-length windows where Loki was lying on the sofa with a book in hand, lazily turning pages. He gave you no mind, he didn’t even acknowledge you were there yet you still felt his eyes on you constantly. 
He was in the gym when you were trying to get some training done. Dressed in just a simple tunic and pants, going up against Steve, he looked the epitome of the female gaze. His hair was pulled back in a bun and his tunic was slightly wet with sweat. You huffed, trying your best not to get distracted by the alluring God fighting against the supersoldier but damn you couldn’t help getting a few glances at that ass. Definitely Asgard’s ass, you thought to yourself with an amused grin.  
“Y/N!” Steve called from the ring, running over to the edge as you turned to stare at him, your eyes wandering over his shoulder to meet Loki’s heated gaze and your body warmed, alight with need and interest but physically unable to say anything. 
“Yeah Steve?” you spoke up quickly, your eyes quickly shifting to meet Steve’s again. 
“Spar with Loki, I need a break,” the soldier spoke. He said it so casually, as if he wasn’t condemning you to at least fifteen minutes of torture in the ring with the object of your desires. Then again, Steve seemed to be oblivious to all the sexual tension happening within the Avengers. He didn’t even know about Wanda and Vision until he saw them kissing in the breakfast room! 
You sighed and nodded, getting into the ring and facing Loki. The God’s lips quirked up into a half-smirk as he took you in, his eyes hungrily roving over your body. The tank top you wore barely hid the sports bra below it, your leggings clinging to your legs sparking an interest deep in his abdomen. You drove him mad. You hadn’t visited his dreams since that night but damn, you haunted them still! 
“Are you ready, darling?” Loki purred, his voice sinking deep into your bones as he flexed his muscles, grinning to himself when he watched your eyes wander down his form, “you’re staring, Y/N.” 
Your body jerked up straight, freezing with nerves as you were caught in the act before you shook your head and got into position. 
Sparring with Loki brought out that inner calm that you didn’t know you had. Your mind was always whirring with ‘what if’ scenarios, pulling you under the waves if you allowed yourself to think about it for too long. Inside the ring, mirroring Loki’s movements, keeping eye contact and ignoring the hammering of your heart, you felt more like yourself than you had for years.  
When Loki grabbed you and pushed you to the floor, arousal streaked through your body as you were held firmly beneath him, his emerald eyes searing into your own, your heart racing and your mind racing a mile a minute trying to find a way that this can be explained platonically. He was just fighting you, he didn’t want a real reaction, totally not!  
Loki, for the most part, kept his attraction to you a secret but as you became a true competitor for him in the ring, he licked his lips at the challenge and eagerly fought back. When he pinned you to the mat, he saw the spark of arousal in your eyes and his grin morphed into a smirk. “TKO, darling,” he whispered seductively, watching your eyes flutter before you seemed to come back to yourself, bring yourself to your feet and scurry away. 
From behind him, Loki heard a groan and he chuckled to himself. “Is there a problem, Agent Romanoff?” he asked with a pleased hint to his voice, rolling his head and groaning at the satisfying cracks that could be heard. 
“Whatever you’re doing to her, Loki, I suggest you stop,” Romanoff warned, her eyes aflame as she stared at the God of Mischief, “she’s a good asset.” 
Innocently, Loki flashed a smirk at Romanoff before striding out of the training room, his bag and towel following after him surrounded by a green glow. 
~~ 
After  that, no matter where you were; somehow Loki was too! 
Even if you’d checked that he was in his room before heading out anywhere, he just appeared and soured your day. Well – not really, but you acted like it did. In the library, the gym, the kitchens or even out in the city as you got very stir crazy. 
Now, you're back in your quarters and you get your first real chance to relax for a moment with Loki constantly following you around. After a rough day, your mind is going a mile a minute as you go through all the different ways he's interacted with you lately. Sure, he could just be friendly and interested in getting to know someone new, but the way he looked at you... the way his eyes locked onto yours... was there something more? You refused to believe it. Loki, the God of Mischief, could never be attracted to you. 
Now that you had a moment to think, your stomach growled and you sighed at the realisation that you'd need to step out of your room yet again to get food. You could order but the temptation to get pizza or McDonald's would be too strong. Clicking the lock of your door, you stepped out into the dark hallway and made haste to the kitchens three floors below. Only when the elevator doors dinged open, you were greeted with the heated green gaze of the one God you did not want to see right now. 
"Loki," you whispered in shock before calming your racing heart and stepping into the elevator, pressing the 16th floor button, "how convenient that you are here." 
He flashes that grin at you that always seems to make your heart skip a beat. Loki casually leans against the opposite wall of the elevator and gazes at you with those enchanting emerald eyes. "Hardly, I just needed food. I suspect you did too?" he asks with that slight smirk.  
"That's a very nice outfit you're wearing, darling," he adds. His smile shifts slightly at your blush, that blush that is totally just a natural response and not from him teasing you at all. 
You stammered as the elevator descended. Those three floors feeling as if they take an eternity to get past in order to get to the common area. It wasn't really a nice outfit you were wearing, in all honesty. Just simple green joggers and a black shirt. Something you'd simply thrown on to venture downstairs. You weren't aware that you were wearing Loki's favourite colours, didn't know that you were blatantly displaying your affections for him through your clothing.  
"Thank you," you murmured so you didn't seem rude, hugging your arms before you gazed up at him and the red that tinted your cheeks deepened when you saw that Loki had not once looked away from you, even if you'd turned your head to the ground. 
He stares at you, trying to hide a grin at your evident embarrassment. He likes seeing you blush, and your shy nature certainly makes it easy to do so. Loki decides that he will have a little fun with this. "Tell me, darling," he asks. "Do you happen to like the colour green?" he asks, keeping that smile on his face, just waiting to see your reaction. 
Oblivious to the double meaning to his words, you eagerly nodded and grabbed at your joggers, proudly displaying them to the God of Mischief.  
"Yeah," you gushed, a goofy grin on your lips that pulled at Loki's heart, your eyes full of innocent pride, "always has been a favourite, always will be." 
He raises an eyebrow at you, his smile growing slightly with that innocent pride you have for what you're wearing. Loki decides to play along with your innocence and go to the next step. 
 "Why, darling," he says, his voice full of mock surprise. "You're not trying to signal that you like me, are you?" 
Heat once again rushed to your cheeks at the suggestion. Why would he ask that? Where had that ever been a signal that you liked him? Unless... no- it couldn't be. You remembered a conversation from months ago, Thor had suggested that women who wore red would always be seen as representing him in a way with their colour. Did Loki hold that belief too? 
Loki watches the way you react with great interest, and is amused by that adorable blush of yours. 
"Oh, darling," he replies. "I simply love a woman who knows how to show off their affection for a man. It's the ultimate form of respect." 
His expression shifts slightly, and he takes a small step closer to you. "What, does this little outfit you're wearing mean that you think of me so much that you don't mind the chance that others might see as you trying to court me?" he asks in a playful tone. 
"I- I- I didn't mean to-" you stammered; your cheeks flushed bright red by now yet again - though you supposed they'd never stopped being so since entering the elevator-. Your pride for your outfit faded, replaced by nervousness and a little bit of arousal for the God before you. His gaze seared into your soul, laid you bare before him, helpless to even process the fact that the elevator had long since stopped, the emergency stop button being pressed by Loki minutes ago. 
"You didn't mean to?" the God asks, feigning innocence despite knowing exactly the effect he's having on you. He takes another small step closer, still keeping that charming grin on his face as he looks at you with those enchanting eyes.  
 His hand comes up to your throat, and he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Maybe you should come back to my room, darling," he says in a soft voice, as if that suggestion is the most natural thing in the world. 
Your eyes widened in shock, your body trembling as if processed his request. He said it so naturally! How could he say that so casually?! So many questions raced through your mind as you stared up at him, your lip trembling as you struggled to find words to portray the whirlwind in your mind. Suddenly you realised you were trapped in this elevator with Loki for who knows how long, and you were ultimately playing a game of cat and mouse with the God of Mischief.  
"I don't- I can't- we- we're partners, Loki, what will the others think?" you whispered, trying to hard to shy away from the handsome God before you. 
He grins at you, amused at the sudden confusion you're feeling. He leans in even closer, his warm breath on your ear as he slowly leaned in closer to you. "Who cares what the others think?" he whispers. "They don't matter. Only we matter here. Don't you want me, darling?" he asks, his voice husky and full of the most hypnotic desire.  
 Loki's breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, lost in your beauty. "Give in... we have both waited too long, have we not?" he whispers. 
Biting your lip, you tried one last time to shy away from his affections but your movement was prevented by a large hand encompassing your throat and pulling you closer to him and soft lips were pressed to your own. Shock rippled through your body as you took in this sudden action before your mind became quiet and you melted into the kiss. 
He holds you close, a passionate grip with one of his arms wrapped around you so that you can feel the warmth of his body and his muscles as your lips mingle with his. 
As he pulls back from the kiss, Loki is visibly panting. "I can feel your heartbeat, darling," he whispers. "You like my presence all the more." You can't deny it. Loki seems to make your heart jump even more now. 
"I have wanted..." you hesitated, shame filling your body at the realisation that Loki had at least been interested in you for a while and you'd be avoiding him. "Since you came here, I have been intrigued by you then... one day... it was feelings and then... I tried to hide it," you whispered with a soft laugh, shaking your head and avoiding his gaze. 
Loki wraps you in a warm embrace, running his hands over your hair. "Darling, you're so adorable. Why ever would you try and hide this from me?" he asks, looking directly into your eyes. "Let me show you just how interested I am in you." 
 Loki's eyes shift to something you hadn't expected: hunger. His eyes were always beautiful, but now they were filled with raw desire. And it was focused entirely on you. 
Food forgotten, you pressed the button for your floor and wrapped your arms around Loki's neck, awaiting the arrival of your floor four floors above you. 
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foli-vora · 3 months
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congrats on 3k!! Not sure if you're still doing this, but can I request something smutty with agent whiskey with the prompt "can we go home yet?"
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Thank you for the request, my sweet! I'm so sorry for the time it took to get around to it, but I hope you enjoy! ❤️
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errands
jack daniels x f!reader
word count: 1.7k warnings: i love him sm, sweet husband jack will give you everything, jack being a sexy menace, semi public/parking lot activities, swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY: what's a domesticity kink called? idk, whatever it is we've got that. fingering, orgasm denial, can't not use this gif lmao
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The familiar churning of warmth in the pit of your stomach has followed you relentlessly throughout the day, despite you leaving your shared bed much later than socially acceptable after a long morning lost in Jack’s hold. There’s a gentle ache between your thighs from his dedicated efforts, the feeling never once letting your mind wander from the way he unravelled every part of your body and soul over and over.
And this? This wasn’t helping.
The confidence he oozed striding through the hardware store, knowing exactly what he wanted and where he would get it. The way he would ramble about the house renovation plans; what rooms could be what, where he could build you a little reading nook with a window overlooking the endless rolling green fields, or what materials he would need to make some floor to ceiling built in bookcases for your shared collection of books…
His excitement at dedicating his variety of skills into bringing your dream home to life is palpable, bringing forth such a fond tenderness to your chest that it makes you swear you couldn’t possibly love this man anymore if you tried. It rolls from him in waves now, as he wanders with his full cart of various renovation necessities and voicing his thoughts on what particular paint colours would match your shared vision.
It’s just all so sweet, so domestic.
It’s driving you wild.
Lips wrapping around the straw of your soda cup, you study the broad planes of his back, covered by his ever present leather jacket that thankfully stops just above the soft swell of his ass—bless that man for knowing how to pick his jeans. If it weren’t for the sweet elderly couple flicking through colour swatches at the end of the aisle, you simply would’ve crowded him into the shelves just for a much needed taste of his mouth, and maybe a quick feel—
“You listenin’ to me back there?”
“Not really,” you admit honestly, tongue rolling across your lower lip as he gives you a playful frown of disapproval from over his shoulder. That familiar heat rises and swells in your core, and you shift impatiently on your feet. “Can we go home yet?”
He chuckles, reaching out to pluck a paintbrush from the shelf and feeling the synthetic fibres between his fingers. “You gettin’ bored, darlin’? Is that why you’ve been poutin’ the last two aisles?”
“I haven’t been pouting.”
“Mhm,” he rumbles deeply, lips tugged up into a small smile of amusement as he continues his perusal of the variety of painting accessories. Eventually he lands on the ones he finds somewhat satisfactory, and tosses them into the cart before beckoning you closer with an open hand reached out behind him.
You take it and press up into his side easily, sighing softly at the heavy arm that wraps around your shoulders and the lips that press gently against your temple. The heat from his body seeps into yours while a wash of his familiar cologne assaults your nostrils, and it takes every bit of strength to not tilt your head and catch his lips in a searing kiss that would go scaring away any and everyone within range.
God, he just smells so damn good. 
“Okay, so I may have been pouting—but it’s all your fault.”
He chuckles, the deep throaty timbre of it twisting pleasantly in your core, and what really kills you is that he has no idea the actual effect he has on you. Everything about him either sends you into a sweet and dizzying lovesick spiral, or hurtling straight into the fiery depths of hell with the thoughts that turn in your mind.
“Is that right? How so, sugar?”
You sigh, turning in his hold and raking a finger down his chest, winding around the buttons of his shirt as it goes. “All I can think about is fucking you right in the middle of this aisle, Jack.”
He blinks in surprise, taken off guard and rendered slightly bewildered by your admittance. “Come again?”
“Yes—I’m planning on it actually, again and again.”
A grin quickly tugs at his lips and his eyes flicker to the passersby going about their days as he tugs you closer, his thick drawl oozing into your ears, “You’re gonna get us thrown out if you keep that talk up, sugar.”
“Good, then we could go home and waste the afternoon away.”
He sighs, trying to appear vexed by your apparent disinterest in your errands, but the smile still tugging insistently at his lips gives him away. You see the playful sparkle in his eyes, the desperate want to give you everything you need and more, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.
“Come on, Jack,” you coo, dragging him in for another kiss with just a taste of everything you’re feeling that leaves him chasing your lips when you eventually pull away, “let’s go home. Let me have you.”
“You’ll be the end of me, you know that?” He grumbles quietly before shaking his head, winding a hand down to grab teasingly at your ass cheek and giving it a firm tap that sends a rocket of heat hurtling straight to your core. “Fine. Registers—now. And no dawdlin’, go on now.”
It takes an agonisingly long time to pay, and you’re sure he does it on purpose. Jack lingers, happily chatting away to the older man serving you, and he has to know how impatient it’s making you because you swear you spy a smirk lingering at the edge of his lips as you start to shift from foot to foot. 
You pounce as soon as he slides into the driver's seat, curling a hand around his neck and bringing his mouth greedily to yours. He responds quickly, unable to pull away from the lure of your kiss, lips parting and tongue meeting yours in a tangle of need. You groan into the heat of his mouth, relishing in the burn of his moustache as the kiss deepens. It does nothing to douse the fire wreaking havoc on your body, and you shift restlessly in your seat, thighs rubbing as you search for something to aid in your distress.
He chuckles, the force of his kiss moving you back into your seat as he crowds into you over the middle console, a hot hand splaying on the skin of your thigh to calm your agitation. 
The words rumble against your lips softly, “You want it right here, sugar?”
Public indecency be damned—you need something. It’s not like you’re close to the store where people mill about, with Jack always preferring to park a ways away so there’s minimal risk of someone scratching the sleek and shiny paint of the Bronco. There’s no one around, it’s just you two… just you two, in your own little piece of bliss. 
You pant softly into his mouth while nodding, fire growing up and along your spine as his rough fingers start to push up beneath the hem of your sundress. You’re already squirming from the familiar feel of them, system wired tightly in keen anticipation to feel them brush against you.
“You’re a greedy little thing today,” he murmurs, fingers coaxing your thighs to widen as they begin to dip their way beneath the waistband of your underwear.
A groan reverberates from his chest when he gently glides them along your slit to feel the heavy build up of arousal, taking a painfully long moment to simply feel you, before zoning in on your clit with the lightest of pressures. He circles softly over it, darkened eyes bouncing over your features as you relish in the hazy roll of pleasure taking over your body.
He ducks to press a series of open mouthed kisses to the side of your throat, teeth teasingly nipping at the sensitive skin and tongue soothing the brief pinch of pain away before the curve of his nose traces the shell of your ear. His honeyed drawl brings a shiver across your skin, and it really should be fucking illegal with the things it makes you feel.
“You been walkin’ around like this all morning, honey? You poor thing.”
Finally—God, finally—he allows his fingers to dip down and tease at your entrance, swirling two thick digits shamelessly through your arousal before sliding and curling them deep against the walls of your cunt. He’s quick to swallow the broken sounds that fall from your throat, his lips quirking up into a self satisfied smirk against yours as your hips squirm needily against the pressure of his hand.
“Go on, sugar. Take what you need, I’ve got you.”
You begin a somewhat messy rock of your hips, unashamedly beginning to fuck yourself on his fingers and ensuring to keep the calloused heel of his hand pressed up hard against your swollen clit. It provides the friction you need, you crave, with every back and forth roll against the rough surface of it causing the overwhelming heat in your core to build.
It’s just what you need. It’s just—it’s perfect. The feel of his thick digits dragging against your hot, slick walls; the relentless pressure against your clit; the perfect harmony of both working in tandem to bring a wash of electricity across your nerves, to bring you closer to that blissful edge you feel coming with every tense second—
“G-god, Jack—”
“I know, baby. I know.”
And… fuck. It’s right there, you’re right there—
—only for it to be just out of reach.
The feeling heightens, lingers, and then horrifically melts away into a throbbing ache as Jack retracts his fingers completely, the thick digits glistening from your flood of arousal in the sunlight filled cab.
He ignores your agonised cry of denial from the sudden loss and emptiness, and sucks them into his mouth, before reaching and turning the keys in the ignition, the truck rumbling to life loudly beneath you while you’re left trembling against the leather, thighs spread and cunt weeping.
“That’s what you get for bein’ impatient,” he drawls, a wicked shine to those warm honey eyes. “Now you sit pretty for the ride home, and I may be nicer when I get that sweet ass of yours inside.”
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