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writtenfangirl · 7 months

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Car's Outside

Inspired by Car's Outside by James Arthur!

This went through an extensive rewrite/editing process so hopefully, it's good!

I tried matching up the dates as much as possible so hopefully things don't get confusing <3

Edit: I posted this before qualifying for the Mexico GP thinking “I need something to make me feel better” after the inevitable news that the GP will break my heart only to wake up to news that Charles is on Pole with Carlos at P2 and Danny Ric at P4. I just need this to happen so bad I will literally cry if this happens

I'm packin' my bags that I didn't unpack the last time I'm sayin', "See you again," so many times, it's becoming my tagline But you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than try to catch this flight So many things I'd rather say But for now, it's goodbye

“I’m sorry,” Charles frowned. His breath fanned across her face, his forehead connected to her own. Y/N’s eyes were closed, head tilted upwards as she breathed him in.

Y/N knew Charles had to leave. It’s his job. Unlike most couples, she didn’t have the luxury of spending every minute of every second of every day with her boyfriend. Not when he was a world-famous Formula One driver whose job meant he was in a different city every week. And though Y/N enjoyed the privilege of freely going in and out of every paddock in the world because of her connections, it wasn’t a privilege she could exercise frequently. Not when she was an international lawyer also tasked with jet setting to other countries of the world.

But they loved each other and so they made it work. Or, at least, tried to.

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said with a rueful smile. Beneath the musky smell of his cologne, Y/N could smell him, familiar and deep, as if the very essence of him had lodged itself in her nose, up her brain, and made a home for himself. “I understand.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Charles sighed, voice deep, as he, too, breathed her in deeply. “I’d rather hold you, here, forever, than catch a stupid plane.”

“You say that now, but when you win a race, you’ll forget all about me,” she teased, opening her eyes to meet Charles’s brilliant greens.

“Not true, cherie. You’re always the first thing I think of when I win. Every win is for you.” And, as if to emphasize the point, he placed a soft kiss on her nose.

Y/N rolled her E/C eyes, a wide smile stretching across her face at the kiss despite herself. “Charles, I’m already your girlfriend. There’s no need for your sweet words to convince me to be yours.”

“It’s the truth, cherie,” he chuckled, “I always think of you first, win or lose. That’s how much I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And then she pulled his face to hers, placing a kiss on his lips that had him grinning against her like a little school boy offered candy by his mother. He pulled her to him tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as her hands wound itself around his soft hair. Kissing him always made her feel so dizzy, like the very air in her lungs left her to make space for him. She didn’t mind it one bit. She’d make space for him in every inch of her if she could.

But one of them had to be responsible and it certainly wouldn’t be Charles. So, despite not wanting to, Y/N found herself pulling away, breathing heavy as her hands trailed from his head, down his neck and on his chest. She resisted the urge to smirk at finding his heart beating just as fast as her own.

“You’re making it harder for me to leave, cherie,” Charles panted, his hair mused where she threaded her fingers.

“Good,” she grinned as she reached up and flattened his head, “you should miss me as much as I miss you. Now go, Leclerc, or else I’ll receive a phone call from Carlos complaining that you kept them waiting.”

“I’ll see you again, cherie,” he smiled, eyes tinged with sadness.

“Of course you will. Good bye for now, mon amour.”

“Good bye for now.” And with one last kiss, Charles left. The door to their house closed behind him, the click echoing around their empty living room. All Y/N could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and when she was sure that he was far enough away, she finally released a sob that had her chest caving, her heart suddenly feeling like beads inside a hollow rattle.

I'm starin' at the same four walls in a different hotel It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well Oh, but you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than this mobile in my hand But I guess it'll do, 'cause for you I would run up my phone bill

You say I'm always leavin' You, when you need me the most But the, the car's outside

Y/N didn’t think he was serious about getting on a flight back home, especially when she knew how busy he was on Friday on a race week. Not to mention the fact that the race this week was in Mexico, halfway across the world. But here he was, in the flesh, staring at her with those bright green eyes that she adored so much.

Of course, she should have expected this. Charles was nothing if not determined and when he said he was going to do something, he usually did it.

“You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.” Charles said as he barreled into their shared apartment, pushing past her and towards the living room, “I can’t stay long. Joris and Enzo are waiting outside to take me back to the airport.”

Past the front door, Y/N saw Lorenzo leaning against an expensive looking sports car next to Joris. Enzo as lifted a hand in greeting while Joris smiled at her. Y/N returned the greetings before she closed the door and turned to her boyfriend. Her brows were furrowed as she frowned at him, following him to their spacious living room. “What are you doing here? You have a race!”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls and I can’t race properly when I know we’re not okay.” Charles said as he ran his hands through his curls, sticking them up in odd angles. With a jolt, Y/N realized how long his hair was. The last time she saw him, he had just gotten a fresh cut from Pascale but now his hair was touching the nape of his neck. Has it really been that long?

Y/N took a deep breath before she spoke, gathering her patience as into a tight ball like freshly spun yarn. “Charles, this can wait—“

“No, it can’t,” Charles interjected, his words clipped and his tone sharp. “You were the one who wanted to talk and I’m already here so let’s talk. Do you want to end things or not, Y/N?”

“What?” She exclaimed, surprised at the sudden question. She wanted many things to happen but breaking up was definitely not on the list of things she wanted to do with him. Yes, they had their issues but she couldn’t imagine any of them could be solved by ending their relationship. “Of course not! Do you want to end things?”

Charles looked offended at the question. “No! I don’t want to end things. I want us to be together!”

“You sure don’t act like it!” She snapped before she could think about her next words. Part of her wished she could gobble up the words, stuff them back in her mouth before he could hear them but it was too late. Charles’ expression turned wounded, but his words held anger when he spoke.

“I told you about this before we started dating! I told you about my busy schedule. You came into this relationship with both eyes open, Y/N. Don’t act like you didn’t know about how busy I get!”

Y/N looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. She was beginning to get irrationally angry, and though Y/N was usually very good at compartmentalizing, there was something about the argument that had her wanting to scream. “Dammit, Charles! I know I signed up for this when we started dating but I also signed up for the breaks in between! I thought we could make it work then. But even during the breaks, you’re not here! And I make the time and I make the sacrifices to be here so imagine my disappointment when you don’t!”

“I told you to come to my races!” He yelled, his voice loud and echoing in their living room. His face was beginning to flush in anger, green eyes blazing as he spoke to her. “You’re always welcome there. I don’t know why you never come!”

“It’s hard to find any time to come to your races when I planned all of my time off around your breaks, Charles!” She yelled back. “Because, believe it or not, I don’t want to share you! Not when I barely see you as is. When I come to your races, I know you’ll be too busy doing your job to accommodate me and that’s okay. It’s more than fine. I’m happy to watch you do what you love to do. But, I want to at least see you. To feel you and hear you and talk to you. And I can’t do that during a race weekend because you’re busy and I refuse to be the clingy girlfriend trying to catch all of your attention. I planned my days off around your break period because I figured, that’s when I’ll see you more and actually spend some meaningful time together. But you’re never around! I get it, Charles. Ferrari comes first. I know what I signed up for. But lately, they’ve been coming second and third and fourth. When will it be my turn, Charles? Am I even on the list of your priorities?”

“Of course you are!”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Charles looked at her as if she’d struck him. “How can you say that when you know it’s not true. I love you, Y/N. You know that.”

She sighed, some of the fight leaving her body. “I do know that, Charles. I never said you didn’t love me. But just because you love me doesn’t mean I feel loved by you. I want to make things work. I try to make things work. But, sometimes it feels like you’re never around. And, I get it, you have a demanding job—“

“Don’t put all of this on me like your job is easy.” He scoffed, his eyes flashing in annoyance once again. “Your schedule is even more demanding than mine, and I’m sure that with your new job, you’ll have even less time for me.”

“Are you serious, Charles?” She hissed, her anger coming back in droves at his words, “You’re putting this on me? I make the time for you! Rather than seeing my family and friends during my breaks, I’m in Monaco for you and you always cancel on me at the last minute and I never complain! You were the one who missed our anniversary dinner!”

“And you miss my races!”

“You missed my promotion!”

“You never told me about your promotion!”

“How can I when you ditched me on our anniversary!”

“I told you why I missed it! The upgrades were important—“

“AM I NOT IMPORTANT, CHARLES?” She screamed. Briefly, she wondered if their neighbors could hear them, if Enzo and Joris could but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze at him as she said her next words softly, the fight leaving her body. “The anniversary wasn’t the only thing you missed. You missed my birthday, too. You didn’t even greet me but I took it to stride because I knew you were busy. I didn’t complain until now because I understood. Even when you promised me you’d fly home for your birthday so we can celebrate together and then you cancelled because of the Ferrari party and the interview, I understood. I plan all of my time off around you and never around my family or my friends, who, by the way, live in another country because I know you want to spend time with me. I always understand, Charles. I understand so much that sometimes I feel like I’m always making the sacrifices for our relationship and never you. And whenever I think to myself, I wish he’d choose me for once, it makes me feel like I’m a terrible person because I know you’re out there trying to achieve your dreams just like me and yet here I am, complaining that I don’t get enough time with you. You’re always promising to make it up to me but you never do and—” A familiar lump formed at the back of her throat, choking her words as a searing heat prickled the back of her eyes.

She loved Charles, she really did. But it was beginning to feel like that love was one sided. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what loving a man like him entailed. She expected that they’ll rarely see each other but at the rate things were going, they didn’t see each other at all. And judging by the way Charles was looking at her, with the anger in his eyes replaced by shame, he was beginning to realize that too.

“I missed your birthday?” Charles said taken aback.

“You were in Canada,” she shrugged miserably, “you were busy. I didn’t think I should remind my boyfriend when my birthday is. If you couldn’t remember, that just means you had more important things in mind.”

Shame coated his eyes as realization dawned on him. “I can’t believe I missed your birthday.”

She sniffled as she swiped at the tears that began to collect in her eyes. “It’s fine—“

“No, it’s not. I am an asshole, cherie,” Charles groaned as he pulled her in his embrace. His chest was warm, his arms even warmer as he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’m always apologizing to you and it’s not right. None of this is your fault. I’m sorry for saying those terrible things to you. I can’t believe you put up with me treating you like this for a whole year. Missing your birthday, and my birthday and our anniversary. Fuck, you’re right and it doesn’t make you a bad person to think those things because you’re right. I’m so sorry.”

Oh, darling, all of the city lights Never shine as bright as your eyes I would trade them all for a minute more But the car's outside And he's called me twice

Guilt, heavy and shameful, curled in his insides.

No wonder she was so upset with him. Every iota of her fury and more, he deserved for the shitty way he’s been treating her.

“I’m so sorry, cherie,” Charles mumbled against her hair. The smell of her shampoo, as familiar to him as his own was, invaded his sense. “I’m so sorry.”

He could feel her hands begin to wrap around his midsection. It was soft at first, tentative, before she tightened her hold on him like she was stuck in the middle of the sea and he was the lifeboat that saved her. He could feel her leaning her weight against him, the feel of her body a reassuring weight he didn’t realize he lost but was finding his whole life.

“I’m staying,” he said, pressing kisses against her head in between his words, “we’re going to celebrate everything. Your birthday, mine, our anniversary, even your promotion. You deserve as much. You deserve even more. Come fly with me, baby. Let’s go, wherever you want.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N said as she pulled away from him, eyes wide as she peered at him through her lashes.

“I’m staying here, in Monaco, with you.” He said slowly, conviction filling him as he said the words.

She gave him a dubious look. “Charles, it’s a race week. We both know you can’t miss that. It’s in Mexico for crying out loud! That’s why halfway across the world. You need to be back on the plane now if you want to make it back by Sunday.”

“I don’t care.” He said stubbornly. “None of it matters without you. Ferrari already took my breaks. I can sacrifice a race or two” And then his lips pulled into a rueful smile. “Besides, I’m not in the running for the championship anyway.”

Her eyes were still twinkling from the unshed tears, and despite the frown pulling at her lips, Charles had never thought she looked as beautiful as she did today. “But Charles, I have a job to do. I’m set to leave for London two days from now.”

His phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He fished it out of his pocket with a sigh, seeing Enzo’s face flashing on the screen. His arms were still wrapped around Y/N as he answered the phone

“Charles, nous devons partir,” Enzo urged.. (Charles, we need to leave.)

“I’m not going anywhere,” Charles replied, eyes trained on Y/N, who was watching the whole exchange with wide, reproachful eyes. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“Quoi?” (What)

“Cancel my flight, Enzo. I’m not going back. You and Joris can go home. Tell Maman I love her,” he said, ending the call before his brother could protest.

“Charles you can’t just leave in the middle of the weekend.” Y/N said, looking at him like he’d grown two heads.

“Yes, I can.” He said determinedly as he placed his hands on the side of her face, caressing her cheek as he stared deeply into her eyes in an effort to try and make her understand just how serious he really was. “I’m not racing this week. Or next week.”

“You’re going to miss Brazil too?”

“Yes. It’s time I choose you for once. I’ll race back in Vegas and Abu Dhabi but they’re lucky they’ll get even that. I chose them time and time again, cherie, and it’s not right. This is me making it up to you.” He pulled her face to his, placing a kiss on her lips. It was slow and languid, like the winding of a stopped clock that you’re trying to make right. Charles knew how lucky he was to have Y/N and she didn’t deserve to be forgotten, especially not like this. All he’s done was give her empty promises and if there was anyone in the world that deserved the best, it was her.

She pulled away from the kiss, loss of her making him groan. “What about my job? I have so much to do when I get to London. I won’t be in Monaco until the first week of November and the breaks will be far and few in between.”

“Then take me with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” he said before pulling her into another kiss, this one searing and needy. He felt her pull him towards her, closing whatever distance was between them until their bodies lined flushed against the other. He could feel her figure through their clothes, feel the way her breath hitched as his hands found themselves on her waist, thumbs skimming the soft feel of her skin. She gasped at his touch and the feral feeling that seized him had the tether in him snapping. He kissed her harder, hands winding down to the back of her legs and lifting her. Almost instinctively, Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, her feet crossing at his back. Her hands wound themselves around his hair, pulling at the strands in a delicious way that made him shudder.

How could he choose Ferrari over and over again when they would never be able to make him feel this way? He doubted not even winning a race in Monaco would feel as she good as she does.

His phone rang again, interrupting their moment. Charles groans as he pulled away and Y/N’s laugh rang around their living room. If another phone call interrupts them again, he’s getting rid of this thing. He clicked the green button, Fred’s face flashing as he answered the call with one hand while the other continued to grip Y/N.

“Charles—“

“I’ll see you in Vegas, Fred.” Was the only thing he said before Charles clicked the red button and tossed the phone aside, focusing his whole attention back on his girlfriend.

But he's gonna have to wait tonight I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee Unless you pack your bags You're comin' with me I'm tired of lovin' from afar And never being where you are Close the windows, lock the doors Don't wanna leave you anymore

“You mean it? You’re really skipping Mexico and Brazil for me?” Y/N asked, her voice hopeful as she spoke. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers playing at the strands of his hair.

“I am.” He said with all the seriousness he could muster. “I love you, cherie, and I want to love you by your side. You’re my number one priority and I’m sorry that it took me so long to remember that. I know I’ll have to leave again but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you. I love you, cherie. Will you let me come with you?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled, before she leaning her face to him, continuing their kiss right were they left off.

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strawhbrrries · 5 months

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Lose Control, i.

pairing: tattoo artist!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: you learn your tattoo artist, who also happens to be the person you love the most, is equally as in love with you but you can't deal with the repercussions of his past.

warnings: female pronouns, mentions of female masturbation, , mutual pining but they're both idiots, , tattooed frank with long hair!!, no use of y/n or descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 1k words

authors note: i would like to thank teddy swims for the muse to write again, please enjoy!

song to listen to while reading: lose control by teddy swims

find the masterlist here! read the next part here!

The sun peeked through the curtains, illuminating the chest of the man in the bed next to you. His face was turned away from you, but you knew from the way he was sleeping and the scent on your pillow exactly who it was. Frank Castle. You didn’t remember much about last night but you did remember you had places to be, and so did he.

“Frankie, wake up.” You shook him gently, smiling softly at the hairs plastered to his forehead and the smile he always adorned when he realized it was you.

“What time is it?” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up slowly, reaching around the end table for his phone.

“Late, c’mon we gotta go.”

You threw his shirt at him, hurriedly putting your own clothes on to make it to lunch with your mom on time. If it was up to her, she’d have invited Frank too, but it wasn’t. She pointed out one time that most friends don’t sleep in a bed together five days out of the week when they both have places to live, and every time you woke up next to him it was the only thing on your mind.

Frank was an attractive man, anyone with eyes could see that, and the what if was always there. But, he had a reputation. As did many other tattoo artists who were too attractive for their own good. You refused to be another notch in his belt, a one and done, someone he’d forget the second he came. In order for any of those things to be true, he had to be playing the long game, and you weren’t going to find out. No matter how many times you woke up with damp underwear from wet dreams of him, or the amount of times you caught yourself squeezing your thighs together when he was around.

“Where’s Frankie?” Was the first thing your mom asked when you arrived at the small cafe she had picked for lunch, you were convinced she’d rather have him as a child than you.

“He wasn’t invited to our mother-daughter lunch, momma.” You rolled your eyes playfully, giving her a warm hug and sitting opposite of her.

“Did he sleep with you?” She asked, nonchalantly, no doubt just trying to pry and see if you’d given in to his advances yet.

“Yes, and no we did not have sex. Premarital sex is a sin, momma.”

“You’re the phoneist christian I've ever met. I just don’t get it, both of you have feelings for each other. Just go out?” She took a sip of the tea in front of her, never breaking eye contact with you as you considered her words.

“You must hate me, I’m not getting my heart broken by some guy who could have any woman he wanted.” You shrugged, playing with the straw in the drink she had ordered for you.

“Men who plan on breaking a woman’s heart don’t typically live with them, or have relationships with their parents, or give them free expensive tattoos, or take them to the hospital when they’re too stubborn to go. I could keep going, honey.”

A part of you knew she was right, but the other, much bigger, part of you couldn’t help but let go of the anxiety that played in the back of your mind every time the thought of dating him came up. You’d rather shoot yourself in the foot than trust a man, even if this one had never done anything to make you doubt him or his words.

Frank Castle was one of the sweetest men you’d ever met, even if he looked big, bad and scary. He was covered in tattoos, head to toe, that he’d done probably seventy-five percent of, but you felt so incredibly safe with him. He was the one to take you to the hospital when your appendix burst and you swore it was just really bad pms, he argued that he’d been there for enough of your periods to know it wasn’t pms and you argued back that you lived through more periods than he had. He didn’t record you when you were high off the anesthesia because he knew your biggest fear was saying something you would regret and then everyone seeing it.

He was the sweetest man you’d ever met.

But the reputation he accumulated before the two of you met haunted him every day, he’d take it all back if he could. If it would convince you that giving him a chance was worth the risk, to just know for sure you craved him how he craved you. He gladly took the slivers of your life that you allowed him to have, seared them in the back of his mind and vowed to never forget just in case you took it all away.

Three years ago you sat in his chair, nervous and unable to make eye contact with him, for your very first tattoo. Now you were littered in tattoos, all done by him, and he couldn’t be prouder. It was his own personal way of marking what was his, and it seemed to work because you hadn’t had a boyfriend since you met him. Frank beams with pride when he tells everyone you had a boyfriend at your first appointment and then showed up to your next one single, he tells everyone it was because of his ‘devilishly good looks’ but the thing he doesn’t know? He was right.

You left that appointment wetter than you’d ever been in your life, you’d had a boyfriend for a year and a half and he never even got you a fraction that turned on. You took the coldest shower of your life, trying to rid yourself of the impure thoughts of him only to fail and spend the rest of your shower desperately chasing a high you knew he’d be able to give you. You broke up with your boyfriend that same night.

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earlgreylatte · 10 months

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His Völunder

Lots and lots of spoilers below

Jack the Ripper

Chamomile tea wasn’t exactly your first choice, but the aromatic beverage at least lets you keep your composure as your older sister, Brunhilde approaches your seated form.

It was your turn.

You wonder if your other sisters were collectively letting out a sigh of relief right about now, thankful they wouldn’t be the ones chosen for this round.

Not because they feared their end. No, not that. You had all agreed to put your lives on the line for the sake of humanity, as is the duty of the Valkyrie. Even if it would mean the end of your existence, even if it meant you would lose one another, even if the battlefield would be your last sight.

No, it was because of who would be humanity’s fighter against Hercules.

“Am I your least favourite sister or something?” You drawl out, finger tracing the rim of your cup, before placing it down with a resounding clink.

It’s cold now.

You don’t look back as Brunhilde stood above you.

She calls your name, but rather than the usual exasperation that would take over her tone when dealing with you, there was something more fatalistic in her voice, so lacking in emotion, that made even her acknowledgment of you sound like a warning. You glance up at her, leaning back in your chair to properly shift your body to see that her eyes definitely matched her despondent tone.

“You have gave your vow to put your life on the stake and I have decided you will be the one to fight next. Now isn’t the time—“ Brunhilde asserts, and you have no doubt that she’d give you a proper verbal lashing if you didn’t cut her off.

“Relax, sis. I’m not going to run away, I’m just making a fuss because you’re really putting me in a tough situation. To slay a beloved hero or to die alongside a villainous fiend; I’m the only one of us to face this particular…dilemma,” You muse aloud, looking in your sisters eyes to see a slight ounce of guilt or even sympathy. You don’t.

You sigh, “To pick him…The means may justify the end to you, but this isn’t the hero humanity wants, especially against Hercules. Can’t you…” You trail off as a shiver passes over your neck, before you whirl around in your seat, to see him.

Jack the Ripper.

Who just heard you state your very clear reservations against him. Who has a very overwhelming…presence.

He loomed above you, somehow making his way right next to you without you noticing with an shadowed expression that quickly lightens into something more amicable as your gaze catches his mismatched one. By all means, he looked more docile than you were expecting, appearing like any well dressed gentleman, with deceptively gentle eyes and an almost sincere smile.

To your shock he kneels down onto one knee, grasping your hand. His grip firm but not painfully so.

“My dear lady,” He kisses your knuckle, glancing up at you, “It seems you are the Valkyrie I am to be partnered to.”

You gap in shock, before regaining your senses. “Hey,” you gasp out, before using both hands to yank him up, you let out a choked laugh at the absurdity of your situation, “No need to work your charms on me, I’m not going to run…And you can let go now.”

The man now upright once again, tilts his head, before unfurling your hand from his. “You have quite the strength, but for an alluring lady, such as yourself, I am sure you are full of surprises.”

What a flatterer.

You huff at his strange behaviour before turning towards your sister, “Hilde, no need to linger, we’ll be at the battlefield shortly.”

You expect her to protest, maybe out of doubt or even concern of leaving you with a strange man, or to even say her possibly last words to you, but she only nods. “Very well. You shouldn’t linger too long either. Remember your responsibilities.” You can only mutter a complaint before she departs, glancing back at the notorious killer.

“Sit down for a bit, we still have time,” You gesture at the spot across from you, watching close as he takes a seat with a certain poise. You didn’t think there would be an elegance to simply sitting down, but being wrong was something you have grown used to today.

“I’d offer you a cup of tea, but it’s cold and gross.”

He lets out a chuckle, eyes twinkling with mirth, “I appreciate the hospitality, nonetheless. While I do not mean to question your graciousness, I am quite intrigued by your change in demeanour.”

You sigh for maybe the hundredth time today but certainly not the last, leaning forward to place your face between your hands languidly. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m supposed to ‘become one’ with an obviously…morally dubious individual, such as yourself.”

“Now, I am quite sure it will be simpler than you think,” He matches your posture, resting his chin above his locked hands, eyes meeting yours again, searching. You have to suppress a flinch at being at his full attention.

“Then you’re dumb.” You reply bluntly while the weirdo seems to look absolutely charmed for whatever reason, leaning back again as if to take you in your entirety. “In all honesty, I don’t want to die, especially alongside you. I don’t want to die because Hercules crushes you like a bug. And I definitely don’t want to die with my last sight being a cheering audience and my last meal being this oversteeped excuse of tea.”

Maybe you’re not as selfless or righteous as your sisters, and maybe that’s why Brunhilde too cruelly left you in his hands.

You abruptly snatch the abandoned cup of tea, and take a large gulp of leftover chamomile tea in a rather unladylike way, before tossing it aside, ignoring the sound of shattering ceramic. In a quick motion, you use your arms and knees to climb across the table, until your nose brushes his.

“My, this is rather unexpected—“ He falls silent as you wrap your hands around his neck, your grip unyielding but not enough to really choke or inhibit him.

“I don’t want this all to be for nothing. I doubt you care about humanity, you probably have your own screwed up reasons for being here. I don’t really care. We will not loose this fight. I refuse to let it end like this.” You declare, eyes locked onto his, feeling blood thrum beneath your fingers.

And he…

And he gazed upon you with wide eyes, definitely shocked at your brazen behaviour. It was almost like he was looking through you but somehow still managing to catch every inch of your visage.

His hands reached up to match yours, not even attempting to remove yours, but simply resting them, as his fingers curl against your own.

He almost looked reverent, his lips curling into a smile that was surprising angelic for a man like him.

“I told you,” He starts, his tone breathy, a stark contrast to his silver tongue, “This will not be hard, at all.”

And like that, your physical form dispersed into threads that wrapped around his hands.

“What a beautiful colour,” He whispers into the empty room, flexing his fingers, almost admiring his now gloved hands.

“It’s just a normal pair of black gloves, wouldn’t say there’s anything remarkable about it,” You drone, your voice passing over him as you reside at the core of his very being.

“I wasn’t referring to the gloves, darling,” He replies, finally moving to make his way to kill a god.

And kill a god, he did. While it was the longest battle yet, and you almost jumped out of your skin throughout the battle only being able to yell at and scold Jack for his risky tactics, he still won.

Yes, Brunhilde definitely expected this outcome.

As he looked up, seemingly at a loss for words at Hercules’ end. You regained your form, slightly cringing at the mixture of Jack and Hercules’ blood marring your skin and clothes.

You exhaled, looking up into the sky, knowing you aided in the demise of one the kindest beings to grace mankind. Green wisps of light ascended above, both you and Jack watching the final remnants of Hercules disperse.

He looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours once again, “It seems we survived like you wished for. How do you fair, milady?”

“You’re asking me that? I’m more curious about our latest godslayer,” You retort, rubbing your hand against your bloodied cheek, scanning his various injuries.

“I cannot say, this feeling is utterly foreign to me,” he clenches his fist, returning his gaze back to the sky, with a wistful tone that seeps into you.

Can he not see how completely sad he is?

His expression remained as light as ever, but even without synesthesia like his, you could see the somber look in his eyes, almost mourning.

He was pitiful, that much you could say with certainty after performing völunder with him.

“That’s sadness,” You reply, watching to see any reaction, “You, like anyone else here, are feeling sadness at the loss of Hercules.”

“Am I?” He muses, turning back to you, smiling, his eyes as gentle as they were when you placed your hands around his neck.

“What are you grinning at? You do realize you’re bleeding out, right? Are you perhaps delirious from blood loss?” You remark, breaking eye contact, still feeling the burnt of his eyes on you, nonetheless.

“Your colour is certainly unique,” He replies, simply.

You turn back to him, taking in his appearance, he looked different in your eyes from your first meeting. Even excluding his injuries and battered form.

You approach him after a moment of contemplation, with a lowered voice.

“You shouldn’t have pretended to be Jack the Ripper, would have saved you a lot of trouble and grief. While you’re not infamous, that would still be better than everyone rooting against you. I think the only one who cheered for you was drunk.”

He looks surprised for some reason, as if forgetting your very souls converged.

“That…” He seems to trail off, still caught off guard, before smiling in an irritatingly sad way. “In the end, the two of us have committed the same atrocities.”

Really now…

You sigh, “You really are pitiful. You should hurry to the medbay before you actually die. Don’t forget, you let yourself get impaled.” Without another word, you take to the air.

“As you wish, madame.” He mutters, amused, looking at your retreating form for a second more, before making his way through the replicated London.

While you had decided to leave by yourself to clean up, you turned back, and as expected, Jack was facing the malice and grief of those who loved Hercules. Adults and children alike pelting stones and whatever else they could grasp at him.

It was moments like these where you wonder how gods can’t see their similarities with humans. Grief and retribution seemed to be inherited feelings.

You hesitate for a second before cursing, descending next to him, plucking his knocked off hat from the ground as rocks rained from above.

“You…came back?” He looks stunned, as you move to place his hat to its rightful place and you have no doubt why.

Today was probably the first day someone even said “I love you”, to him so this is probably the most somewhat positive interaction he’s ever had.

“I’m just as responsible as you, so might as well face the music together,” You respond idly, kneeling down to loop his arm around your shoulder and hooking your arm across his waist before slowly standing up to make your trek to exit the arena.

“I would have to vehemently disagree with that notion,” Jack mutters, his voice finally betraying his weakened state. The fool tries his best to hold his own weight, but you only scowl, and use the arm at his waist to tug him closer.

“Forget that. How about you try learning a new song? I think ‘London bridge is falling down’ will forever be engraved into my head,” You complain finally reaching cover as you leave the storm of rocks, shouts, and sobs.

Jack laughs before wincing, “It is simply a song that I cherish, my fair lady,” He looks fondly at you once again as you let out a groan at his choice of endearment.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be such a sap,” You avoid looking at his face as you two see a med team quickly approach, carrying a stretcher. “Well, this is where we part, Jack, or whatever your real name is.”

“And I suppose you plan to fix yourself a proper cup of tea now?” He asks as you two detach for the nurses to fret over him, no doubt remembering your earlier conversation.

You grimace, remembering the taste.

“Hmm, I doubt it. I don’t think tea is for me, after all ,” You hum, turning away before you feel his slender fingers wrap around your wrist. Startled, you look back, only for him to pull you toward him, stumbling as your hands meet his chest. You try to detach yourself from him before he strains himself further, but Jack simply wraps his arms around you in a manner too bold for a man of his era.

“Idiot, what are you doing—!?” You begin to reprimand him, but his voice instantly and embarrassingly silences you.

“Allow me the honour to brew you some tea. I’m quite fond of darjeeling, myself. I think you would enjoy it too,” He interrupts you, looking down at you with those sappy eyes that you definitely hate.

“F-fine!” You stutter, trying to avoid the curious gazes of the nurses, quickly shoving him into the strecher, “But worry about the hole in your stomach first!”

You finally turn around, speedily escaping the prying eyes and giggles of the nurses.

“As you wish, my fair lady,” He calls out, and you can hear the smile in his voice as you let out a small noise of annoyance at his audacity, ignoring the heat that spread to your ears.

At least his spirits have returned, you think, fighting back a smile.

As confirmed in the side story series, “The Jack Ripper Files”, Jack isn’t actually the og ripper as a lot of people have already guessed since his behaviour in the main story obviously doesn’t match a vulnerable women killer. No, he actually killed the real Jack the Ripper who was about to kill a young orphan girl. Like he still has a weird desire to kill (pretty sure some organization (maybe government) seems to give him targets (it’s a win-win, he gets to kill, and they get the job done)) and is obviously not morally good but he wouldn’t go after innocents especially prostitutes, like his pseudo mother Anne. But he still takes on the moniker for Ragnorak since he has killed one. Also, even before the ripper thing, he seems to use Jack as a fake name anyway, probably after his father seeing how he wears his stolen hat.

Any interaction would be appreciated! I plan on writing a Qin Shi Huang and Nikola Tesla version next!

#record of ragnorak #shumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #shumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv x reader #jack x reader #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #artist of death x reader #ror jack x reader #snv jack x reader

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ghostfacesvalentine · 8 months

Text

HALLOWEEN DAY 1: Ghost hunting - Multi!Muse x Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Well, ghosts, death, the afterlife, anxiety, PTSD

Type: Blerps

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: How they would react to going/how they’d feel/what it would be like to ghost hunting with the reader

Notes: Happy first day of Halloween! I wrote this as a blurb, following how they would react/be like to ghost hunting with the reader.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, doesn’t see the point in it. He’s super lost and doesn’t really know what to do or what he’s looking at. Not to mention he absolutely DESPISES the white box. Flinches anytime it turns on. Kind of just dives in head first to everything, quite literally. Jason would eventually get frustrated with you, at some point, mainly when you would keep hearing things, or seeing things. You thought you would’ve caught them on camera by now, but it’s actually the complete opposite. Overall, could be a very stressful situation for both of you.

Michael Myers: Could not care less. Still follows you though. Kind of just sides eye you as you cling onto his sleeve. Walks in first to any room, as usual. Not a fan of the spider webs, it’s probably the only time you’ve seem him visibly annoyed. Another first in seeing his shoulders sort of slouch over. You swear you could even hear an audible sigh coming from underneath his mask, there’s no one to follow, only shadows. Thinks your rituals of white noise and outrageous flashlights is pointless but on the plus side, he kind of just “walks” through the spiderwebs for you.

Tiffany Valentine: Super excited to go ghost hunting with you. It’s about time to take some kind of adrenaline rush! She LOVES contacting the other side, good or evil. She would absolutely take the lead and pull up all the stops of the most haunted places in the area. Tiffany may even go as far as booking tickets to infamous haunted mansions and abandoned buildings. She looks into different manuals, both old and new, she’d buy and steal all sorts of gadgets and anything that could be used for any rituals for you both to catch a ghost. She laughs when the lights go out or things start flying and hitting the walls, disregarding your fear, if you have any.

Billy Loomis: Kind of thinks the idea is lame at first, but after you seem to be very intrigued, at some point Billy wants to get involved. He’s kind of quiet about it at first with a very much “sure thing kitten, whatever you want” attitude. Billy takes the liberty of just watching you as you set everything up, make notes and doodle on all kinds of maps. At first you think Billy isn’t really paying attention, but when he follows you, you couldn’t help but notice he actually knows how to turn on the white noise box. It’s kind of cute, and not to mention, you are more than welcome to hide behind him if anything gets too scary for you.

Stu Macher: LOVES the idea of ghost hunting, will look into the scariest of places in the area. Asylums, jails, schools are his specialty. You’re kind of taken by surprise with how much he becomes hands on with these adventures. Before you’d know it, Stu would take the lead, flashing the light as you follow him through the grim halls of the abandoned buildings. Of course, he’d act like the light went out, losing you in the process, only to flash the light to your face making you scream, frightening almost any remaining living creature in that place, followed by Stu’s belly laughter. Almost no “real” ghost hunting would get done with this guy, you’d probably be chased out by a curtesy officer before you could sit in a room to make any contact with the other side.

Patrick Bateman: Doesn’t entertain the idea for long, he kind of just stares at you when you go on about the adventures you want to take during this season. He understands it to an extent, but it seems meaningless. Not to mention, he’s possibly more athiest than anything, never with the hope of an afterlife. Patrick would rather go where there were violent deaths, places of execution and torture he’d try to convince you “you’ll find whatever you’re looking for, there.” If you could settle then great, if not, then tough luck. There’s a fifty fifty chance you’d be able to drag him with you if you wanted, but that would depend on his relationship with you. Still thinks the ritual of Halloween is silly and meaningless and yes that includes ghost hunting.

Leatherface: Likes the idea of ghost hunting. he doesn’t really understand it at first. Bubba has an innocent way of looking at ghosts, thinking they’re silly and just the kind extension of another human. Once you tell him about the anger and the sadness some of the ghosts carry at times, you can tell he’s a little bit spooked. He’d ask you questions of the afterlife and everything you’d know about ghosts. Maybe start him off small, little haunted cafes, he’d catch on very quickly and learn how to defend himself and you, he’d become a great ghost hunter with the proper guidance.

Harley Quinn: THE BEST GHOST HUNTER. Harley’s so into it! I bet you she has the equipment already. Super enthusiastic and entirely fearless, Harley will not hesitate to protect you whether you need it or not. She’d take the initiative to look into haunted places for you, persistent until you guys find something. Harley’s so goofy, wearing night vision goggles, carrying around a backpack with all kinds of equipment, flashlights, batteries. She’d be messing with whatever you find at the room and ends up making a mess or scaring you half to death, followed by her wide smile and mouthing a non-apologetic “sorry”

Poison Ivy: Not too big on the idea of ghost hunting, but will entertain the idea. You’d have to bribe her into taking you ghost hunting. She mostly wants to make sure you were okay and what better way to make sure you’re okay than to take you herself. Pamela isn’t scared too easily, she certainly hates walking into spiderwebs though. If you’re afraid of everything, she’d scold you just a tiny bit, laughing it off after seeing your terrified expression. You’d forget batteries or chargers or certain little essential things, but your beloved Ivy would have it in her hand, looking to you with a sly smile. Even ghost hunting she seemed to be the one who knew the most.

Bruce Wayne: His first reaction would be “absolutely not” he’s not doing that, why would he? Of course he’s seen many things but ghosts? It just seems like a dull pastime, but when he sees your discouragement, it definitely tugs at his heart strings. Before you know it he’s waking you up at 1 am, packing your bag because you’re going to go investigate an abandoned jail notorious for ghostly activities. He has all the gadgets, why shouldn’t he take you? Also, if there’s nothing you find after hours and hours of looking, I wouldn’t put it past Bruce to move some stuff around or work his bat magic to get you excited about your adventure with him.

Jason Todd: Absolutely down for anything. “Woah, are you sure about that? You’re not going to hide behind me the whole time?” Jason would absolutely tease you nonstop about being scared of ghosts. “I’m not scared, I respect them” “sure whatever you say doll.” He’d let you believe you’re leading them both, following your advice as to what to take, where to go, what to do. Of course his main job is to take care of the spooky spiderwebs for you. Once you get to your destination, it’s nothing like you imagined. Tucking yourself into Jason’s jacket, it kind of makes his heart flutter, after all this time, whether it’s goons or creeps or ghosts, you constantly feel safest tucking yourself into him.

Billy Hargrove: He’s kind of a little unsure at first, not knowing exactly what you wanted to do or why. Billy likes Halloween, but his idea of a Halloween date considers a movie night, going to house parties. but not spending it alone and in an abandoned hospital or building trying to connect with the other world. He’s intrigued to say the least. If Billy learned anything throughout his years is that if a woman has made a decision of a date, it’s better to go with it. Billy is a little bit more scared than he would like to admit, he’s more on edge than you, but that doesn’t mean he’d only fend for himself. If you both get scared at a noise together, or get out of the way of a ceiling tile falling through, he’d instinctively pull you towards him, covering you with his body where he could. Sooner or later, this would become a thrill for him, wanting to go to more places with you even further out of the town of Hawkins.

Steve Harrington: He’d be hesitant, put up a little bit more of a fight than most characters. Suggesting to go to the movies, or go trick or treating, to a carnival, anything else. You’d make a deal with him, you could go to the carnival, or a house party or trick or treating, whatever he’d like as long as he went with you to cross through that abandoned slaughter house. Steve wouldn’t hesitate to tell you maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, but if you’d insist, he’d take you. He’d rather it’d be him that would go with you than anyone else. Like Billy, he’d be protective of you, but unlike Billy, his priority would be to make sure you were okay, not finding ghosts.

Steve Rogers: He’d be up for it, to your surprise, as long as you weren’t going to bother the ghosts, Steve wouldn’t mind taking a walk around said haunted area in hopes of finding proof of an actual after-life. Of course, he’d be your big body guard, ready and apt to be hidden behind. Steve wouldn’t fall victim easily to the jump scares, not as much as you would at least. There’d be times where Steve would try to hold in his laugh at how cute you look clinging onto his sleeve when you thought you’d heard a noise. Of course he wouldn’t hesitate to remind you that this was your idea after all.

Bucky Barnes: Kind of isn’t down for it. I feel like this would be crossing a line for him of some sort. He’d beg you not to do it, trying to compromise by doing other activities he’s not so fond of, like baking or going to a Halloween party. Bucky would for sure try to sweet talk you out of it if your heart is set on it, explaining to you that maybe it’d be better to let the souls rest. If you’d sneak out then Bucky of course would track you down, finding you easily and of course it’d be at a time where you were stuck somewhere or lost. Here comes Bucky, not even having to tell you “I told you so” or anything but still, you can tell yourself that he told you so.

Wanda Maximoff: Kind of like Steve, she’d be up for it. Wanda would be curious about the after life at times, what harm would it be if you guys were just looking? There was an adrenaline rush in this hobby of yours and Wanda knew it. It’d become a great feeling for her. She’d look for places on her own time, suggesting new methods and ideas of where to go next. You’d be able to even start your own scrapbook of ghost hunting adventures together. Wanda made you promise each other not to go without each other, both for your safety and also because she liked it just as much as you do.

Loki Laufeyson: Kind of laughs about it, but then sees that you’re serious. He actually has quite a bit of knowledge on spirits and those who live in the other world. Loki would be delighted to enlighten you on said topics. He’d advise you not to go disturb them though. If you absolutely insist, or go without telling him, he’d find you just in time before you’d fall down the second floor or down the stairs into a pretty serious accident. There would be a silent “I told you so” moment, but he’d still smother you and comfort you endlessly. So, preferably an at home Halloween date would be more ideal with him.

Cloud Strife: Doesn’t understand why you’d want to do anything like that at all. He just overall doesn’t understand it and honestly he doesn’t really want to. That doesn’t mean he won’t go with you though, he will. Cloud isn’t the best at jump scares, constantly ready to fight whatever surprises you both on the way. This wouldn’t really help his PTSD or anxiety, so maybe it’s best to forget the ghost hunting and maybe read about it instead.

Aerith Gainsborough: Kind of scared of ghosts? But also so excited about them as well. She loves anything that looks remotely creepy or enchanting, telling you constantly “You should give them a chance” Aerith truly knows how to find the beauty in everything and if it’s anyone that could convince you to find the beauty in a beaten up spiderweb infested home, it’s Aerith. She’s terribly empathetic towards the lives who have ascended your reality, often wanting to get to the bottom of their story and could sit there with you for hours trying to figure out what they’re trying to tell you two.

Sebastian Michaelis: Won’t entertain it. Sebastian is not a fan, if it’s not an actual threat to you or himself, he finds it to “just be another creature” It’s amusing how nonchalant Sebastian is in the presence of a ghost, not caring for their story or their past. If you wanted to know, he would tell you still. Sebastian wouldn’t mind explaining to you the history of souls and where they wander, how they came to be and the whole ordeal. Hopefully it would suit your curiosity enough to keep you from trying to hunt them down.

Spencer Reid: Soooo down. He’s probably the one that suggested it in the first place. Spencer already has a map of all the said haunted locations in town, he’d even color code them to coordinate where you’d go to first. Spencer would love to keep a scrapbook of different notes, pictures and whatever “evidence” you both find regarding the souls you’ve encountered. There would be times too where Spencer could be out of town on a case, he’d promise you to go to the nearest creepiest or most haunted house in town and take pictures to add to your scrapbook. Nevertheless, the most immersive s/o on this list to go ghost hunting with!

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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You Painted Me Golden

Did you know that while your mate was warming Amarantha’s bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain?

Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment?

SUMMARY: Eris Vanserra never wanted a mate, never wanted a wife. When a chance meeting in Day Court alters the course of his life, Eris will be forced to acknowledge both. But a new threat is looming, and an old foe has come back to Prythian.

And it will take more than luck for Eris Vanserra to keep himself and his family safe when he's dragged beneath the sacred mountain

Read More: AO3

Chapter 6

Thank you @wilde-knight for tracking this relic down for me!

Eris had begun to have nightmares. Not the usual Autumn nightmares that plagued him, but ones that spoke to shifting fears. Of things he could not afford to lose, lest he lose himself. Dreams of Arina’s blonde hair stained red, her eyes vacant as she stared sightless. Eris would wake coated in sweat, twisting just to ensure she was still okay. Still breathing.

He knew he woke her, too. Sometimes she’d reach out a hand, pretending she was merely searching for him in her sleep. Other times she’d turn entirely, eyes blinking in the dark, and ask if he was alright. Eris would lie—oh, how often he lied to her—and insist she go back to sleep. He couldn’t tell her the truth, that it was Beron killing her and Eris forced to watch. Forced to choose.

Between her and the throne of his home. He lay awake at night chewing on the inevitability of it all. One day, Beron would have to die. His brothers were surely plotting just as he was. He’d have to choose between Arina and his crown. Beron knew what motivated Eris, what kept him complicit and quiet and if Eris was ever caught making a move, it would be Arina who paid for it.

For now, though, Eris could have her. And for now, Eris reveled in it. Delighted in her presence, in the way he’d catch her looking at him not with hatred or open, unguarded loathing but delight. Wonder. She was softening and so was he. Eris knew it was dangerous to care for her the way he did and she was the only thing that really belonged to him.

When the time came, he’d send her back to Day or he’d send her to the continent where he knew she was safe. He’d tell everyone she hated him—and maybe she would by then. As long as she was alive and not a tool to keep him forever trapped beneath Beron’s thumb, that was enough.

She was the only thing keeping him from breaking beneath the mountain. Five years had passed in miserable, unmuted drudgery and nothing had happened.

“Update?” Amarantha barked, pulling Eris from his musings. Arina remained on his lap, one arm slung over his shoulder. Rhysand strode forward, paler than Eris last remembered, but still as vicious as ever. Eris thought he would have dashed himself against the rocks rather than suffer half a decade as Amarantha’s favored pet.

Let's get this over so I can get my cock wet, he thought with irritation.

“There is nothing to report. Another Calanmai come and gone with no hint of human, female or otherwise.” Perched on her throne in a sheer, blood red dress, Armantha sighed. She crossed her leg, nearly showing the whole room her miserable cunt and though it might get them both killed, Arina had to turn her head to smother her giggling.

Absurd creature, his wife.

“He bores me. What is he doing, then?”

“Brooding, my lady,” Rhysand said with obvious amusement. “Pondering five decades of misery before he finally joins us for a little fun.”

“How dull,” she pouted, scanning the room for a bit of amusement. But Eris knew she’d burned through them all in the early years and now they were merely fixtures for her ego. This was not how she wanted to spend her time, the equally famed and feared Hybernian general. Eris wished she’d just get to the point of their little experiment.

Bring in Hybern, enslave them all or get out.

She waved a hand and the music began, freeing them from a night of torment. Arina twisted in his lap again, looking for his brothers. They had a long standing card game going, trading coins they routinely lost and regained on an endless loop. No one was bored of it, though—least of all, Eris.

He pressed an absent kiss to her soft cheek. “Behave,” he warned her, setting her to her feet so he could stand.

“Will I see you this evening, my lord?” she teased, as if there had ever been a moment when Eris hadn’t joined her in bed. Sleeping beside her was the only true peace Eris had.

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smothering the urge to smile at the twinkle in those sage colored eyes.

Arina melted away, leaving Eris to try and figure out what, exactly, was going on between Summer and Day. Something was happening—you had to be willfully blind and stupid not to notice. Glancing toward his father, who dipped his head only once in acknowledgement, Eris made his way toward the only person in Summer he knew well—princess Cressida.

“Busy?” he asked, sidling up beside her.

“For you? Always,” she replied dryly, not bothering to look at him at all. That was fine—Eris hadn’t expected a warm, delighted welcome. He probably would have said the same to her if she’d tried to interfere in Autumn’s business.

“Aren’t you bored?”

Cressida turned to look at him, blue eyes sharp as ever. Tossing a loc of white hair over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you? Wasn’t your mate just giggling in your lap?”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Eris retorted, annoyed that everyone wanted to throw Arina right back in his face. It had been five godsdamned years. Surely his fidelity was proven?

“I can’t imagine what else you’d want from me,” Cressida intoned. Eris saw the tightness around her eyes, smelled the salt of her agitation. Pretty little liar, he wanted to say. It didn’t matter, though, given the High Lord of Summer was coming from wherever he’d been hiding, and the High Lord of Day wasn’t in his chair.

Conspirators. Fucking morons if they were caught, but if they succeeded…

Eris rose from his chair with an exhale of air.

“Even you need friends down here,” he told her, leaning close so only she could hear him speak. “You know how dangerous it can be.”

Cressida looked up at him, lip curling with dislike, but she didn’t say a word. If she was smart, she’d understand his warning. If he noticed, it wasn’t long before Rhysand did, too. They needed to be smarter—far more careful, and do their plotting outside of the mountain when they were given their weekly reprieves.

Eris made his way back to the corner Autumn occupied. Arina played cards with his brothers, save for Tanwen who was wooing a Dawn courtier with gusto. Beron watched his wife spend their money with a sharp eye, stepping away when Eris approached.

“Well?”

“Just as you thought,” he replied, swiping Arina’s goblet of wine from her hands to obscure his mouth. “They keep leaving at the same time.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“No,” Eris admitted, frustrated he’d gotten nowhere with Cressida.

“Send your wife,” his father ordered, his words ringing with finality. “Have her talk to Helion.”

“And then what?” Eris asked, desperate to keep Arina far from this plot. If Amrantha got a whiff of it, she’d kill them all indiscriminately.

“And then we bide our time,” Beron said shrewdly. “We take no sides, we do nothing at all.”

Eris understood what his father meant, They’d side with whoever would come out victorious, which meant waiting and watching and very carefully plotting a multitude of courses. Eris knew if Beron thought they could take Amarantha with might alone, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

But he’d seen what her armies had done when they’d swept into Prythian five years earlier. And none of them had their magic to aid them. She pulled the strings of the High Lords and could kill them all, leaving their territories in the hands of the lesser Fae.

Eris nodded, wine sliding down his throat just as bitterly as the realization that once again, Arina was a pawn in his fathers games. She was expendable—she’d go talk to Helion, and if someone saw her, no one that Beron cared to lose died.

“Is everything alright?” Arina asked, pulling Eris from his thoughts. She’d twisted in her chair, hand outstretched for the wine he’d taken. Beron melted away, looking for his own wife without a care or concern. Eris beckoned for her to stand, delighting in that wicked smile on her beautiful face.

“Not anymore,” he lied. Arina would do what he asked because she was lovely and brave—and if she learned of whatever plot was brewing between the other courts, she’d wanted to get involved. Eris needed to figure it out without putting her in the middle of it.

Pulling her into his lap while his brothers rolled their eyes, Eris found his mother watching. Beron would slaughter him. No. This time, Arina needed to remain ignorant in order to protect her, and it needed to be his mother who risked something. Maybe it was Eris’s bitterness talking, but the scars on Arina’s back were a reminder that Amera Vanserra owed Eris’s mate. She’d taken that beating, had told all of Autumn Court that she’d slept with Helion when she hadn’t.

Even if they all knew, Arina had still done it.

Eris waited that night, tucking Arina into bed while resisting the urge to bury his cock in her body. He’d never get out of bed if he did—and he was waiting on his traitorous mother. She’d begun sneaking out of bed two years before, tiptoeing back to Helion for her little stolen moments. That Beron hadn’t caught her was a miracle and proof of how deep delusions could run.

Eris heard her door open and slipped out of bed with more than a few regrets given how Arina whined in her sleep. Face hidden by those golden waves, Eris was tempted to brush them from her cheek.

He’d be back soon, and he’d wake her. That promise to himself was enough to send Eris out into the darkness, slipping down the smooth halls he knew like the scars etched against his skin. He caught his mother before she ever left, fingers wrapping around her thin wrist.

“Eris!” she exclaimed, the scent of her fear filling the air. Why did she risk it, knowing how mercurial her husband was? Eris couldn’t fathom it.

“You’re going to see Helion.” It wasn’t a question, though he couldn’t keep the condemnation from his voice.

She didn’t respond, forcing him to plow ahead. “Father thinks Summer and Day are plotting something.”

“Eris—”

“If you don’t find out what they’re up to, he’ll send Arina. And she’s…” Fuck, he hated how desperate he sounded. How he had to plead with his mother to do this for him. Eris, who was practically drowning in his pride, forced himself to add, “Please.”

“I will tell you,” she said after a moment of heartbreaking hesitation, “if you swear to help Lucien however you can the next time he might need it.”

“Done,” Eris agreed, grateful it wasn’t a magical bargain. Her help always came on the back of wanting to protect Lucien. Eris swallowed the bitterness he felt about it because at least Arina didn’t need to be involved. This would stay strictly between the Vanserra’s.

His mother sighed and then slipped out of his grasp, headed for Helion. Eris watched her go, hating how much he loved her. His mother likely loved him too, he reflected as he made his way back to his shared bedroom. She just didn’t know how to show it well. Didn’t know how to make him feel it the way she did for Lucien. Sometimes he thought there was an assumption that Eris could take care of himself and needed less from her.

But as he curled up next to Arina, foregoing his promise to fuck her in favor of tucking her into his chest, Eris though that wasn’t true. He needed just as much.

Sometimes he thought he needed more.

ARINA:

Eris was on edge again. It was their last day beneath the mountain before they could leave for Autumn and usually Eris all but bursting with excitement. Today, though, Eris was brooding, legs stretched in front of him, head propped against his fist. Arina sat at his feet like she so often did when she wanted Amarantha to ignore her entirely, one hand wrapped around Eris’s shin. If she made herself look like a pet, made it seem as though Eris was already humiliating her, there was no fun for the Lady of the Mountain to do the same.

Indeed, she didn’t look at either of them as she tormented some Day courtiers, a wicked smile curved over her terribly plain face. It gave time for Arina to contemplate what secrets Eris wasn’t sharing this time.

In the course of five years, she’d become rather accustomed to Eris and the strange contradictions that existed just beneath his skin. His cruelty wasn’t entirely imagined—he could be quite awful to people around him, kicking them while they were down, scheming behind their back, and standing with a grin on his beautiful face while the High Lord punished them mercilessly.

And at the same time, Eris was fiercely protective of the people close to him. His brothers, his mother—her. Eris would go to war for any of them, would suspend the few morals he did hold dear if it meant keeping his family safe. And sometimes, when they were alone, Arina thought she loved him.

Was certain she must.

And then he’d retreat back into himself, putting up wall after wall for her to try and get through until she grew frustrated and wished she’d never met him at all. Eris made it so difficult to want him and she suspected he did it on purpose. No one could hurt him if they didn’t know him—if he kept them all at arms length.

Today, though, Arina was grappling with a new, more terrible thought. Eris had been creeping out of bed most nights. Sometimes he was only gone a few minutes but others he was gone for hours. His return often sent him straight to the bathing chamber where he’d aggressively wash himself.

Coupled with the fact that they weren’t having sex the way they used to, and Arina was starting to think Eris was having an affair. And she’d decided if he was, she was going to make his life hell until she could leave him. After all the fuss he’d made about being together, about getting married, the idea that in just five short years he was already bored enraged her.

Even his miserable, stupid father managed to remain faithful and Beron had no morals at all. What was so wrong with her that he needed to take his pleasure elsewhere?

Testing her hypothesis, Arina slid her fingers higher and higher up his leg, making her way toward the cock she liked so much.

Eris caught her wrist in unforgiving fingers, no bothering to look at her at all. His eyes were focused on Summer Court—on princess Cressida.

Arina wrenched from his grip, irritated that Eris couldn’t be bothered to even pretend. If he was having an affair, did that mean she was allowed, too? Somehow, Arina very much doubted Eris would be fine with her picking out another lover.

The realization was made all the worse by her own private admission that she didn’t want another lover. She only wanted her mate, her husband. Gods, but Arina felt so pathetic then, sitting at his feet like a good little pet.

She rose abruptly, unable to stand another second beside him. Eris finally turned to look at her, amber eyes flooded with curiosity. He didn’t have to talk to her? Fine. She turned her back to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she marched off. He didn’t chase after her and when she looked back, Eris was lost in his own thoughts again just as she left him.

Arina might have screamed in frustration if she hadn’t been so afraid of Amarantha. She was going to bed, was done with this hateful night. She’d wake in the morning for Autumn where it was easier to ignore and avoid Eris. She could leave, could probably convince one of his brothers to take her to the sea if she made up some lie about not feeling well.

She could— “Helion?”

It was strange to see him, leaned casually against a wall, draped in the Day Court white. He seemed sadder—older, colder. So unlike the male she’d once been friends with. She knew he was waiting for her given the way those gold eyes fell on her.

“You look sad,” he said, the question beneath obvious to them both. Arina chose to ignore it, unwilling to admit Eris Vanserra had the power to break her heart.

“Tired,” she replied, stepping as close as she dared. She wasn’t going to be beaten on Helion’s account.

“You’re still welcome back, you know,” he said as she made her way past him. “I would still…I would still honor the agreement between us.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Wow. What choices. A loveless marriage in Autumn or a loveless marriage in Day.”

“Arina—”

“Good night, Helion,” she called over her shoulder, walking away before anyone could overhear. Helion called her name again and Arina ignored it, anger bubbling inside her chest until it was practically a raging inferno. There was no release for it, not here. Arina made her way back to the room she shared with Eris, pacing and stamping her feet and when that didn’t help, throwing the blankets furiously from the bed.

In the end, she went to the bath. Soaked in the hottest water she could stand until her brown skin was red from heat, Arina managed to calm herself. Wrapped in a bathrobe, hair dripping over the silk, she expected to return to an empty bedroom.

Eris was there, sprawled on the wrecked bed. Utterly naked, his cock fully erect. He had to be insane if he thought she was going to crawl into his lap tonight. Arina paused, drinking him in. Eris looked exhausted, the hollows beneath his eyes smudged purple. His already fair skin was practically sallow making the dusting of freckles over his nose stark. Even the way he’d spread himself out spoke of someone who needed unbroken sleep.

Maybe he should end his affair.

“Yes?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Come here,” he murmured, beckoning her with two fingers. “Let me kiss you.”

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

“Touch yourself, Eris,” she replied, letting her eyes slide down his form with open appreciation. That wasn’t fake, though it did fill her with anxiety. She was so stupid and she knew it—wanting him when he was out cavorting with only the cauldron knew who.

His eyes gleamed. Unaware she meant to bring him to completion without ever touching him, Arina toyed with the ties of her robe while Eris ran a large, broad hand down his toned stomach and chest.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice dark and husky with desire.

No. I want you to tell me you love me—that you’re not fucking someone else. “Yes.”

Eris wrapped his fingers around his thick, large cock and gave himself a slow, soft tug. He still thought this was a warm up until she cracked. Arina remained where she was, standing just outside the bathing chamber with her dripping hair and her aching heart.

“Again,” she whispered. Eris’s gaze sharpened, as if he knew what game she was playing.

“Do you want to watch me come?”

“Yes,” she replied. That was safe—he couldn’t hurt her when she stood across the room, when it was only him made vulnerable. He didn’t understand the why, and Arina forced herself not to think about him wanting to please her.

Eris slid his thumb over the head of his cock, slicking it through the bead of moisture already gathering along the slit. “It’s been too long between us,” he groaned, eyes half lidded. “I miss your taste.”

Do you prefer it over your mistress? “Tell me more,” she said, tugging at the ties of her robe. Eris watched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Eris began stroking himself in earnest, his free hand running over his parted thighs to chase whatever pleasure had begun to pool in his body. Watching him was like watching an out of control wild fire. He was going to ignite, was going to take them both with him.

He’d consume her. Maybe he already had.

Eris arched his back. “You never touch me anymore.”

Because you’re fucking someone else. “That’s not true,” she said. Arina had her hands on him every single night, even if they were only sleeping. She’d been touching him in the throne room a few hours earlier. He’d been the one to pull away her hands. He was the one sneaking out at night.

“I wanted to pull my cock out in that throne room,” he panted, arching his hips again. He was so pathetically close if the tightness of his balls were any indication. Eris continued to stroke, pulling the soft, sensitive skin of his shaft under those callused fingers. Arina wanted him so badly her legs shook from the effort it took to remain still. “I wanted to see you choke on it until your makeup was running down your face.”

Fuck him, she wanted that too— “Why didn’t you?”

Eris groaned. “Too many eyes. Don’t want that filthy fucking court to know how lovely you are.”

Her heart clenched. “Come for me, Eris.”

“I want you to touch me,” he half pleaded. “Arina, come touch me.”

She didn’t budge long enough that Eris’s hand slowed, eyes opening wider. Jaw set, Eris dropped his cock entirely despite how it twitched in protest. “You’re angry with me.”

It wasn’t a question, and still she responded. “Should I be?”

Eris slid his hands behind his head, sighing softly. “Probably. But tell me, wife. What have I done that’s displeased you?”

“You know what you’ve done,” she hissed, retying her robe angrily. “Don’t play stupid Eris. It’s beneath you.”

He took another loud breath. “I don’t know—”

“Where do you go every night?” Arina demanded, holding his gaze. “Who are you visiting?”

He became so still, his cock flagging beneath her hateful stare.

“Arina,” he whispered but she didn’t want to hear it. Striding for the wardrobe, Arina flung on a nightdress without daring to look at him. She thought he was still on the bed, watching her with wary, guilty eyes.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, standing just behind her. Eris slid an arm around her middle and Arina had to bite back the urge to hit him. She couldn’t do that, even in her anger. Too many people vented their rage on him that way.

Arina would use her words.

“Somewhere else. To someone else—” she began to add, wanting to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. Eris reached for her throat, pinning her back to his chest.

“Tell me who,” he whispered dangerously, teeth grazing her neck. “So I might rip out their heart.”

“It’s okay for you but not for me—”

“I’m not fucking anyone. Not even you,” he added bitterly, his hold on her body tightening. “I am doing something else—something that has nothing to do with my cock.”

“Tell me, then,” she replied, pulling herself out of his grip. Looking up at her mate, Arina all but pleaded with him. “Tell me where you’re going.”

A sliver of anguish betrayed him, vanishing so quickly she might have imagined it. Eris became stone. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” he snapped, running both hands through his hair. “Because I need you to be safe—”

“I’m not fragile!”

“Of course you are!” he all but roared, striding toward her to grip the tops of her arms. “You are so absurdly fragile it makes me sick every time I think about it! Anyone who wants to get back at me only needs to harm you.”

“And who wants to hurt you, Eris?” she demanded, breathing so hard she felt like she wasn’t breathing at all. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“No.”

“Eris–”

“NO!” he shouted, half shoving her in his desperation to put space between them. “Ask anything else of me, but do not ask me that.”

Arina’s mind was a blur, trying to make sense of the fear coming off him, of his larger than life response. Eris, who was so typically unaffected, so cool even under pressure.

“What are you planning?” she whispered, dread sluicing from her bones. “Eris–”

“Nothing,” he said, running a hand down his face. “I am planning nothing.”

Careful words from a careful male. He wasn’t planning anything, but someone else was. His father, perhaps, or someone else he’d allied himself with and Eris was….Eris was helping with whatever it was.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, aren’t you?” she asked, cold horror washing over her. “And you don’t want me to be implicated. Is that it, then? You have a death wish?”

Eris set his jaw while Arina fought the urge to scream at him for being so stupid. So reckless.

“Eris—”

“Don’t,” he warned, holding a finger up between them. “Do not, Arina.”

“Eris,” she tried again, daring a step toward him. Eris only shook his head, reaching for his shirt laying neatly against the back of a chair.

“You thought I was fucking another female,” he hissed, realization dawning over him. He’d been so busy trying to convince her not to be angry with him that it hadn’t occurred to him the full scope of Arina’s suspicions. “You—”

He swallowed hard, shrugging into his shirt, and then his pants.

“Where are you going?” she asked helplessly. Eris only shook his head.

“Out.”

“Eris!” she yelled, but he strode from the room, boots in hand, and slammed the door loudly behind him.

It was tempting to try and run after him, to force this confrontation. But Arina was exhausted suddenly. Too confused to make sense of his own angry reaction. Eris had never told her he had any deep feelings beyond the bond—and only expressed his want with his hands. If he wanted to be angry, well.

Maybe he ought to learn how to use his words.

ERIS:

Eris slept like shit that last night Under the Mountain. In his mind, Eris replayed the last several weeks, trying to figure out why Arina would ever think he’d sleep with another female. Why didn't she realize how he felt—didn’t she know?

Eris remained in the lounge until his mother returned, flushed and bright eyed. Simmering in his resentment, Eris asked, “Well?”

“There is little Helion knows. Murmurings of a rebellion that would take years to achieve,” she whispered, adjusting the laces on her dress. “They meet above ground.”

“Morons,” he whispered, more to himself than his mother. “When Amarantha learns— and she will— I hope you’re prepared to do your mourning in secret.”

His mothers eyes flashed. “You can be cruel, Eris.”

He rose to his feet. “So can you.”

With nowhere but his bedroom left to go, Eris returned to find his wife curled up in bed, knees tucked beneath her chin. She smelled of salt and with a pang of regret, he realized she must have cried herself to sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, Eris picked up the blanket pooling on the floor and draped it over her. Arina’s skin was warm, her hair tangled from the bath she’d taken just before their fight broke out. As he undressed, Eris wondered if maybe he was just a terrible partner. Arina didn’t know how he felt because he couldn’t get the words out from behind his teeth.

Couldn’t risk saying them and watching her blink up at him, pity flooding her gaze.

Don’t you know what this is, he imagined her saying? I would leave you if I could.

Eris pulled her against him, pleased when she rolled over in her sleep to nuzzle her face against his neck.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered into her sweet smelling hair. Arina said nothing but after a moment her breathing evened out. If she hated him for the secrets he kept, Eris thought he could live with that. Even if it hurt, at least she’d be safe. If Helion was implicated, so would everyone around him. Rhysand would be called in to read minds, to force the truth from them all.

Arina could know nothing.

Even if she hated him for it and he was certain she would. His wife, his mother—all the females in his life were so hell bent on protecting Helion of all people. Helion who continued to put them in danger, who didn’t care if they died, if Eris had to watch his mother and wife subjected to his fathers cruelty.

Morning came too soon. Eris was pulled from his nightmares but soft fingers touching his jaw. “You’re back,” Arina whispered. Without opening his eyes, Eris turned to his side, gathering her in his arms.

“Lets go to the sea for a few days,” he whispered. “Just us.”

“And do what?”

Eris peeked open one eye. “I think you know exactly what.”

“We can’t run from our problems, Eris,” she said, unaware of just how appealing her mouth was.

“Of course we can,” he retorted with a long-suffering sigh. “All we have is running away from our problems.”

“We could face them head on?” she suggested. Eris laughed, stretching himself until he felt his spine crack.

“Let’s prioritize avoidance for now, Arina. There is too much happening and I…” I am in love with you.

The realization slammed into his chest like a force of nature. Of course he did—rationally, Eris must have known years ago, but he’d never truly thought about it. Never really considered why he did so much to try and keep her safe, to keep her happy.

He couldn’t tell her. Eris wouldn’t risk her rejection. Not until he knew for certain she returned his affection, at any rate. And judging by the guarded expression on her face, Arina was not in love with him. Eris swallowed that knowledge, thinking that she could be if he tried a little harder.

He knew how to court a female, had been trained by both his parents to be a gentleman. “Let me do something nice for my wife,” he finally said, cupping her face. “Let me make my poor behavior up to you.”

“I want you to tell me the truth, Eris,” she whispered, rubbing her nose against his own. “I want to be your equal.”

“You are—”

“I’m not. I’ll never be for as long as you’re keeping secrets even to protect me,” she whispered, as if someone might overheard them. “Who protects you, Eris?”

He felt defensive, stiffening at the implication he even needed to be protected. From her set jaw and the blazing look on her face, he knew what she wanted him to say, though. “Can’t you trust me, just this once?” he asked her desperately.

“If you want to go to the sea, you have to promise you’ll tell me what’s happening. Otherwise just take me to the Forest House.”

Take her to the Forest House where she’d spend their time above ground avoiding him until the inroads he’d made over the years eroded into nothing. Until his own father had a better relationship with his wife than Eris did.

“Fine,” he said, though Eris would give her nothing but the very basics. “But I want you to swear to me that we’re both walking out of this mountain alive.”

“Of course—”

“So there will be no heroics, Arina,” he hissed, holding her face too roughly in his hands. “No self-sacrifices. We will continue to remain neutral. Swear it.”

He could bind her by magic. Eris knew she felt it hanging between them, waiting for her agreement. Arina brought her mouth to his. “I swear, Eris.”

She’d kill him when she learned who was on the line. It didn’t matter—Eris had her agreement, and for the rest of the morning he was impossibly smug about it.

“Arina and I are going to the sea,” he informed his parents the moment Arina dropped her bag at his feet.

Beron Vanserra narrowed brown eyes. “For how long?”

“Three days,” Eris replied, certain that was the absolute longest his father would tolerate his absence. “I’ll check in on the neighboring cities and villages while I’m there.”

That appeased Beron enough to nod, sparing the High Lord the trouble of trying to round up stragglers himself. Of course, Eris had no intention of doing any of those things. He wasn’t going to help Amarantha enslave his people. If they’d managed to avoid her patrols, Eris didn’t see how that was his problem.

They stepped out of the tunnel into the fresh air of the middle and without another word, Eris grabbed Arina’s wrist and winnowed them away. What had once been so easy was laborious now, exhausting him when his boots slammed to the sandy, spiky ground of the sprawling, wooden estate.

“Fuck,” he panted, shaking out tingling hands. “Fuck that stupid cunt.”

Arina nodded, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind pointed ears. “Tell me, Eris.”

And so he did. Walking her through the empty halls that smelled of cedar and salt, Eris told her the basics of his fathers suspicions and what he knew. He didn’t tell her how he knew it, nor did he admit that most nights he stayed up to ensure his mother returned safely before his father discovered her missing. Arina was smart. He could see her piecing things together.

“Eris, if the courts are working together to fight Amarantha, we should—”

“Do nothing,” he interrupted, unbuttoning his jacket in the room they’d share for the next few days. “Because they’re going to lose.”

“Not if we all stood up to her—”

“Especially then,” Eris hissed as he kicked off his boots. She controls the magic of seven High Lords, she has most of our soldiers trapped in cages under that cursed mountain. The only people who can fight are courtiers—warrior trained, to be sure, but Hybern’s legions will wipe them out.”

“So then, what? We just…do nothing?”

“We hope Tamlin figures out how to beat her,” Eris said with a heavy sigh. “And bide our time, pretending we enjoy her reign, this new normal. We remain careful.”

“What if they can win?” Arina asked, biting her bottom lip. Eris sighed.

“They can’t. Not two of them, and not even three assuming Winter is stupid enough to join them. Dawn won’t and Night certainly won’t. Spring can’t, and Beron will risk nothing until he’s certain he can win. It’s delusion to think two, maybe three courts can take on the might of Amarantha.”

Arina bit her bottom lip. “It feels like cowardice to just…do nothing.”

“It’s self-preservation. Don’t fight something you can’t win. She has a weakness and it’s Tamlin. Eventually there will be an obvious way to exploit her through him and when we learn, we’ll take it. Carefully.”

“Promise?”

Eris made his way toward her, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers. “I hate this just as much as you do. I swear I’ll take the first opening I can…so long as it doesn’t risk you.”

“Careful, Eris,” she said, rising to her feet. Eris drank her in, dressed in warm marigold. He needed her in nothing at all. “I’ll start to think you care.”

He grinned wolfishly. “I owe you for last night.”

“Oh?”

“Come get in the bath with me,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Let me touch you.”

“Single minded,” she chided, though Arina still let him undo the laces of her gown. Eris took his time, indulging in the softness of her skin and the sight of her body revealed to him inch by glorious inch. He’d never be tired of the sight of her, would always be excited at the thought of having her.

After all, mates were rare, and belonged to those deserving. In his life, Eris had never expected to find his, and never imagined he even had one. And yet here she was, blinking big, green eyes up at him with open admiration and trust.

Eris was absurdly hard by the time he got her into the large, open bathing chamber, with its glass wall overlooking the moody, cold sea below. Arina was delighted by it all the same, ignoring him just long enough to step into the jetted water or realize what he was doing, how he was positioning her.

Not until was behind her, erection squashed against her spine. Eris hooked his ankles around her legs to spread her out, pushing them both forward until one of those bubbly gets was right against her cunt.

Arina gasped, wigging in an attempt to remove herself from the pressure, but Eris held firm.

“I said I owe you,” he reminded her, mouth against the nape of her neck.

“Eris—”

“You’ll come,” he interrupted, hands groping her breasts beneath the bubbles. “I want to watch.”

“You didn’t come last night,” she breathed, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,” Eris replied, thinking of Arina’s soapy, wet body beneath his own. Water pooled around her as she sank to her knees, sucking his cock into her warm, willing mouth.

Arina was clever, or at least smarter than him. Reaching behind her, her fingers curled around his cock. She gave him a firm tug, causing Eris to jerk upward. He was keyed up from the night before when he’d stupidly thought she was going to straddle his lap and ride him into oblivion.

She could stroke him into it, too, he decided. In fact, Eris quite liked what was happening. Arina spread her legs wider, held open by his own. Breasts heaving as the water continued to pound unrelenting against her cunt.

“Are you going to come for me?” he rasped, nipping her earlobe softly. “I want to hear you scream.”

“How long are you going to keep me here?” she panted, nails grazing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock.

“Until you beg me to fuck your pretty mouth.”

“You’ll be waiting forever,” she gasped, chest flushed from the heat of the water and the release he knew must be barreling toward her. Eris bucked into her hand, tempted to take himself into his own again, if only to force her to focus on coming. He couldn’t stop himself, addicted to the sight of her, to the feel of her skin against his own. And Eris was greedy more than anything else. If he came, too, they’d be wholly even.

And he’d last longer the second time he fucked her. He could spend hours edging them both, drawing out their pleasure until she did beg. Eris so loved when she did.

Panting, unable to stop the soft whine that escaped him or his bucking hips, Eris could feel release gathering along his spine. He needed to come, and her hand was perfect. Squeezed tight, using the water to heighten the orgasm racing for him. She squirmed, the swell of her ass teasing his balls until Eris couldn’t take it anymore.

He bit her shoulder to keep from crying out, plucking at her nipples until Arina bowed upward, writhing desperately to escape the onslaught of the water.

Despite his own throbbing cock, still spurting an impossible amount of fluid, Eris pushed her back down.

“I’m not done,” he growled.

“Fuck me—Eris,” she pleaded, her voice rising in pitch. She was going to come again and oh, he couldn’t look away. “Eris please, Eris—”

The sound of her pleasure echoed off the glass, echoing down the emptied halls. Only then did Eris unhook his legs and free her, and only long enough to set her on the edge of the sink. He wasn’t going to make it to the bed—he wanted to feel the aftershocks on his cock, wanted to bring her right back up without any reprieve.

“What happened to my mouth?” she panted, his tricky female.

“It can wait,” he groaned, sliding his wet cock into her tight cunt. “Gods, Arina…”

The sound of their slick flesh joining and pulling apart was the most obscene thing Eris could remember hearing. He needed her just like this, needed to keep her with him somehow. And beyond that, Eris needed her to love him with the same desperation that he loved her. He wanted to hear her say it and didn’t know how to tell her first.

Digging her nails into his shoulders, Arina pressed her forehead against his own. “No more lies,” she panted, holding him close. “No more secrets.”

Maybe that was the start, then. “Nothing between us,” he agreed with a shuddering groan. “Nothing but this.”

And Eris swore, as they came again, that it wasn’t just nothing looking back at him. When Arina’s eyes opened, arms twined around his neck so he could drag her to the bed, that it was the same thing glowing in his chest reflected in that mossy green gaze.

It was love.

#I LIVE #and you all think im just abandoning things PSYCHE #im just BEHIND SCHEDULE #anyway #erina #eris vanserra

66 notes · View notes

mrsnancywheeler · 18 days

Note

Okay let’s began girlies 👹

Billy’s muse writing “Lacy” about Daisy. You mentioned she writes songs once. You also mentioned (during Chicago show) she felt some jealousy towards Billy and Daisy but imagine if throughout Daisy being in the band she feels jealous of her. She feels jealous of the way Billy and Daisy act around each other (cause I could imagine the tension between them still being around)

But to Lacy being about Daisy. It’s clear muse has a lot of reverence for Daisy.

“Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry

Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?”

I think the idea of someone being sweet but being jealous of them is big here. Daisy is sweet to her, she’s so nice and caring yet she can’t help but feel like shit when Daisy is around Billy.

~~~~~

“Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies

Did I ever tell you that I'm not doing well?”

1. I mean…daisies….Daisy

2. I think Muse tells Daisy a lot but I doubt she’d tell her if she was jealous of her, that she hates when she’s around Billy

~~~~~

“I linger all the time

Watchin', hidden in plain sight”

I feel like this is especially for when they do shows. Muse always there but (especially during shows) she’s invisible.

~~~~~

“Smart sexy Lacy, I'm losing it lately

I feel your compliments like bullets on skin”

Feeling jealous over someone who is genuinely nice to her, that has showed no interest in Billy probably does make Muse feel like she’s loosing it. like she’s crazy. And Daisy is smart, she’s talented, she’s beautiful.

Plus Daisy is NICE the fact that she’s nice to Muse. She compliments her, tells her she deserves better. And it hurts, it hurts that this girl she’s jealous over is so nice

~~~~~~~

“Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?”

I think that Billy may be an asshole but he does admit that Daisy is talented, he probably talks

to Muse about it and Billy never genuinely compliments her so of course it’s gonna feel like shit

~~~~~~

“My stomach's all in knots

You got the one thing that I want”

I think it’s like the feeling of being jealous, it feels like knots in your stomach yk?

And Daisy has Billy’s attention in a way Muse doesn’t. Daisy can push back on Billy and nothing happens. Daisy can do as she likes and Billy has to go with it. Daisy isn’t scared of loosing Billy. Muse wants all of that.

~~~~~~

“Ooh, I try, I try, I try

Try to rationalize

People are people

But it's like you're made of angel dust”

The idea that Muse has this reverence for Daisy. Like sure “Daisy is just another person” but she isn’t! She’s special. She’s beautiful, talented, she’s smart, she commands respect. (Plus the way Billy looks at her on stage)

~~~~~

I feel like muse holds a lot of jealousy for Daisy. Not only stemming from the fact that Daisy can speak out for herself, can do what she wants, but also because of the way Billy acts around her.

-🌾anon

BEEN SO EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT THIS, LET'S DIVE IN

billy is unfaithful, we been knew this, and him and daisy are like twin flames that could destroy each other with passion. and muse can feel the tension, feel that billy wouldn't be above getting emotionally hooked onto daisy. and she just wonders, why not her? since she was 19 she's devoted her life to this, to being there for billy, she doesn't have a career, hell he doesn't even want to label what they are, but she's stuck around because she's young and naive and attached to the first older guy who showed her attention. but why the hell does daisy get the attention she wants? the passionate billy? the tension? it eats muse up inside.

and daisy defends her from billy, tries to get her to leave, to find herself, it's somewhat nice. to be seen as person rather than an object of affection, and daisy is the sweetest thing in this side of hell. the endless cycle of love and hate, adoration and degradation, billy and eddie.

billy and daisy even have chemistry singing in the studio and just imagining muse getting more visibily upset after watching them sing together and daisy asks her what up because she cares and muse quickly shakes it off because of she lets daisy know, or billy, then the threat is real, the fear really exists.

and this especially increases during shows. muse watching how close they get, the unmistakable feeling of pure chemistry between them, and muse is muse so her reactions constantly change but at her core it just shakes her all the way through every time. sometimes she flirts with eddie after a show to make billy pay attention to her, to feel his passion focused on her, other times she's so happy the moment they get off stage, wanting to help him out anyway she can, please him. desperate for him to look at her like he was looking at daisy. sometimes she's mopey and lashes out at daisy. muse is just a mess.

daisy is totally telling muse all the great things about herself as proof that she should leave billy and all muse can think is about how those traits compare to daisy, someone billy could easily become addicted too.

"you're so talented." 'you're more talented'

"you're stunning." 'not as much as you are, not as gorgeous.'

"youe heart is so sweet." 'not like yours, or the rage for you wouldn't be hidden in there. '

OKAY AND when billy starts writing songs with daisy and he stops consistently telling muse he's written a song for her. like of course quite a few are and daisy has just worked on them too, but it starts to feel to muse like he's writing about daisy and she's writing about him. so listening to him ramble on about how amazing, talented, the great song him and daisy worked on, muse starts to feel dejected, like billy's found a new prize toy, a new favorite puppy. and sometimes she just tries to blow him just to get him to starts complimenting her head instead.

and muse totally starts acting like a clingy, lost puppy when there's days in the studio where billy's infatuation with daisy is too visible for her to ignore it. and it usually annoys billy more but then when daisy picks up that there's definitely something going on with muse and that she needs more of something. and she's so sympathetic it makes muse more sick.

muse wants to be daisy so that billy will pay attention, so that she can feel confident in what she says and does, so that when she leaves she won't come back, so that she won't need billy or eddie . but she's not daisy and it's ruining her.

#wanda 💋#billy dunne x reader #billy dunne #djats x reader #🌾 anon

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carbo-ships · 7 months

Text

Chapter XXXIII

Beginning: Chapter I Previous: Chapter XXXII CW: This chapter includes references to sex (in very broad and general terms).

The tour bus stopped for lunch in a small town in a German valley. It was a beautiful day and a fairly short drive to the next day's venue, so the band decided to take an extended break from the road and spend the rest of the afternoon in town. Aether and the rest of the ghouls had on their old silver masks and changed into casual clothing. Their tails were hidden up the backs of their jackets. They certainly looked odd as they wandered through the outdoor market, but not enough to cause a panic. Ardis had similarly changed out of her uniform and shut off her projections, appearing perfectly human in a pair of skinny jeans and a sleeveless shirt.

The angel followed Aether as they weaved through the bustling streets. It seemed as if the whole town had come to the market to enjoy the pleasant weather and bright sunshine. Locals sold produce and baked goods from stalls that lined the village’s winding paths. "Here," Aether finally said after almost losing sight of her for the umpteenth time, offering her his hand. "I don't want you getting lost in the crowd."

She hesitated, looking at him in surprise. "Are you sure? What if people see?"

Aether smiled behind his mask. "I don't mind if you don't. Besides, I don't imagine we have very many fans in a place like this. I'm unlikely to be recognized."

She grinned at him bashfully before taking his hand in hers. A buzz of excitement shot through her as they continued on their way. They were holding hands – in public! She had to make a conscious effort to keep her halo and wings from appearing.

He glanced at her over his shoulder as he led her through the throng and chuckled when he saw the giddy smile on her face. "We can do this more often if it makes you this happy!"

“Yes, please!” she giggled. They explored the market together, admiring the colorful stalls and wonderful smells. After buying a few snacks, they decided to find some peace and quiet on an isolated hill that overlooked the village.

Once all the townspeople were nothing more than little dots below them, Aether sat down on the grass and removed his mask to enjoy the warm breeze on his face. His tail slipped out from under his hoodie and stretched itself out as he let out a pleased sigh. Ardis followed suit and allowed her halo and wings to light back up. This was nice, she thought to herself. No pretense, no disguises, just the two of them. She wished every day could be like this. She’d never admitted this to anyone, but she often daydreamed about what life would be like if she and Aether were both humans. She liked to imagine it might be like this. Aether used one of his horns as a bottle opener to uncap the foreign soda he’d purchased, making her giggle. "It really is a treat to see you out of uniform,” he said, a grin tugging on his lips as he looked her up and down.

Ardis cocked her head, nibbling at her pastry. “What’s wrong with my uniform?” She’d never heard him comment on it before. In fact, it was hardly worth commenting on, she thought to herself. It was rather plain.

"Nothing’s wrong with it, per se,” he mused, “but if you don't mind me saying so, it does nothing for your curves."

“My curves?” she laughed, giving him a strange look. “What curves? I’m scrawny!”

He chuckled and took a sip of his soda. “You’re certainly petite, principessa, but you do have a nice figure.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Oh. Um, thank you.” She’d never thought about her body very much – at least not regarding whether a man might find it attractive. That had never mattered before.

“You know I like your waist,” he reminded her. “I’ve made that clear on more than one occasion. And seeing you like this… Well, it puts ideas in my head that your superiors would not approve of." A sly smirk appeared on his face, revealing the rather salacious undertone of his confession.

Ardis was rendered speechless for a moment. "I–" Her eyes quickly scanned his face for any indication that he was kidding and found nothing. "Oh. I– Aether, you know that I– There's rules. I can't, um…" Certainly he knew that... Right?

"I know, I know. Don't worry. I'm not suggesting that we do, dolcezza," he assured her quickly, thinking back on how flustered she'd become while kissing him that morning. "I know that would be too much for you. Just know that I would if I could."

She stared at him with wide eyes. She had no idea how to respond.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. I've been prepared to bed you since the day we met. You know that."

"I– But– But that was different! That was your assignment!"

He offered her an embarrassed smile. "It's not like anyone was twisting my arm, tesoro. I was very willing. I’ve told you, you’re cute. I mean, the motivations behind it are different now, but I've always been attracted to you.” His eyes flicked up to her halo and his brow raised. "Is, er… Is that normal?"

"Is– Is what?"

"You've gone pink."

"Huh?" She glanced over her shoulder at her wings to find that their usual yellow hue had been replaced with a burning magenta. She gasped, mortified. She frantically tried to make her wings and halo vanish completely. They flickered erratically for a moment before finally disappearing.

"What does that mean?" Aether asked curiously with a chuckle.

"Nothing!" she said quickly. Truth be told, her projections had never done that before. Not once in all her years. She'd heard rumors that it was possible, but she'd never seen it herself and had certainly never experienced it.

"Did… Did I do that?" His tail began to swing side to side, showing just how delighted the notion made him.

She looked away, embarrassed, and refused to answer. It was clear he had.

His expression turned more sympathetic. "Really? The mere mention of intercourse?"

Ardis could only give him a slight nod. It was a topic she’d never really discussed with anyone, except for that first night in Aether’s bed.

“Oh, cara,” he tutted, “come here." He set down his drink and opened his arms to her, inviting her to cuddle. She immediately accepted his offer, climbing into his lap to hide her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ardis, I didn’t mean to cause you any sort of distress.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I just… didn’t realize you felt that way.”

He kissed the top of her head. "Of course I do. I confess, I'm flattered that you don’t seem repulsed by the idea," he chuckled softly.

“It’s not something I’ve ever given much thought to,” she admitted.

Aether smiled. “I can tell. But that’s alright. I just thought you ought to know. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that you look particularly lovely today. Is that a bit easier for you to handle?” He felt her nod, and kissed her temple. Her projections hesitantly flickered back to life, still bright pink. He admired them silently, refraining from commenting on them for her sake. The color suited her, he thought to himself – or perhaps he was just proud that he’d made her so flustered. Either way, he secretly hoped to see them like this again. “So when I’m up there on stage, thrusting my hips at you, what’s going through your mind, if not sex? Something makes your cheeks go red.”

She sighed and finally looked up at him. “Just how strong and handsome you are. I’m– I’m not oblivious, of course, I know that’s what you’re miming. But I guess I just… When you do that, all I can think about is how badly I want to sit on your lap and kiss you. My imagination doesn’t make it much farther than that.”

He supposed that didn’t surprise him. The sight of his bare biceps seemed to elicit the same reaction from her as the movement of his hips. It was sweet. “Well,” he chuckled, gently taking her chin in one hand, “you’re already in my lap…”

Next: Chapter XXXIV

#carbo writes

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dainty-fingertips · 2 years

Text

Encore? ||TSSM doc ock x fem. reader

word count: 2865

summary: after the events of the weeks before, Yn shows up to what she soon discovers is the hideout for the newly banded Sinister Six. Upon entry, she discovers someone she did not expect to discover, and unearthed feelings that had previously gone unnoticed.

trigger warnings: none :)

final part of what became a collab with @ybkayley!! :DD

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been, no… A dream. Some sort of cruel hallucination, probably induced by some sort of manic episode she’d fallen into on the street. In her hands was the card handed to her by Dr Adrian Toomes, who had become more well-known as Vulture in the past month or so. She swallowed thickly and looked up. Under any normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have really thought much about the building. However, seeing it now as a hiding ground for supervillains, it made sense. It was 7 pm, just as Dr Toomes had instructed her at the bus stop the day before. The sky was overcast and the breeze lapped at her hair without much intention, luckily not storming as it had been. She placed the card in her pocket again. She’d been pulling it in and out, in and out, almost compulsively.

What had she to lose? Honestly? What better choice did she have than to go see the person who’d reinstated her doctorate? Why had they done it? What had they gained? She wiped her nose, now red and slightly sore from being out in the rain for so long yesterday. Only when she reached for the door did she fully grasp the intensity of her hand tremors caused by the cold. Damn that Osborn. Damn him, damn him, damn him… She rapped her knuckles feverishly on the door before moving them back to her pocket. Almost immediately - which startled her - The door opened slightly. She saw a pair of wide eyes staring her down before it opened fully, a loud metallic creak filling the air around them. “Doctor Ln.” Toomes said with a smile.

“You look drier.” He mused, inviting her inside. “I should hope so.” She chuckled dryly, shuffling inside and quickly being hugged by a wave of warm air. Shuddering at the pleasant feeling, she relaxed her arms a bit in her coat. Her hands slowly stopped quivering. “I’m glad your punctuality hasn’t faltered.” He smirked softly, looking at his watch. This elicited a stark chuckle from her; something she’d not done in quite a while. “Ask Osborn. I never even called out s-” her head quickly bent down in a muffled sneeze. “-sick.” Toomes looked at her curiously, his smirk faltering. “You don’t have a cold, do you?” She quickly wiped her nose on her sleeve and shook her head. “I don’t! I’m just a little chilly.” And though he didn’t believe her, he didn’t press the issue.

She was led through the opening hallway into what had effectively become a ragtag penthouse. It was effective as a living space, however; while not terribly pretty, it was overall rather neat. There was a mound on the couch, she noticed, which was laying upon a curtain of plastic draped over the cushion. Closer inspection revealed it not a mound, but a man; a man in a green sweater with buzzed hair. He was taking a nap. Toomes motioned for her to be quiet and to follow him into another part of the house that he and who-knows-who-else lived in. The journey to the room they were headed to was, in essence, unremarkable. He quietly answered a few of her questions as he and her ventured down the corridor, but most of it was her silently trying to absorb as much as she could. God, what if he worked for the mafia? Hammerhead? Kingpin? The prospect of being indebted to any of them made her feel ill. “Who… is it, exactly, that you work for?” She murmured to him. “An old friend.” He responded lightly. He wouldn’t elaborate.

A weary sigh left her lips as she fumbled the card in her pocket around her fingers. They’d reached the room. Toomes reached out and pushed it open, revealing a laboratory. It was of similar design to her own at Oscorp. White concrete walls, white tile floors, a staple in most labs. The atmosphere here felt less like an insane asylum, however, and more like a regular laboratory. Upon glancing around, she had missed the large figure at the desk in the center of the room. “Doctor, she’s here.” Toomes called, catching both his employers’ and Yn’s attention.

Her heart fell through the floor.

The abstract spindliness of Otto Octavius’ actuators was shown to her again as they craned their gaze, as did he, to the door; and to her. He looked the same, but he looked so, so different, too. “Doctor Octavius?” She breathed out in a single second-long breath. He looked upon her as though the sun, moon, and stars had all collided in his laboratory. How long had it been? He gazed in disbelief. “Doctor Ln.” He replied, approaching her with a smile. Toomes ushered her inside and closed the door behind her. She stumbled forward at his push but quickly grounded herself and approached him with absolute bewilderment. For the second time that night, she found herself swallowing thickly. She wanted to pull him into a kiss if anything. His new outfit was so… handsome on him. He was just as cute as he was before, but now… something else was there, too. It made her heart beat a little faster the more she admired him. “Wh…What happened, Doctor?” She asked in awe, eyes flickering rapidly from his eye pieces to his trenchcoat.

He sighed. “Osborn happened.” He murmured, stepping one step closer to her. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He finished off, smiling guiltily at her. Without much prompting, she opened her arms slightly, and he met her in an embrace. “Your stutter, what happened to it?” She asked shakily, gripping the back of his trenchcoat tightly in her hands, of which were warming up significantly thanks to him. “Doctor, you knew me as a weak and pathetic excuse of a man.” He said, placing his hand on the back of her head and closing his eyes. “I’m different now. No longer will you need fret about me.” He continued, breathing deeply to try and calm the fervent racing of his heart. “I’m finally as strong as you.” Were his finishing words before she pulled back and instead held her hands together in front of her. God, she wished she could hug him forever…

“Doctor Octavius, what do you mean?” She asked. “You were always as strong as I was. I even always thought moreso.” She stopped him as he began to shake his head at her words. “Doctor, I’m telling you the truth! God,” She laughed dryly, averting her eyes. “You were the only reason I stayed at that goddamn job.” She quickly raised her brows and grinned at him in thought. “You and the soft rock mix.” He smiled, his expression turned bashful just like she knew he was. Just like he had been for all those years. “You were never weak. You were kind. Certainly made you more of a human than Osborn.” She shook her head softly, looking into his strapless goggles. “God, I missed you.” She finished out, moving her gaze to the floor again. He chuckled softly and she could sense something had changed. She didn’t realize the full extent to which her words had reached him. He repressed the tears in his eyes as he motioned her to follow him to another spot in the lab. “I have something to show you.” He said abruptly. Reaching up, he turned on a lamp in a darker corner of the lab.

The radio!

He was able to grab it when breaking back in to get his lab equipment along with the CD sleeve. She gasped softly and quickly approached it with a smile. “It’s our radio!” Quickly, she checked the CD player - sure enough, the soft rock mix was still in there. “I haven’t been listening to anything else since you left.” He said quietly. He couldn’t think of anything other than her whenever Eyes Without a Face would begin to play. In fact, he couldn’t work, either. Intrusive thoughts tended to die down when that song played; all he could think about were his dance sessions with her. That’s all he wanted to think about. Before he realized she’d even done anything, he heard once again the beginning chords of Bennie and the Jets. This time was different, though. This time, she was here again. She was with him and he could see the way she smiled as the song began to play. A swift turn from her with an asking expression on her face alluded him to her intentions; a dance. Otto was surprised. So soon upon their reuniting, she already wanted to dance with him again?

God, he missed her.

She took his hands in hers, just like she had those weeks ago. He cautiously them as they slowly began to pick up a small dance like they had before. He soon remembered how wonderful it felt to do this with her. The emptiness he’d felt in her absence, the dullness in his world after she’d left; it was beginning to crumble away. “I wanted to thank you.” She said softly, swaying with him across the tile. “For doing… so much for me. I don’t know how the hell you did it, but…” She chuckled dryly. “I really do appriciate it. I owe you my life.” She sighed. Otto shook his head softly. “No, I’d say we’re quite even. This was my thank you for doing all that you did for me at Oscorp, Doctor.” He replied with growing calm, squeezing her hand a little bit tighter. She looked befuddled for a moment. “Thank me for doing what, exactly? I only did what you asked of me.” Was her response. It was met with a scoff and a sturdy shake of his head. “I know you’re more observant than that, Doctor.” He mused, suddenly spinning her around and pulling her into him. The action made her gasp softly as her back was pulled against his front. “You did what I asked of you, yes, but you did so much more.”

Dumbfounded, she quirked a brow and looked at him oddly. “I see you’re confused. Allow me to elaborate.” Turning her back to face him, he looked down at her with hidden eyes brimming with enamor. She looked just how he remembered her, and the notion made him grin. “Though our relationship was professional, you did so much for me outside of the world of work. Possibly without realizing it.” He stepped back, she stepped forward. “You were kind, Doctor.” He stepped forward, she stepped back. “While it was only second nature to you, it wasn’t for anyone else at Oscorp.” He pulled her closer and placed a hand on her back, and in response she carefully placed both hands on his shoulders. “You kept me happy for years - sane, dare I say - and that’s why when you were let go, I…” He trailed off. There was thick silence between them when the words left his mouth, though sentence unfinished.

Her hands trembled slightly, though it wasn’t because of the cold this time. Their dance dwindled down to them holding each other in an awkward sort of embrace with enough space to be able to look each other in the eye. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, see…” He murmured, almost embarrassed. “Oh, Otto. Neither did I.” She said quietly in response. “You’re my best friend. I was horrified to leave because…” she swallowed thickly her pride and looked down at his shirt collar. “B-because I didn’t want you to find someone better. It’s selfish, but… but I wanted to be your… best friend.” Neither breathed for a moment. Their chests were tight and neither of them could look at the other. “Was that… all? That you wanted to be?” He inquired hesitantly, looking at her with a slightly surprised look c rossing his face. “Yn, you were my only friend.”

Yn.

Yn, Yn, Yn. God, what a word! What a sentence to say to someone at a time such as this. She looked a lot of ways in that moment. She looked pitying and horrified and happy and surprised all at the same time. It wasn’t a look she sported often, granted, and didn’t convey her feelings very well, but who could have known? “Y-Your… only friend?’ She exasperatedly insisted a second statement. “If I had thought of you as any less, it simply wouldn’t have been true.” Her eyes flickered back and forth between his own as if looking for something. A sign of exaggeration, a lie somewhere? But nothing was found. Nothing signaled any less than what he’d just told her. “And if I’m being honest?” He continued. This, she could tell immediately, was dangerous territory. She felt like her feet slipped off of the ground and her entire body was beginning to float. “I think I might be in love with you.” He said it slowly and he said it directly to her, sure to convey that he meant it. And mean it he did, because he nearly collapsed after the words left his mouth.

“I was just… afraid of the consequences. Of us being co-workers and… d-dating.” He stuttered again for the first time in a while. She often had that effect on him, anyway. Her throat closed up and she looked at him like a lost puppy that had just found its mother again. “Who knows what Osborn would have done if he knew…” He murmured, mostly to himself. “Love, huh?” Her heart nearly exploded out of her chest. In that moment she fully realized the extent of her own feelings, too. She was in love just as well as he was. It wasn’t normal, she suddenly thought, to think of how cute your friends' glasses made them so frequently. It occurred to her that friends didn’t look at each other the way that she looked at him. A look that harbored such heavily romantic connotations, a look that made him blush on multiple occasions. It wasn’t because it was fun, she discovered. She was simply… being honest. She looked at him with love.

She consequently discovered that she loved quite a lot about him, thinking back on their relationship. His stutter, his body, his hair, his glasses, his eyes, his tacky bowtie she helped him fix whenever it would be worn incorrectly… she loved it all. She loved holding his hands while they danced and she loved being close to him, too. She loved talking to him and she loved his laugh. She loved him. And in her entire career as a scientist, this was the most important breakthrough she had ever had. “Otto…” She whispered, her voice close to breaking. Hearing his first name made him shudder gently. “Otto, I love you too.”

He didn’t know what to say. Again, she’d completely knocked him off his feet. That was a habit she seemed to have. She didn’t know what to say, either. She only shakily smiled at him, eyes brimming with complete surprise. Otto blinked a few times and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. She tucked her head into his shoulder and squeezed him tightly, bringing him into her embrace once more. He did the same, and with every second that passed, he squeezed her a little tighter; though never enough to cause her discomfort. Coming to terms with reality was luckily a strong suit of his, being a scientist, and so it only took him a minute or two before he was waxing poetic about his feelings to her with almost childlike wonder.

“Otto.” She said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder and bringing his gaze down to her once again. “Y-Yes?” he said quickly, flustered at his fit of rambling. No other words left his mouth - or hers, for that matter - because before either had time to speak, her lips were gently pressed onto his own in a kiss that was five years in the waiting. Somewhere, a child was being born. A masterpiece created. New, life-saving technology created. Somewhere in the world, a miracle was occurring. But here, now, Otto Octavius was receiving his very first kiss with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was perfect in every way, even her flaws; they only made him love her more. He clasped a hand behind her head once again and pulled her into him as they kissed for the first time. It was like a Monet painting; their kiss was bright and well blended, movements of their lips akin to brushstrokes on canvas. She was a masterpiece, and he, a gallery for display.

They pulled away from each other's lips for a hasty and deep breath. For the first time in her life, she felt fulfilled after a kiss. She felt it truly meant something. The kiss meant something to her because Otto meant everything to her. She couldn’t help but smile and pull him into another long-winded kiss that would leave them both more breathless than the one before. And by God, she’d never regret it for the rest of her life.

chapter(?) 1: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/dainty-fingertips/690731654201950208?source=share

chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ybkayley/691215016131706880?source=share

#doc ock x reader #doctor octopus #tssm #tssm doc ock #tssm doctor octopus #the spectacular spider man #sinister six #otto octavius #otto octavius x reader #doctor octopus x reader

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izar-tarazed · 2 months

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01. The magician and 10. Wheel of Fortune; for Izar, 18. The moon; for Ensha :)

(major arcana inspired headcanon questions | prompt list is here)

🧙‍♀️ the magician : how does your muse feel about fate ? do they believe they can change their own destiny ?

That’s actually something that troubles Izar a lot. She finds herself in a world where the notion of an assigned fate is a certainty, not a belief; as an astrologer, her whole profession—and identity—evolves around the idea of reading fate from the stars; and as a Tarnished, she has her path seemingly laid out for her.

She struggles with all of that, and feels increasingly guilty that she doesn’t really desire to claim the Elden Throne. Also, her understanding of astrology is that the stars—when in movement—hold warnings and promises; inscribed in them are possibilities rather than destinies set in stone. When she gets to know Ranni who is all about forging her own fate, I think Izar is particularly impressed by how unapologetic Ranni is about that. In a way, Izar has always been sure that she can change her destiny, but felt as if she’s not allowed to and should feel guilty about it. So part of her journey is to become more confident about what she desires.

[Edit: I wrote this before the latest update in our RP thread, and Nepenthe’s words there are exactly what Izar needs to hear to become more confident about her own wishes, fitting so well that I almost thought I had already posted this!]

🎡 the wheel of fortune : how well / badly does your muse take setbacks on their goals ?

For the most part, Izar is surprisingly chill about that. She’ll take a deep breath, consider her options, get a clear idea of the damage done or taken, then figure out the next step. She’s persistent and will just try again. That mindset might partially be related to her condition as a Tarnished who knows that, in a worst case scenario, she’ll just be brought back by the grace: Izar has the certainty that in most cases, she’ll always get another shot.

Sometimes, she will need time to deal with whatever happened. (If, for instance, one of her star maps would get destroyed briefly before finishing, she’d basically be grieving before she can move on and start anew.) But it’s also true that sometimes she’ll choose to walk away and come back later not because she really needs to, but simply because it’s the easier path instead of getting back at it right away. (This is where she differs from Ensha, who’s all about putting in the damn work, and starting right now.)

🌘 the moon : what does your muse long for ? is it a realistic desire ?

So Ensha has been stubbornly silent about this, but I keep coming back to the idea that he’s basically longing for freedom while still having purpose (and a place to belong). To an extent, this is what he has when he’s travelling with Izar, but he’s also still in Gideon’s service. And while I’m still not completely sure how I imagine that relationship, it’s sure to be complicated, and not one Ensha could walk away from so easily. After all, serving has given him purpose for a long time; so much so that he’s somehow convinced that they are, in a way, inseparable, and he can’t forfeit one without the other. To him, there is no purpose without commitment, and freedom comes at the expense of both. Every choice that he makes for himself first and foremost does, at the same time, feel like it threatens to sever his commitment, and therefore his purpose. Ensha doesn’t have the guidance of grace, but—not unlike Izar—, he fears what he might lose if he strays off his path.

What he longs for is to have both, a path of his own choosing and purpose, or at least, a sense of belonging—but to him, that doesn’t seem possible, not in the long run.

#asks for izar #asks for ensha #thank you! those were fun to think about #a letter affixed to a graveyard crow's leg | asks

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lilies-and-forget-me-nots · 1 year

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👀 , 🍓 ,💧 <33

muse talking about the mun!

👀 Do the mun and you get along?

“Of course we do!”

“I think she’s sweet, but she has a very… strange obsession with Vampires. Scratch that, any kind of demon as long as they have fangs and a taste for human blood.”

admin: bitey sexy

“Hah… I wonder if you’ll change your mind if something actually bites you one day. I hope nothing does.”

admin: i like vampires

“Of course you do, Yna. Of course you do.”

“She certainly likes drawing me. I can’t say we get along personality-wise, however.”

admin: you’re sexy but you’re a freak good thing i’m into that tho

“Right. How about you show them the mountains upon mountains of ‘doodles’ you made of me and let them judge who’s the real freak between us?”

admin: okay listen

🍓 What is something you and the mun disagree on?

“There’s not a lot we disagree on… but recently she’s been having this, well, quote-on-quote ‘Rukimania’. I don’t get it. We used to mutually dislike the guy, but you’re suddenly kicking your feet every time you think of him!”

admin: hear me out,

“No, I’d rather not. That guy is nuts! I don’t want to say it’s something wrong with your own taste in men, but… there's definitely something wrong with your taste in men."

admin: hear me out,

“I think I’m very straightforward to write.”

admin: no u are not

“Is it because our personalities are vastly different? Relatability shouldn’t factor into good writing… you must be an ineffectual writer, then. Why give yourself the mountainous task of writing me when you don’t have the ability to do so? In fact, the fact that you think I'm hard to write compared to miss goody-two-shoes coward over there says a lot about you."

("Why am I getting dragged into this??")

admin: wfkjfhshdfdf

“Wha— are you really enjoying this? You really are a huge weirdo."

💧 How often do you annoy the mun? And with what?

“I can’t say it ‘annoys’ her, but apparently she always gets secondhand embarrassment when she’s writing me. I don’t get it, what’s so embarrassing about me?”

admin: would you like to read about your first day at the sakamaki manor again

“You wouldn’t fare much better. I was panicking!”

admin: i would simply throw myself into shuu’s arms and call it a day.

“I— you would not get the reaction you’re hoping for if you did that.”

admin: i can fix them

“You know what? I think she annoys me more than I annoy her at times.”

admin: :(

“Wait, are you really getting dejected over that? Um... I don’t really mean it. You’re like my favorite annoying fly!”

admin: ok ill take it

“I would say that my favorite hobby is annoying her—it is, but it’s always a coin toss whether she’d actually get annoyed or find it hot. I’m a little concerned if that’s really her taste.”

admin: i wud not be writing u if i wasn’t enjoying it at least a little

“I can say the worst things about her and she’d just giggle about it. Look: you’re way too plain and unhealthy for vampires to enjoy drinking your blood. Do you really think someone who inhales milk tea like it’s air and rots in bed every time she has free time would be appetizing to vampires? You'd give that little purple freak a run for his money in terms of blood sugar levels. Let’s not get started on your personality. Do you think you’d survive a day with those kinds of men? I bet you’d either lose your mind in less than 24 hours or get yourself killed driving them crazy.”

admin: tell me something new babygrill

“Hm... I think I'm beginning to figure something out. Also, Shuu is the most boring one out of all of them and you’re delusional for thinking that he’s anything more than a good-for-nothing who only gets by because he’s the pretty tortured boy archetype.”

admin: bitch get back here

“Oh, finally. I was beginning to think you actually lost it.”

#ask #ask game #kindan-no-kanojo #bullying simulator | mun and muse interaction #is it obvious that i like getting bullied by these two #its only been a month since i made those sprites and i already hate them get ready for a revamp in t-minus 2 hours

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riversofmars · 11 months

Text

Songs of Love 2023 - Day 8

Rating: G Prompt: "Playlist Shuffle" - "Ex-wives" from Six Summary: While Helen is engrossed in a research task, Liv starts pulling books off the library shelves to pass the time. Reading about Henry VIII sparks a conversation about marriage. The med-tech is keen to know what her best friend would be looking for in a spouse.

Don't Lose Your Head

“Henry the Eighth…” Liv read out the title of the book she’d pulled off the shelf at random. It was leather bound and dusty and she coughed as the fine particles whirled up into the air.

“Tudor King of England 1509 to 1547,” Helen commented mildly, turning a page and scribbling some notes on a sheet of paper. They were in a library, some time in the 22nd century where books had largely gone out of fashion as most things were available digitally. Libraries such as this one, remained mostly untouched for those that liked to still indulge in the feel of a page in their hands. The state of the place indicated it wasn’t a great many people which the med-tech considered sad.

“Show off,” she chuckled and leaned against the shelf while opening up the book. She was severely bored. The task the Doctor had given them was one far better suited to her best friend’s abilities rather than her own and while Helen poured over old books and census data at a desk, Liv wandered around aimlessly, trying to entertain herself.

“I’m British, do you have any idea how many times we talked about him in school?” The linguist shot back as she briefly looked up from her work and gave her a smile. Liv loved that smile. And she loved the way her best friend threw herself into research with enthusiasm. They were meant to reconstruct the family tree of some lord they suspected of being an alien and Helen seemed to feel right at home with the task and in the old library. Her eyes twinkled with intelligence and it was captivating.

Liv shook her head free of the musings that came to her completely unbidden, and she forced her attention back to the book in her hand.

“Sounds like a bit of a dick if you ask me,” she commented, upon skim reading the opening paragraph of the book.

“Hm?” Helen appeared to only be half listening, so the med-tech kept reading. She didn’t want to disturb her friend from doing actual, important work, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself from exclaiming:

“Six wives? Bloody hell!” She looked up and the linguist did too, with a kind smile on her face:

“Are you, by chance, getting sidetracked?” She questioned in amusement. “We’re trying to piece together a family tree, not launch into a history lesson on the Tudors.” The reality was, however, that she really didn’t need Liv’s help. She would only get in the way.

“Alright, know-it-all. Perhaps I have developed a keen interest in the British monarchy of the 20th century,” Liv quipped as bantering with her best friend was one of her preferred past-times.

“16th century, 1509 to 1547, it’s like you’re not even listening,” Helen smirked and the med-tech huffed:

“You’re in a particularly infuriating mood today.”

“You bring it out in me,” the blonde hummed teasingly and Liv shot her a glare.

“Watch it,” she warned her but laughed regardless. “Is everything alright with you?” She asked as her friend seemed to be in an odd mood as well. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It wasn’t anything bad - at least she didn’t think so! - but there was definitely something going on with her.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Helen answered with a soft, honest smile. “I actually am really good. This is nice.”

“Sitting in an old library, you doing all the work and me jabbering on at you?” Liv challenged with a grin, even though she felt the same way. It was nice spending time alone with her while the Doctor was off shadowing their suspect waiting for something untoward to happen.

“Us doing something together, having adventures, I missed it when we were stuck in London,” the linguist explained with softness in her eyes that made the med-tech’s heart beat faster.

“Me too,” she replied honestly. “It really is nice…”

“As much as I like libraries… it’s just a bonus,” the linguist smiled. “It’s the company that makes it.”

“Don’t think you can charm me now, Miss Know-It-All,” the med-tech scolded her with a grin. There was something to be said for a friendship just as theirs: No matter where they were, what they were doing, they always made the most of it and had fun. Long ago, Helen had brought light back into Liv’s life and now, she couldn’t imagine that life without her. Hopefully she never would have to.

“I don’t know everything, you just happen to have picked on a subject I’m very familiar with,” the linguist defended herself with a chuckle and of course, Liv was keen to test her.

“Alright,” she hummed, running down the index of the book that offered a quick overview over the periods in the in monarch’s life. “Wife number… five?”

“Catherine Howard who was much, much younger than him…” Helen answered, turning her attention back to the book she had been searching for clues. “Terrible really, she just sort of fell into it… and got beheaded for her troubles for infidelity… which, I mean, you can hardly blame her for, given everything,” she commented, turning the page.

“Jeez okay,” Liv grimaced in horror. She hadn’t expected much from a man who had been married six times, but that was pushing things. Intrigued anyhow, she continued skimming the introduction, stumbling over more disturbing details. “Oh, he beheaded another one?”

“Anne Bolyn, yeah. Jane Seymour died in childbirth…” Helen counted on her fingers as she scribbled something down. “Catherine of Aragon and Anna of Cleves he merely divorced, lucky them. And Catherine Parr actually outlived him,” she concluded.

“Did he have a thing for the name Catherine by any chance?” Liv joked and the linguist chuckled.

“A lot of people were called Catherine in those days. Besides, we can’t all have exotic names such as yourself,” she looked up with a smirk.

“Now you’re just taking the mick,” Liv laughed and her friend shrugged, looking beautifully carefree and happy.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted and the expression of contentment on her face made the med-tech happy beyond words. Helen deserved to be happy. That’s all she wanted for her. And if she could factor into it in some small way, that would be all the better.

“Can I help at all?” Liv asked. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be very much use, she at least wanted to have offered.

“You can continue being a source of entertainment as usual,” Helen grinned and the med-tech feigned hurt.

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel valued…” She huffed. “Wonder why you wanted me to come along.”

“I do value you,” Helen’s response came quickly and surprisingly sober. Liv glanced over to her, surprised, and found her friend looking worried, almost sad. “A lot,” she added and the med-tech’s heart felt full and whole.

“I know you do, I was only joking,” she replied softly which saw her best friend flushing with embarrassment at the miscommunication.

“Right of course, sorry… trying to do two things at once,” she gestured at the books in front of her.

“I’d better shut up, hadn’t I?” Liv chuckled apologetically. “Leave you to be super clever and knowledgeable over there. Maybe I can go find the kids section.”

”Now you’re just being silly,” the linguist laughed, shaking her head to herself.

“Of course I am. All the better if it makes you smile,” the med-tech answered and meant it. She returned the history book to the shelf, feeling an odd peng of wistfulness as she observed: “Seriously though, six wives? I’d be happy with just the one.” On particular one that was.

“Oh really?” Helen looked up and Liv wasn’t sure how to interpret the expression on her face. She appeared curious and perhaps a little hopeful? Though that was likely just Liv’s wishful thinking.

“And I’d treat her better than that for sure!” She scoffed, trying to cover the faint blush that she felt flare up in her cheeks.

“Well, that’s not great feat,” the linguist scoffed and Liv took it as a challenge. If Helen were her wife, there would be no bounds to the things she would do for her. She already hung on her every word and worshipped the ground she walked on but if she had her to have and to hold?

“I would look after her. Protect her. Appreciate her,” she told her firmly, fixing her with an intent gaze. Not to convey that these were the things she intended to do for her, but perhaps she would realise that she might not be such a bad choice. Maybe it would spark something… “Comfort her when she’s upset and share her joy when she’s happy. I would be steadfast and dependable and not go looking elsewhere as some tosser might,” she cast a glance at the offending book, then focused on her friend again and her expression softened. “I’d be thanking my lucky stars and just be grateful to have her in my life.” And she was. She was ever so grateful for every moment she got to spend with her best friend.

“That’s because you are a decent human being,” the linguist hummed and Liv sighed:

“Wow, thanks for the fulsome praise…” She hadn’t expected her to throw herself at her, but a little bit more appreciation wouldn’t have gone amiss. She wasn’t sure if Helen had realised as much from her expression, but she regarded her with an affectionate smile and continued:

“If I explained in full what makes you such a wonderful person and my very best friend we would be here all day, and you wouldn’t fit back through that door by the end of it,” she grinned and Liv found herself laughing.

“Yeah, you’re pretty awesome too,” she gave back in amusement as she didn’t trust herself to name all the things she loved about her. They would also be there all day and by the end of it, she would surely have laid her heart bare entirely. There was, however, one thing she was curious of: “So what would you be looking for in a spouse?”

“Me?” Helen appeared entirely taken by surprise and her cheeks flushed. “Oh I don’t know.” She attempted to put her off but Liv couldn’t let her. If she knew what her friend was looking for in a partner, perhaps she could try to measure up in some way. There was, of course, the issue of her gender… Her friend had never voiced a preference one way or another, but until she had heard a ‘no’, she would hold on to hope. Given the time she had grown up in, she wasn’t optimistic, but then, when Liv had briefly dated Tania in London, she had never made an objection as she might have done. She also hadn’t objected to her dating someone else where she had hoped for jealousy… That’s why she had done it after all… But her best friend remained an enigma in that regard. She put a firm stop to the tail-spin her mind was going into and focused on Helen instead with a playful smile to cover her nerves:

“Sure you do. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. I mean I know you’re not uh- 'big' on relationships but…” She found herself stuttering and cut to the chase: “Hypothetically. Humour me?”

Helen sat in silence for a moment, considering her response and Liv could hear her heart beat in her ears. Was this dangerous territory? Was she setting herself up for heartbreak? Was she about to have the last drags of hope dashed that she had for a romantic relationship with her best friend?

She almost gave in and said she needn’t answer when the linguist finally spoke up

“Well, kind hopefully. And intelligent,” she considered and dropped her eyes to her lap where she smoothed out the fabric of her skirt. There was a hue of pink to her cheeks and Liv felt bad. She had likely made her uncomfortable as she didn’t seem able to look at her, but she did continue: “Determined and committed… and dependable, of course.”

“Of course,” the med-tech agreed, hoping vainly that her friend might view her as those things. She had never let her down before and she hopefully never would.

“Someone you could see yourself not only doing romantic things with, but hard things too, someone you know you can rely on when things get tough. Someone you work well with...” the linguist carried on and Liv chuckled:

“You make it sound so practical.” It made sense as her friend had never shown much interest in romance. It saddened Liv, as she would have liked to woo her with candle light dinner, but everyone was different in that regard. What mattered was that Helen was comfortable.

“Well, it is…” Helen observed, looking up at last. “If you commit yourself to spending your whole life with someone… you have to know they’re going to pull their weight, that those times you can’t be strong they’re there to pick you up and-” Her voice failed for a moment and Liv promised herself, even if there was never anything romantic between them, she would always be the person to catch Helen if she fell. She would share her life with her in whichever capacity she allowed.

“Helen-” she started, intent on ensuring her just that but the blonde held up her hand to stop her. She wasn’t done yet.

“They’d have to be fun too, so you can enjoy your time spent together and don’t tire of each other. And they’d have to be understanding…” Her expression turned to something regretful as she dropped her gaze once more. “I’m not great at intimacy and letting people in, but I could learn, and they’d have to be patient but I could…” she mumbled awkwardly. “They don’t have to be perfect, no-one is and I’m certainly not… but just so long as we’re comfortable with each other and our imperfections… that’s the main thing.” She looked up and Liv found herself nodding, captivated by her words. She couldn’t remember her friend ever having been this open with her about matters of the heart. It felt terribly intimate and left her all the more nervous.

“Yeah, it is…” she said softly, as she couldn’t agree more. It seemed as though they were wonderfully aligned in so many ways and it made her yearn to cross the distance between them and pour promises into kisses.

“And they would have to be my friend,” Helen carried on, her voice growing shaky and Liv couldn’t figure out why. Was she nervous too? Was this that difficult for her to talk about? Or was it perhaps, the mention of friendship that had gotten to them both? “Romance, intimacy… those things are important, of course, and I will- I would - make an effort but… if I’m going to share my life with anyone, it’ll have to be with someone who is my friend first.”

Liv swallowed hard.

“I’m sure you could find a guy like that,” she offered with all the encouragement she could muster, even if it was incredibly hard to bring those words across her lips. She didn’t want her to find someone else. She wanted her to herself. But perhaps, like this, she could find out if she stood any chance at all.

“A girl,” Helen interjected softly and the med-tech’s eyes shot up.

“Sorry?” She stuttered, unsure if she had heard her right.

“Not a guy… not a girl either, I’m too old for that: a woman,” the linguist carried on in an awkward mumble as she wrung her hands together anxiously. “Preferably not too different in age.”

And that was when her words sunk in and a world of possibilities opened up to Liv. Surely, she hadn’t said all those things without intention behind them, had she?

“Oh…” She was stunned, lacking words, but her heart jumped into a gallop, thundering away.

“Who knows, maybe… one day things will work out like that. If I could learn to be a bit more upfront and confident about the things I want…” Helen mumbled shakily but the way she fixed Liv with her gaze was anything but unsure. It was pleading. “Maybe I just need a confident partner to help with that…”

“Helen, you can ask for anything you want,” Liv breathed in disbelief and meant it. She would lay the world at her feet if she could but since she only had herself to give, she moved closer, carefully, as though not to scare her off.

“How can I when I’m not sure it would be welcome and-” Helen whispered, insecurely, and the hopeful look in her eyes was all the encouragement the med-tech needed. She rushed the rest of the way and grasped her friend’s face as she sat at the desk, slightly hunched in worry. She would ease all those worries and did so with a brush of her lips. She tilted her head up, surprise flashing across Helen’s face, and she covered her lips with her own, leaving no doubt as to her intentions. And Helen, slowly and tenderly, kissed her back.

There was a moment of silence, even once they’d parted for air, and Liv pressed her forehead against her friend’s, a smile of relief drawing to her lips that tingled with the wonderful sensation of the kiss.

“Please don’t break my heart, Liv…” Helen mumbled softly as she reached up and brushed a strand of hair from the brunette’s eyes. “You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you as that.”

Liv could and should have made assurances that that would never happen. She wouldn’t survive it if it did, but there was something else, far more pressing, she had to say:

“Please marry me,” she requested gently and as her friend’s eyes widened in shock she sought to explain: “Not now, not tomorrow but someday, once we’ve worked our way through the romance and the intimacy, which I suspect it going to be a lot of fun.” She gave her a hopeful smile.

“Y-You’re already sure you’d-” Helen stuttered, overwhelmed and the med-tech grinned:

“I won’t need six tries to get it right,” she told her, brushing her thumbs across her soft cheeks. “I just need you.”

And they met in another tender kiss, full of promise and hope for the future.

#doctor who #fanfiction #liv chenka #helen sinclair #femslash #big finish #liv x helen #fluff #playlist shuffle

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