#could not make myself do shadows because what the fuck are light sources even..

[tears-of-boredom]

day 3: unnecessarily complex fit

ii gotta be honest, they were originally gonna have two feet but then i couldn't figure out the perspective of their right one so i decided to just not draw it

#im aware that its the 13th but i wanted to draw this prompt.. and im like real happy with how this turned out.. #could not make myself do shadows because what the fuck are light sources even.. #and and i made a silly brush specifically just to use for the texture in this because i thought it would be funny.. #yeah and um dont ask the logic behind the color scheme.. i honestly dont think about that shit ever #i just pick colors and go with the flow. you will NOT catch me practicing color theory.. #and um yeah.. #oh once again i made the smallest things too detailed. so they stand out much more than they're supposed to.. #the nose piercing i was able to dial back. but the choker just is like that. and it stands out way too much.. #also really appriciate that the shorts look alright because i had no fucking clue what was going on there.. #i put off figuring them out for so long that they only made sense once i put the texture on them. which was like one of the last things.. #art #my art #cringetober 2023 #um #digital art #oh and the background was a total accident.. i had filled the characters surroundings with white to make sure none of my notes and shit wer #visible. and id forgotten about it.. so then when i changed the background color. it basically looked like that already. #i just tweaked it a bit.. #tbh im quite glad it happened so because ii struggle with balancing the background between too distracting and a void.. #the colors are so fucked for everyone else probably because ive fucked with my monitors gamma levels a lot #basically overall saturation is supposed to be higher. and mainly the dark green is supposed to be a bit more blue-ish..

[hihomeghere]

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine. 

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day. 

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at. 

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your  bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek. 

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face. 

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body. 

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt. 

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips. 

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it. 

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him. 

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day. 

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five x reader #number five #tua x reader #hihomeghere

[imjustemo4genoyall]

@obsessiveshayme and I have been screaming this from the rooftops for Y E A R S now:

EVGENI VLADIMIROVICH MALKIN IS THE MOST DISRESPECTED PLAYER IN THE ENTIRE LEAGUE!!!!!

Everybody's so happy, ecstatic, that a deal was finally reached between Geno and Pens management and I... don't get it? The man was jerked around for months and everybody's acting like everything's peaches now? The very public disrespect of a generational talent just... suddenly means nothing? I completely understand wanting to see only the good in things, y'know? Like, I get that. Sports for most people, myself included, is supposed to be an escape from the bad in things. A source of light in the dark. But I feel like right now really isn't the time for that? Geno's whole career has been riddled with disrespect from all angles. Living in Sid's shadow automatically meant that nothing he could do would ever compare, regardless of how talented and skilled he is himself. The Pens record of 'Longest Active Playoff Appearance Streak' literally started the year Geno did, not Sid, and yet when it's discussed, usually the only praise given is to Sid. Sometimes both. But never just Geno himself. That's literally HIS accomplishment and no one ever acknowledges that. Mind you, this is in no way me saying that Sid is a non-factor in this streak. Of course he deserves shared custody of the praise for the streak in the general sense. But they do tend to credit this accomplishment soley to Sid and that's not fair because as far as the actual length of the streak is concerned, Geno is the one that has had this streak going his whole NHL career. Between things like that, the NHL Top 100 snub, the media and 'fans' constant disapproval, alllllllll of that has led up to this moment. It's what made Hextall and co. feel so comfortable dicking Geno around in the first place.

Until Sid stepped in, of course. Much like he did when GMJR was letting the trade rumors fly in regards to Geno and very much making it seem like he was more than willing to trade Geno for a bag of pucks. I can't remember if it was the '18-'19 or '19-'20 season (I'm leaning more towards the former because that was the season he was -25) but at 72 and 74 points respectively, neither season was even CLOSE to being his worst year. Y'all can argue the +/- stat amongst yourselves 'cause I will stand ten toes down on this all day, it was NOT his worst year. And everybody from GMJR to the media to the fans made it seem like he wasn't fit to even drive the zamboni. So much so to the point that Geno believed it. After everything was said and done he literally said he played terrible. Sid stepped in, said "It's me AND Geno." And that was that. No more trade rumors. The only difference between this time and last time is that Geno knew his worth this time around and finally had EFUCKINGNOUGH of the disrespect. Geno had every intention of walking and I don't blame him, not one single bit. Had they actually offered him the 4 years he wanted, it never would've have gotten this far. Because of course he wants to retire as a Penguin. But at the cost of his fucking dignity? I think the fuck not. All he was asking for was a fraction, a single fucking sliver of respect. But I guess, as per usual, if you're Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin that's simply asking for too fucking much.

And now everybody's literally rejoicing the fact that Sid is more respected than Geno when it comes to Geno's own career 🙃 Seriously, I'm all for optimism and positivity and all that jazz but Hextall and co. very blatantly had no intention of re-signing Geno. And we're... celebrating?

These are the stats of the man they weren't willing give 4 fucking years to???

And Sid had to intervene AGAIN before they'd even think about showing him a single modicum of respect???

AND WE'RE FUCKING CELEBRATING?!?!?!!!!

I... Look. I'm truly not telling anybody that they can't be happy about 4 more years of Pittsburgh Penguin Evgeni Malkin. We should absolutely all be happy about that. It's the jokes about how Sid had to step in to get it done. It's the celebrating the very fact that Sid had to swoop in and save the day. It's the using the disrespect from management towards Geno as the butt of the joke. Of course nobody's actually saying the complete disregard of a generational talent is funny. But underneath it all, that IS the unspoken butt of all the Savior Sid jokes. Nobody's talking about the MONTHS of bullshit Geno had to put up with to get here. This is by no means any sort of call out post or anything like that. If you made a post in celebration of SuperSid (affectionate but also definitely a little bit derogatory) I'm not trying to call you out and say you're wrong for that or that it's in any way malicious towards Geno. And please, don't ever stop trying to find the humor in things, truly. I'm really not trying to take away your joy. But basically, I'm just saying can we at least acknowledge that Geno deserved better throughout all this before we praise Sid? That Geno rightfully deserved a decent contract on his own merit and admit that it's pretty fucked up that Sid had to intervene at all in order for Geno to get anything? Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin was actually going to walk because he got so tired of being treated like this, can we at least take a moment to praise HIM for finally standing up for himself after all these years?

#pittsburgh penguins #evgeni malkin #look. ignore this 'cause i truly am just emo4geno #maybe it's just jealousy that other people can so easily find the humor in all this #maybe i'm projecting and my feelings have more to do with my personal life than anything else #anyway. it is what it is and i'm still gonna post it 'cause i can't have this festering in my chest anymore #this wasn't even the original post. this was a whole different thing because up until last night Geno firmly had both feet out the door #up until last night this was a rage post of epic proportions #i didn't even sleep last night because i was up re-re-doing this post that i technically started monday night #when it was a whole different thing #anyway. if you're feeling called out after reading this. don't. 'cause that's not what this is about #i'm finally going to sleep before i let myself dig any deeper into this pit of just really shitty feelings i created for myself #tomorrow will be better. it always is

[bioware-bard]

After Horizon: a scene idea gone rogue

I have this whole re-telling of the Mass Effect games in my mind, but it's not completely fleshed out yet and I find that extremely annoying. I just want to write the story, dammit! But, yeah - if you've ever written anything, you know that doesn't work. One of the better tips for writing that I've come across lately and actually helps me: write what you want in the moment. So no forcing myself to start from the beginning, but write those scenes that are nagging at me. Thus far - it's working. Though sometimes, like now, it takes me somewhere I didn't expect to go.

“John?”

Kara stepped into his quarters, the aquarium being the only source of illumination in the room. Her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and she spotted a pair of socked feet dangling over the edge of the couch. Stepping closer, she could see a bit more clearly the bottle of whiskey on the table and the accompanying glass, filled halfway. 

She made her way around the table, grabbed a new glass off the shelf and sat down to pour herself some. John lay sprawled on the couch, face down, and uttered a muffled, "What?" Upon hearing the clink of the glass, John lifted his head up off the couch and groaned. “What?” he repeated, his voice sounding rougher than normal. 

Raising the glass to her lips, she told him, “I didn’t want you to drink alone.”

He laughed softly, bitterly, and rolled onto his back. Covering his eyes with his left arm, he let the other one dangle loosely to the ground. “There’s not much left.” 

“You’re done, anyway. It’s enough for me.” 

The light from the aquarium illuminated him just enough for her to see that he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his under armour. His boots lay discarded on the floor and it looked like he had tried to get out of the tight material, but had at some point given up and grabbed a bottle. They were more alike than either of them wanted to admit, both of them trying so very damn hard to ignore their feelings.

She’d pushed all of her emotions down: the initial blossoming warmth of hope that was quickly doused by the cold waters of rejection and which transformed into a fiery anger on the shuttle ride off that forsaken colony and back to the Normandy. She couldn’t remember what she’d done upon their return, but images of taking off her armour and then making her way to the crew deck and mechanically taking a shower flashed in her mind. She couldn’t remember when she’d made her way up here to John's quarters, though. 

“I fucking hate this,” she murmured before tilting her head back and taking a big gulp of the whiskey. It burned in her mouth and down her throat and her face scrunched up from the taste, but in time it would dull her even more than she herself could accomplish. 

John seemed to grunt in agreement, but that was all the acknowledgment he gave that he heard her. 

She took a second big gulp of the drink, emptying the glass and set it down on the table with a bang. “You want me to go?”

He didn’t reply and she was almost ready to just get up and leave him be when he abruptly sat up. “What I want,” he said as he brought his knees up and rested his arms on them, “is to erase the past two years and do it all over again.”

“What would you change?”

“Try and stay dead, maybe.”

Kara let out a long breath of air, the shock of his words clearing away a bit of the fog that enveloped her. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Come on, Kara. I died, or something very near to it. They worked on bringing me back for two years.” He turned his head to look at her, the shadows cast on his face only enhancing the haunted look in his eyes. “I’m not stupid. I shouldn’t be here right now, but I am. And I’m here because of Cerberus. I don’t owe them one goddamn thing because I didn’t ask for this, but I’m still unable to leave and try to pick up the pieces of my old life. How do you feel right now, Kara? Are you happy?” He moved, feet landing on the floor with a thud, and he leaned toward her. She couldn’t see his eyes anymore. “Are you happy you lost two years of your life to a coma?” He leaned even closer and added, voice just above a whisper, “That I suspect they were keeping you in?”

“Fuck you, John.”

A bitter laugh erupted from him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

...

to be continued?

#my writing #mass effect 2 #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect fanfic #fanfiction #unedited #maybe a drabble maybe something more who knows #mass effect oc #commander john shepard #commander shepard

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela​

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela​ for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. 

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. 

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. 

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. 

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. 

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. 

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

[stardustincarnate]

SAY YES TO HEAVEN // L Lawliet x Reader

word count : 2989 genre : fluff <333 song inspiration here!

The day marked as a cloudy Wednesday in England. The air was mildly harsh and cold, the wind blowing my bangs back as I looked up to the sky with a smile on my face. My heart throbbed in a feeling I couldn't explain. It was more than just euphoria. I was feeling nervous, excited, happy— all the emotions were mixing inside me, but I was mostly happy, and I became overwhelmed that I didn't notice I dropped a single tear.

"Why are you crying [Y/N]? Don't!!"

"I suppose it's normal for someone to cry before getting married. Am I right [Y/N]?" Mello asked as he held my other arm. I softly nodded and chuckled before looking at the time. I soon told the three of them that we should be heading to the said location already. I certainly didn't want to be late for my own wedding, even if it's just a minute.

Matt and Mello were bickering at each other as they held either sides of my arm. Near was walking in front of me, silent as usual. I only smiled while observing them. I found it cute that I was being accompanied by these little successors who kept on joking and making me smile along the way. As we left Wammy's House, we took a hidden route that would lead us to an English garden that is also owned by Mr. Wammy.

By the time we've reached the garden, I told them to halt for a moment as I wanted to fix the creases on my dress first. I wore a simple yet elegant looking one. And I also needed to make sure I still looked nice.. at least for L's eyes.

"Guys, I need a mirror."

The three of them looked at each other before shrugging and looking at me. "None of us have one."

I puffed my cheeks, frantically fixing every imperfections I could see in myself. I gently touched my hair just to make sure that it was still styled and untangled. I lost count of how many times I asked them about how I looked— I couldn't help it.

"You look magnificent [Y/N]. Don't worry."

"Wow.. he actually talks." Matt playfully whispered to my ear. I lightly elbowed him before thanking Near who was slightly smiling at me. We had stayed on the entrance for a moment until we heard something coming from the structure on the back of the garden. It was faint, but I knew it was the sound of the piano.

My feet decided before my brain and I found myself already walking ahead of them towards the structure. The heavenly tune which was growing more and more loud had already ascended my soul to the heavens. It felt as if I was in paradise, add the scenery I was currently stepping foot on for more visuals. The flowers swayed to the rhythm of the wind, with few petals lying on the ground and leaves raining down on me.

My heart throbbed in euphoria, causing a smile to form on my lips the moment I stepped inside the opened vintage structure. The place almost resembled a Cathedral with it being so huge on the inside, the only source of light was the pale rays of the sun that barely made it through the heavy clouds above. Even the ventilation was natural as we were relying on the frigid wind that seeped through openings high up above and on the sides, including the opening that I just entered on. Shadows were playing on the walls and some amount of dusts were on every corner. And despite it being an opened construction, the melody of the piano still somehow managed to echo, giving it a rich surround sound.

My three companions soon catched up to me, walking behind me, holding me a little as I wandered deeper until the image of the man who was playing the piano became clearer to my vision. His back was facing us as he let his slender fingers continue creating the heavenly tune that was the only thing we could hear. He was wearing a suit, I could tell, and even if I had only seen the back I knew damn well that he looked good in it.

But to be honest, in my eyes, he'd certainly look good with anything.

Even without clothes—

Shush! What was I thinking? That would have to wait...

Say yes to heaven...

I stepped closer and closer, and then I realized that my little companions were no longer accompanying me at al—- but instead, they had ran up to L, placing a crown of flowers with different hues which I had no idea where it came from above his head. Mello held another flower crown, and the three hastily ran back to me.

Say yes to me...

I kneeled down to match their heights, with Mello soon placing the flower crown above my head. I smiled and blushed, murmuring a thank you.

I've got my eye on you...

L gave me a brief glance, a soft smile on his face. My heart thumped loudly as I got closer to the center. And there I was, standing beside the grand piano he was using as the music ended.

I've got my eye on you...

He closed his eyes as if savoring the moment of playing the last notes. Dumbfounded, I stared at his beauty, all the overwhelming emotions mixing inside me, causing me to slightly tremble.

L stood up from his seat, his hunched figure walking closer to me until we were facing each other. He looked down to me with the softest gaze, and even though his smile was only small, I could tell he was just as happy as I was. I covered my mouth, smiling, with tears also threatening to fall from the corners of my eyes.

Mr. Wammy stepped and halted in front of us. I beamed as I looked at him, and then back to L. His eyes gleamed even under the dull light, filled with glee that I almost cried at the spot.

Well, every bride really does cry on her wedding day..

All that small and huge bumps in the journey of our relationship is what made us what we are right now. It helped us grow stronger, made us realize that there's nothing like a perfect relationship, but there is a beautiful one. The scars in our relationship is what made it even more beautiful. Our wedding felt like some sort of achievement— not only because I could confirm I was the luckiest woman in the world for being the world's greatest detective's lover, but also because that day was our trophy. After all the hardships we went through, we still ended up there— we still won.

And isn't it beautiful to think that in the end, even after all the difficulties we've encountered that led us to almost giving up, we still win?

We're still winning.

And I was glad that I never gave up on him, because God knows how much I love him, even though sometimes he's unbothered, offensive, and seemed not to give a fuck about me at all.

"Don't cry. You'll ruin your make-up." L whispered. I chuckled, about to rub my eyes, but I realized that I was wearing mascara so I only looked up and smiled.

"I'm just happy. I mean.. y-you're finally going to be my husband. Oh my God, look! I can't even say it without smiling like an idiot."

"My idiot, that is." L put his hands on my shoulders and glanced at Mr. Wammy. "Let's get going with the ceremony already, then. I can't wait for this girl to be my wife already."

I looked down and smiled so wide my face could've had deformed. I then looked at him as Mr. Wammy formally started the short ceremony. The little successors' gazes were all on us, and I heard them whispering stuffs that only made me grin.

To be honest, I didn't even prepare any vows. I just needed to say what I really felt like saying at the time. Even though not always, the truth will turn out to be more beautiful— no sugarcoating or anything, but just the plain truth.

"Promise is overrated. We can't always keep our promises, can we? The word try is more appropriate, I suppose. Perhaps I might not be able to keep my word for eternity, and it's not that I intend to break that, but I will try to keep it from breaking. I know the road ahead of us won't always be full of glee because that's just how life works, but I'm willing to go through it all as long as you're with me. I know we can overcome anything and still win in the end, and even after the end. I.. I sincerely love you, not only as your soon-to-be-wife, but as your closest friend and your family."

L's smile surprisingly grew wider. And of course, he wasn't gonna let himself get beaten by me. He also didn't prepare any vows as I could tell.

"You are right. We made it this far despite of how many times we had argued, even over the pettiest things. There will be more, I assure, but I can endure your whining and complaining. In fact, I'm already prone to it."

I laughed.

"I hope to make it with you until the end. Come what may, but I won't leave you. I've surprisingly become highly attached to you, that I want you to be with me until I had enough of your presence. I adore you a lot, [Y/N]."

He took my hand and slipped a ring on my finger. I did the same to him, still trembling, my vision already obscured. I must've had looked like a mess by the time because I couldn't stop crying.

He kissed the back of my hand, staring at me.

"Very well. You are now pronounced man and wife. You two may kiss."

L unexpectedly wrapped his arms around my waist, whispering, "If I do it wrong, tell me. I'll do it again until it feels right."

I merely nodded. I didn't even know what felt right or wrong— I never kissed anyone in the lips for my entire life. But I had always wondered how his lips would feel. His lips that probably tasted like strawberries and coffee—

The feeling I imagined became tangible as he pressed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arm around his neck, not knowing whether I should kiss back or not. I was kinda shy— but I eventually kissed him back.

We pulled away, and after some time of silence and just staring at each other, I heard Matt screaming in glee.

"YESSS! The list of successors are going to increase!"

"What do you mean—"

"Hey!" I blushed and shook my head before looking at L. "Well.. we're not planning that yet, aren't we?"

"Now that you mention, we haven't really seriously talked about it yet, have we? Anytime is fine with me. And when you're ready, of course."

"I'm ready, but at the same time I'm not. Weird, right?" I chuckled. "But thinking about mini-Ls running around and.. Oh!" I squealed, bashfully looking away.

"My [Y/N] seems more shy today. Although, I do like the sound of that. But not just mini-mes, little versions of you too. Let's see.." He mumbled, thinking about something. "Does five children sound good to you?"

"Five..?!"

"They said the more the merrier."

"Sounds fine to me.. Good, actually.. Hehe.."

My face felt so hot. Because for the love of law, I couldn't stop thinking about the process of making children!

Snap out of it, [Y/N]!

Ugh, but I didn't.

"Another five successors? Wow. This is gonna be challenging." Mello grinned.

"Actually, I don't intend to make our children as my successors. I would like them to be raised normally. Wouldn't you agree with me, [Y/N]?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Good. But anyway, we'll talk more about it later. I do remember that we're still going to do some things, right Watari?"

"Yes. We should head out now." The old man replied. We exited the structure and onto the garden where we took a lot of photos. Most of them included the successors just trolling around and being mischievous to L and I. There were some romantic photos though, where you can find L doing all the things I never thought he'd do. It was heartwarming that my cheeks hurt so bad after all that smiling. It felt like they were almost being torned. But it was such an amazing day!

The photoshoot ended before five, and we decided that it was way too early for us to head back. And I guess you could call it L's day-off that day.

We couldn't really watch a proper sunset since the sky was shrouded with clouds. But it's alright, the weather was fine and so was the scenery. It even felt better because my loved ones were there.

L and I were sitting on a bench, his arm put over my shoulder. We were watching his successors have fun in the garden. I smiled at the thought of our future children doing the same thing.

Soon.

It began to grow dark. L stood up, motioning me to do the same thing. I did what I was told and the next thing I knew was that I was being carried in bridal style. That was... unexpected. I hooked my arms around his neck, and he leaned his face closer to mine until our lips were pressed.

I closed my eyes as I squirmed a little. As I kissed him back, he left me shocked when he started nibbling my lower lip, gentle at first, but it soon turned rough, his lips moving in a way that indicated he needed more, if possible.

I had seen couples making out both in real life and movies, so I only copied them and did what I thought was good, opening my mouth just a little, and L dominantly invaded it with his tongue. I shut my eyes tighter and gripped his collar as he moved his tongue against mine, back and forth and in circular motions.

He slowly put my legs down, making me stand up without even breaking the kiss. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands soon travelling up to caress my right cheek. My legs felt like jelly and I moaned in the kiss. After that, we pulled away to catch out breaths.

I looked at him, our bodies pressed against each other's. His lips looked swollen from the kiss— and there was this enigmatic, predator-like look in his eyes.

It was ghost-quiet. And.. I didn't moan that loud, did I?

And, where in the world did L learn how to kiss like that?

He was setting me in the mood. I didn't like it. Not when we were still at the garden.. I thought it had to wait until we were completely alone! Why did he do it there?!

"L, is this really you? I mean.. how did you learn to do that? I thought you were inexperienced when it comes to kissing. That was honestly, err, intense."

"To tell the truth I've been watching people do that. I suppose I learned by watching."

I flushed and cleared my throat. "Well.. You are the world's greatest detective after all. There's not a thing that you can't learn."

"You are right." He snickered. "And given my title and judging from your actions, you are horny by now, aren't you?"

"WHAT?! N-No way!"

"No need to deny it. After all, I am too."

Before I could even reply, he snatched my moment. "I could take you here right now. If you don't mind?"

"L— what are you talking about? I do mind! We're in public, for heaven's sake. You should at least control your hormones.. Hmp."

"Sorry. I just got in the mood."

"Yes, and you infected me with that mood. Now we're both in the mood. It's your fault."

I looked to the side and saw the successors looking at the both of us in utter silence. And they weren't blinking too.

"Oh! Hi— how long have you all been standing there...?"

"Long enough to see you two doing that adult stuff. Watari told us to call you since it's getting dark and we should head back.. But—"

"But you two were busy.. so we just waited."

I mentally facepalmed. I elbowed L in the stomach with a scowl.

"So, you saw the whole thing?"

"Yes. Even though I wasn't completely focusing on it, unlike these two." Near replied.

"Oh dear. This is your fault, L."

"You said that for the second time already. I know. I'm only sorry that you have to see a sight. Although, why did you continue watching it?"

"It's his fault!" Mello pointed to Matt, who looked as if he was betrayed.

"Psh! I was curious. I needed to get some answers. Why do couples moan when they kiss? It's a bit annoying, especially when they start to look like they're being possessed by the eye-rolling thing. Is it really that good when you taste another person's saliva? What benefit will it do you?"

"I suggest you not think too much about it." L replied.

"Totally right... Err, we should be going home now! Come on, let's go."

"Alright. I can't wait to get home anyways." He gave me a knowing look, licking his lips. I blushed and hit his arm. This pervert!

The three walked ahead of us in awkward silence. L and I followed, our arms hooked together, ready to go home as a newly wedded couple.

#l lawliet #Death Note #death note L #death note x reader #l lawliet x reader #l x reader #mello death note #matt death note #near death note #death note imagines #l x you #death note fluff #l lawliet imagine #character x you

[ukai-simp-services]

just tonight

oikawa tōru x fem!reader warnings: smoking weed, cursing, degrading/humiliating, nsfw and smut ofc, corruption kink, slight biblical references, y/n is kinda bitchy, voyeurism, temp/heat play, high during intercourse, choking, dumbdification. a/n: i literally don’t even like smoking or care for it at all BUT THIS FUCKING IDEA CAME TO MY HEAD AND OOOHH BOY. so here’s an alternate universe oikawa being a mf bad boy stoner with piercings and tattoos, and lowkey an asshole.

  fake friends, fake fucking friends, you thought to yourself. you were standing outside of the loud - practically vibrating - club. the one that your friends invited you to; yet here you were, alone while they were driving away with sloppy looking men that just wanted to hook up with them. 

  bass-boosted music rang through your ears, while the ground you walked on literally shook from the bouncing club. you felt a wave of goosebumps rise on your skin, the dress you were wearing was a little too short and it didn't help that the sleeves were spaghetti straps. it was only the beginning of summer, a late june night with a chilling breeze. not to mention, you were two fucking hours away from home, you had no car and a dead phone. the best you could hope for was that someone was kind enough to call a cab for you, or an uber - but there was no one around, except for the people inside the club that you could no longer enter.

  “someone looks lost~” a low, yet teasing voice came from behind you.

  you whipped your head around; taken aback by the sudden voice, but felt slightly relieved when you were greeted by the presence of a young man.

  “yeah, i guess you could say that...” your voice was timid as you trailed off, still nervous of this unknown man gracing your presence. 

  “’s not safe for a pretty girl like you to be walking around this area with that lost look on your face, you could attract some bad news.” he stepped closer and closer to you, almost hesitantly. 

  “like you?” you cocked an eyebrow back at him, gesturing to the array of large, black tattoos littering his arms.

  he clicked his tongue at you, ”should someone like you really be judging others by their looks?” the stranger got uncomfortably closer and you could see that his eyes resembled a warm brown color and his fluffy hair matched them. his face certainly didn't match the rest of his appearance. 

  “someone like me? i look exactly like what i am, a girl who's stranded with no phone or car and could use a nice person to call her a cab home. get lost, creep.” you practically spat back. 

  you spun on your heel and began walking away, you half expected him to chase after you and snatch you into the darkness of an ally, and half expected him to just give up and walk away. your speed-walking was put to a halt when he did neither of those things, when he started laughing hysterically. you spun around quickly out of curiosity to see him doubled over, crouched down on the ground trying to get a grip on himself. 

  “what's so funny?” you were both pissed and skeeved out, what the hell was this asshole creepy laughing at you for?

  he began wiping the tears from his eyes dramatically, “nothing, sorry. it’s just that girls like you are so stereotypical. always looking down on men like me, always thinking you're better than everyone else. it’s just kinda funny instead of insulting.” 

  you were at a loss for words, did you really come off that bitchy? and didn't you have a right to? he was the one lurking in the shadows.

  “i'd call you a cab, but i left my phone at home. i could go get it and come back?”

  somehow, you weren't convinced he’d let you go that easy. something about his tone when he first approached you, was just too teasing and insinuating. 

  “no thanks, i can find someone else to call one for me.” you nervously tugged at the chain on your purse, you knew that was a damn lie. the streets were empty, and this man was your only hope.

  he smirked, a knowing look planted on his face. he wouldn't push, but he knew you'd have to resort to his help in the end. 

  “suit your self.” he treaded away slowly, eagerly expecting your plea to come. 

  you furrowed your eyebrows slightly, he wasn't going to keep pushing you? was he not just saying how unsafe the streets were for a young girl like you?

  “actually- wait.” you stammered hesitantly, embarrassed that you needed his attention again. 

  he turned around swiftly, a small smirk gracing his lips - smugly trying to hold back a grin. 

  “i'm sorry, could you please call me a taxi?” you failed to notice his sly expression.

  “sure thing, but will you be safe here on your own while i get my phone?” he feigned the worry in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes. 

  you bit your lip, hesitant to pick your next words.

  “how long would you be?”

  “should be a 10 minute walk there, another 10 minutes back.”

  “so, 20 minutes?”

  “yes, around 20.” the mysterious man toyed with something between his long, slender fingers, barely giving you a glance. 

  “oh...” you looked around awkwardly, you thought 20 minutes might be too long. who knows what kind of person would approach you, plus it felt like the breeze against your so very exposed legs was getting colder by the minute.

  he looked up to catch your nervous gaze.

  “of course, you could join me on the walk, wait outside my house when we get there.” he pursed his lips, making it look like he had just thought up the idea with no further intentions. 

  no, no fucking way you would go with him.

  but in his gaze, you caught something. a glint in his eyes; trust, comfort. 

  your better judgement faltered as you lost yourself in the charm he held in his eyes, the start to many more risks you would take that night. 

  despite his eccentric look; piercings littering his ears, leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, obscene tattoos and all black attire - he had a deep warmth in his eyes. and you may have felt so stupid in the moment, but you found yourself trusting that warmth.

  “okay, can't be worse than staying here alone right?”

  he chuckled, “right.”

  but were you actually wrong?

  the walk to his apartment was quiet, mostly because you were nervous he was gonna snap and pull a knife out and murder you in an ally.

  “you know, you don't have to walk 10 feet away from me, right?” the guy looked over his shoulder and squinted his eyes at you. 

  you bit your lip, deciding to stride a little closer to him - making a more comfortable distance.

  “i don't even know your name, mystery man.” 

  he chuckled, stepping to the side a little to give you more room to walk.

  “neither do i, mystery woman.”

  “wouldn't you like to know, i asked first anyway.”

  you were now walking by his side, a little more confident than you were before. your fingers held themselves behind your back, purse still hooked over your shoulder.

  “it’s oikawa, tōru oikawa.” his eyes flickered up to yours, hopeful for you to open up and tell him your name too.

  “told me your full name huh, i guess i should too.” you rocked on your heels nervously. you were still uneasy about telling him your full name for some reason, but when you looked into his orbs of warm chocolate brown, you felt like you could trust this man with your life.

  “l/n y/n.”

  he smirked, looking up ahead at the road again, “pretty name, definitely suits a pretty girl.”

  you rolled your eyes at his sudden flattery, he seemed to do a lot of that - you noticed.

  the two of you continued walking for a few more minutes, casual conversation bouncing off each other. you noticed he began to slow down his faster walking pace when you both reached a tall apartment building.

  “we’re home.” he winked at you.

  “oh shut it, don’t take too long please. it’s so cold...” you hopped from foot to foot and rubbed your exposed biceps with your hands.

  oikawa thought for a moment - running his tongue over his teeth while contemplating how to make what he was about to say not sound creepy.

  “why don’t you come in with me? it’d only take a second and i don’t trust the people around this area to leave you alone out here.”

  you paused for a moment, you were usually very street smart and would know exactly how to avoid this situation. if he were any other guy, you’d just say ‘no thanks, i can handle myself’ and refuse his offer - but his eyes, why were you so allured by his eyes? what was it about him that you trusted? 

  “it’s okay if you’re uncomfortable, i’ll be quick and you can wait out here-“

  “no, wait. i'll come, just...don’t pull anything weird, kay?” you were readjusting your purse on your shoulder as you hesitantly stepped closer to the apartment door.

  “of course, i’d never.” there was a glint of mischief in his eye after the words left his lips, but you didn’t notice it.

  after oikawa let you into his apartment, you were greeted by the strongest smell of weed in your life - and a lot of loud talking and laughter. you were just about ready to turn on your heel and leave.

  “sorry ‘bout that, my friends are really loud.” oikawa apologized and locked the door behind you.

  you waved him off, dismissing his apology. you didn’t care about his loud friends, you were just bothered by the disgusting scent of marijuana that hit your nostrils. you wouldn’t tell him that though, at least not yet.

  you followed oikawa into the living room; also known as the source of where the horrid smell was coming from. the room was dimly lit and felt bigger than it looked. there was an L-shaped brown couch in the center of the room being occupied by 3 men - seemingly the same age as oikawa and yourself.

  “hey guys, this is y/n. she got lost and needs me to call her a ride home. do you guys know where my phone is?” oikawa spoke to the men in front of you, they all seemed to immediately drop their conversation the second oikawa walked in.

  “nah man, i dunno.” a boy with short light brown hair spoke up while twiddling a blunt between his fingers.

  oikawa sighed and ran a hand through his hair, quickly scanning the room for his phone before looking back at you.

  “wait here for a sec while i go look in my room, kay?” he raised an eyebrow at you before hearing your response.

  you would’ve snorted at the tall man with tattoos and ripped jeans using the term “kay”, if it weren’t for the intimating group of men staring you down at the moment.

  “sure.” you forced a nod, signaling oikawa to exit the room.

  you looked around the room awkwardly, hands clasped together against your thighs. you weren’t sure how long he would take, and you certainly weren’t up for small talk with these ‘troublesome’ looking guys.

  “take a seat, we don’t bite.” the man with messy black hair and thick eyebrows chuckled at you.

  yeah right, “that’s ok, i-“

  “i insist.” his voice was deep and his eyes were burning holes into your own. you weren’t sure how someone so high could come off so serious.

  you swallowed down your nerves and took a seat on the far right of all the boys on the couch, plopping down next to one of the quieter men; he had spiky black hair and wore a denim jacket. 

  “so, ‘kawa’s picking up strangers off the street n bringing 'em into our apartment now, eh?” the man next to you spoke up, plucking the blunt from his friends fingers and placing it between his own lips. 

  the light-haired man laughed, following it with a cough from previously inhaling the smoke, “wouldn’t be much of a surprise, knowing him.”

  you wrinkled your nose at their laughter. you tried to be polite, you really did, but you simply didn't belong here; didn't belong in a room with these ‘delinquents’.

  “i am not, ‘from the streets’, for your information. i don't even live around here, i was just clubbing with my friends, but they-” 

  “yeah yeah, we get it. you're a typical stuck-up girl who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” the light-haired boy (it would really help if they told you their names) mocked you in a high-pitched voice.

  “i'm not stuck up, i just-” he kept cutting you off.

  “oh please, the second you walked in here, you were sticking up your nose at us, looking us up and down with a disapproving glare. you're just that kind of girl, face it.” 

  the messy-haired man chuckled lowly at his friend’s joke and added, “just oikawa’s type!”

  “that's enough, you two.” the quieter man next to you spoke up for a second time, giving the other two men a threatening glare. 

  you swallowed awkwardly as the room became quiet, only the soft sounds of sucking in smoke from the blunt being passed around were heard. 

  you were busy absentmindedly picking at the polish on your nails, a nervous habit, when a small orange glow next to your head caught your eye. 

  “you wanna hit?” the guy next to you was holding the blunt out for you to grab, the strong smell getting a little too close to your nostrils. 

  you scrunched your nose at his offer, shaking your head to further decline.

  “no thanks, i don't really do that stuff.”

  the spikey-haired male nodded - accepting your decision and taking an extra hit himself, when you heard a chuckle come from behind him.

  “god, she really is a prude.” the voice of the impudent light-haired man spoke again.

  you were just about ready to bite back a reply, but the man sat in-between the two men with the deeper voice beat you to it. 

  “makki, bet you 10 bucks she was only at that club for a half-hour before she was beggin’ her friends to go. that's probably why they ditched her stuck-up ass.” the boys cackled in unison at their stupid jokes. if they weren't pissing you off so much, you might even had found their cackles funny. 

  “makki, mattsun, shut your mouths.” the man next to you rose his voice slightly. you were thankful that he was sticking up for you, but there was no way you'd let it go without defending yourself.

  “ha, sorry that i actually have my life together and don't need a mind-altering drug to live my every day life. you guys are the pathetic ones, not me.” you laughed bitterly at them. what you were saying was only half true; you didn't have your life together and you couldn't care less if people that weren't you did mind-altering drugs, but you did think they were pathetic. 

  3 pairs of eyes widened in your direction in response your bitchy remark, they knew they had it coming - yet they were still surprised to hear it. 

  “please, humble yourself sweetheart. you aren't any better than us for not doing drugs.” the man with dark hair, presumably mattsun, laughed coldly at you whilst leaning further back into the cushion of the couch. 

  “yeah, you're only missing out.” the man called makki chimed in.

  “missing out? oh please, on what? a fried brain? smelly breath? black lungs? yeah, i think I'm doing just fine.” you leaned back against the couch, content with the newfound confidence you held. you weren't normally this snappy with people you first met, so this was quite a shift in your usual dynamic. 

  this time, all three boys laughed at you, this included the quieter man who's name you still did not know. 

  “oh darling, you're cracking me up. just say that you're a prude and go, you're honestly embarrassing yourself.” makki pushed your argument further. 

  “yeah, you shouldn't knock something before you try it. just because you're a virgin doesn't mean you have to act-” 

  “what makes you think that im a virgin? what does weed have to do with my sex life, like at all?” your voice was getting defensively higher and you were now leaning over the man in between you and makki and mattsun to get your point across. 

  “you're not a virgin because you don't smoke weed, but you don't smoke weed because you're a virgin.” makki put it bluntly, staring straight at you with a completely blank face. the two boys next to him chuckled at his stupidity. you were completely dumbfounded. 

  “you're joking right? this has to be a joke. you can't seriously think that i’m some prude who's never had sex before just because i've never smoked weed before - and never will.” you were crossing your right leg over your left now, lifting your posture significantly to get a better look at the men.

  “actually, sweetheart. that's exactly what we think.” mattsun glanced over at you, half-lidded eyes burning into your own. 

  you felt a shudder run through your body at the nickname, trying your hardest to push down the heat rising to your cheeks and somehow maintain your snarky persona. 

  “i-”

  “found my phone- what is going on here?” oikawa entering the living room interrupted your retaliation, suddenly becoming confused with the obvious tense atmosphere in the room. 

  “tch, your little prude of a friend over here just called us pathetic for smoking weed.” makki rolled his eyes before placing the blunt between his lips, it was now a quarter of the size it was before when you first entered the home. 

  “only because your asshole friends were calling me a prude and a virgin for not smoking.” you snapped back immediately, turning your body to face oikawa to make your point. 

  “asshole friends? that isn't very nice now is it, sweetheart?” mattsun teased you again, using the same nickname that you were shamefully flustered by before. 

  you opened your mouth to argue back, but oikawa interrupted your spiteful words with a long laugh.

  “i knew you were a stereotypical stuck-up girl the second i met you, didn't i y/n? this comes off as no surprise to me.” oikawa’s arms were now crossed and he was eyeing you down from his standing position above you.

  “oooh, her name is y/n. just sounds like a prude’s name.” makki proceeded to torment you. 

  “come on asswipes, be gentlemen.” the quieter man next to you spoke up again for the first time in quite a few minutes. 

  “sorry, iwa-chan, but i’m gonna have to side with makki and mattsun this time. if y/n wants to act like a little prudent brat, then she’ll just have to be treated like one.” oikawa stepped closer to your spot on the couch, a teasing lilt to his voice.

  you were flustered by how fast oikawa’s personality had shifted, he had alluded you to think he was a charming, trustworthy man not even 20 minutes ago. where was that energy now?

  “such a stuck-up brat, probably gonna live to be a perfect little virgin mary, yeah? never gonna compromise her health, never gonna sleep with a man, and never gonna commit a sin, isn't that right?” oikawa now stood directly in front of you, legs brushing against yours with your head at eye level with his crotch. 

  you hesitated for a moment, contemplating if your pride was really worth doing this. 

  of course it was.

  “pass me the fucking blunt.” your head whipped towards makki, holding your hand out towards him, praying to god that he couldn't see how much you were shaking.

  makki widened his reddened eyes at you while trying to figure out if you were being serious or not.

  “are you deaf? let me take a fucking hit.” your eyes were dead and cold, boring into his surprised ones.

  “alright... now that's what i like to see.” makki’s lips curled up into a smirk as he passed you the medium-sized, glowing blunt. 

  everybody’s eyes were on you as your held the object between your thumb and your pointer finger, mimicking the movements you've seen others do so many times before.

  “you sure you can handle the smoke, darling?” oikawa’s voice was anything but caring and sweet, it held a mocking tone laced with faux sympathy. 

  no, you were very sure that you couldn't, but you were too stubborn to go back now. your pride was on the line and you would be damned if you didn't prove yourself to these four men.

  you looked up at oikawa through your thick lashes, placing the blunt between your lips at the slowest, most seductive speed. 

  “i'm a big girl. i think i'll be alright, kay?

  oikawa let a low chuckle out, still staring down at you from his tall position above you with his head slightly tilted to the side. 

  “we’ll see about that.” his voice came out deeper and smoother than it had before.

  you wanted so badly to prove to these assholes that you weren't as prudent as they made you out to be. sure, you were a little pretentious and always stuck your nose up in disapproval when your friends did similar actions that these boys did, but secretly, you always wished you could let yourself loose like everyone else. you were raised to be a perfect, well-behaved girl, so you've always kind of stuck by that title for as long as you knew. just going to clubs, like you did tonight, was totally out of your comfort zone. if tonight was going to be the one night where you let yourself loose, then there was no reason that you couldn't do this, right?

  you seemed to underestimate how many hits it would take for a lightweight like you to get even the slightest bit high, all you wanted was a little buzz - just to get these dickheads off your back. 

  it was only after coughing up an entire lung after your two first hits, that you realized that this might've not been such a good idea.

  you set down the glass of water that iwaizumi - the only nice guy out of the bunch - got you from the tap. you were four hits in and absolutely miserable. your entire chest felt on fire and to make matters worse, you didn't even feel high yet - not like you would know what that felt like, anyway. 

  “nuh-uh, that's enough for you.” oikawa quickly snatched the blunt from your fingers before you could react.

  you rolled your eyes, not wanting to back down from what felt like a competition. 

  “pft, look who's the pussy now.” you reached to grab for the small piece of blunt left in oikawa’s hand, but your slow reaction rate caused you to miss horribly. 

  “i’m not a pussy, i just know what'll happen to a light-weight like you. if you over-do it you're bound to get sick, and the last thing i need is some random girl who pushed her limits to lose her shit in front of me.” oikawa’s words were harsh, but a playful smirk was planted on his lips. 

  you weren't having it.

  he was right, you had pushed your limits - and oikawa didn't know the half of how stubborn you were. you weren't about to let the guy that was just making fun of you for being so prude, to change his mind and withhold you from proving yourself. 

  “thanks for the advice, but i promise you i can handle myself.” you spat back at the man hovering over you, proceeding to snatch the blunt back from his hand. 

  oikawa chuckled and shook his head at you, deciding to take a seat on the coffee table in front of you.

  “suit yourself.”

  you continued the assault on your lungs; taking long hits of the remainder of the blunt, coughing hysterically, drowning yourself in water, then repeating the process again. you'd think the group of boys would have some complaints about you hogging the last few hits of their weed, but they just sat back and reveled in the sight of you struggling to keep up your pride, entertained at the sight of your flushed cheeks. 

  it wasn't until you were sucking at practically nothing that you realized you'd finished the blunt, still unsatisfied with the lack of buzz you felt.

  “wow that was exactly what I thought it would be, a total waste of money and lung health.” you laughed dryly, leaning back onto the couch in discontent. 

  “not your money.” mattsun rolled his eyes at you.

  “just wait till it hits, she’ll be fucked.” makki laughed loudly at your expense, nodding his head in your direction at mattsun. 

  all the guys chuckled in unison, they seemed to do that a lot through out the night.

  “glad our weed was just a waste to you, maybe buy your own next time.” oikawa’s eyes held mischief in them as they glared at you, a playful scowl on his lips.

  “oh i’m sorry, did i waste your precious weed?” you jutted your bottom lip out in a faux pout, your eyes containing an unintentionally seductive glint in them. 

  oikawa narrowed his eyes back at you, feeding into the little game you were starting. 

  “yeah, I think you did. how ‘bout you pay up for it, hm sweetheart?” he leaned over his lap, forearms resting on the tops of his thighs and his face nearing closer to yours. 

  your mouth opened to retort something back, but words failed to come out as your vision started becoming hazy and an urge to laugh started sprouting in your stomach. you couldn't contain the laughter that spilled from your mouth, cheeks heating up and body beginning to feel numb. 

  “yeah...she’s gone.” iwaizumi chuckled. 

  oikawa smirked at you, his face still so close to yours that you could faintly feel the warmth of his breath on you. 

  “no i’m not...” you let out a few more giggles as you felt a numbing feeling take over your arms and legs. you slapped your legs in hopes to regain some feeling in them, giggling once again at how heightened your senses were becoming. 

  “oh god, wasn't expecting to have to babysit today.” makki groaned from the other side of the couch.

  “you literally aren't doing anything.” mattsun prodded back at him.

  “true, this is oikawa’s problem now.”

  the chesnut-haired man chuckled in front of you, pressing his hands to his knees as he pushed himself off the coffee table.

  “there's no way i’m letting you get in an uber tonight, come with me.” he held his hand out in front of your face.

  your mind was on a whole different level than his. your vision felt extremely clear, you couldn’t help how your eyes trailed over every tattoo and vein running down oikawa’s hand and forearm right in front of you - mouth unapologetically agape at the sight. 

  “come on, don't give me a hard time, yeah?” his voice sounded smoother than you ever heard it, it echoed in your brain and overstimulated your senses. you wanted to hear more. 

  “no.” you pouted, reddening eyes glancing up through your lashes to lock with his. 

  “no?”

  “no.” you were firm, or tried to be, another fit of giggles threatened to bubble out of your throat. 

  he cocked an eyebrow at you, clearly not following your message. 

  “want...oikawa...” you were unable to finish your sentence, your brain suddenly forgetting what words were supposed to come next.

  he leaned down to your height with his hands propped up against his knees, face merely inches from yours. he held a permanent smirk on his lips and his eyes teased you with faux seduction, oikawa almost always knew what he was doing. 

  “want me to do what?” his voice was lower than usual, softer too. 

  “need...” you knew you needed something, you just couldn't think of what.

  “yeah? keep going, baby.”

  you furrowed your brows in frustration, your brain was a little too hazy for your liking and the small bit of rationality that you still had inside you was getting fed up with how stupid you were acting. 

  “kiss.” you blurted out, then bit your lip and dropped your gaze as if you just exposed a secret that you weren't supposed to tell anymore. 

  “a kiss where?” he taunted you, bringing a finger underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his once more. 

  what felt like a few seconds to you - was almost a full minute in real time, of you staring up at oikawa; mouth agape, eyes hooded, not saying a word.

  “everywhere.” he almost couldn't hear you, because of how soft your words came out. 

  oikawa didn't show it, but his stomach erupted in warmth at your words, that same warmth flooding down to his crotch. he bit his tongue before responding to you, he knew damn well you were in no state of mind to be making these decisions. 

  but you just looked so pretty sitting below him like that; eyes lidded with the daze from your high mixed with lust, lips parted, and legs crossed to cover up the growing wetness coming from your core. 

  “mmm, tempting, but i don't particularly enjoy taking advantage of women while they're high.” he sighed, shaking his head in hopes it would get rid of his lewd thoughts.

  you pouted in return. sure, the buzz from your high was strong, strong enough to make you regret how bold you were acting when you woke up tomorrow, but not strong enough to have sex with someone you had no interest in. no, you had been looking him up and down all night long. you wanted this, the buzz just gave you the confidence you didn't have before - and who were you not to take this opportunity? 

  it wasn't just the lack of rationality from your high that made you want this from him, it was the heightened senses. every time you were close to him, everytime his eyes gazed over yours, you felt a million sparks burst through out your body. you were convinced that the second he touched you, your skin would ignite with flames. 

  you grabbed his hand, pulling him back in to destroy the distance he made between you two. 

  “i know what i want, and i've wanted this the whole night. despite what you think, i’m not some virgin mary. so are you gonna continue to act like a little pussy, or are you going to fuck mine?” 

  a gasp was heard from the right of you, makki. he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth after oikawa sent a glare his way. 

  “and what happens when you regret this tomorrow?” he raised an eyebrow down at you playfully.

  “something tells me that, that won't happen... unless, you're saying that it's short?” you questioned him with a gaze that fluttered down to his crotch, then back up to his eyes. 

  oikawa had to hold back the growl that threatened to escape his lips, and the hand that twitched in anticipation to squeeze your throat. 

  “oh, it’s most certainly not.”

  you had expected oikawa to take you back to his room, at least. 

  you didn't think he'd wrap his hand around your throat and push you up against the couch right there. 

  right in front of makki and mattsun.

  right next to iwaizumi. 

  you struggled against the strength of oikawa’s death grip around your neck, unsure if your hazy vision was from the loss of air you were getting or the impending high from the weed. 

  “you said you wanted to be fucked, right?” oikawa’s words were laced with a venom you hadn't heard from him before, his eyes sadistically glaring down into yours. 

  you opened your mouth to respond, but your words were cut off with a harsh cough from the painful position you were in. 

  “c’mon ‘kawa, at least loosen your grip a little.” iwaizumi’s voice of reason brought a warmth to your chest, suddenly grateful for his presence. 

  oikawa smirked above you, moving his hand from its grip on your throat to mindlessly caress the outside of your breasts, thumb pressing against the material of your dress where your nipples would be. 

 “fine, but only ‘cause iwa-chan said so.” you glared up at him, your competitive nature fighting the fear of him choking you again.

  you cleared your throat, well aware of the burning sensation still evident in your wind pipe, “i said i wanted to be fucked, yes, but not in front of your friends.” 

  that earned a chuckle from makki and mattsun - and a smirk from oikawa and iwaizumi. 

  “but i thought you wanted to prove you werent a little prude, i thought you would want to prove my friends wrong - or are you a coward like i predicted?” his thumb and middle finger were now pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress and your bralette, making you squirm underneath him. 

  you could feel what you only assumed to be the peak of your high reaching, it was making every touch and every word from oikawa feel and sound 10 times better than it would've before. at this point you were willing to fuck him wherever he wanted. 

  cheeks flushed, and eyes averted to the side - away from oikawa’s face, you muttered a “fine.”

  “what was that, sweetheart? i can’t hear you.”

  “i said fine.”

  makki joined in on the teasing, “wait, what did she say oikawa? i cant hear from all the way over here.” 

  god, you couldn’t stand these fuckers.

  “i said, it’s fucking fine. jesus chri-” your aggrivated screams at the men were soon cut off by oikawa’s tight grip on your jaw, a searing kiss pressed against your lips soon following.

  “enough talking, you need to take my dick now.” oikawa was breathless after engaging in the fiery kiss, he was soon found ripping off your dress.

  you felt it, you felt the peak of your high approaching. everything felt so fucking good; his hands grazing your body as he ripped your dress off, the burning stares of makki, mattsun, and iwaizumi, and the empty buzz in the back of your head - it all made you feel breathless. 

  oikawa noticed your dazed out face, he hadn't even fucked you yet and you already appeared to be full of bliss. 

  “no fair, she’s high out of her mind and i’m sober. do me a favor and roll me a blunt while i eat her out, makki.” oikawa pouted above you, continuing to discard your clothing while he waited for makki to prepare him a blunt.

  you may have been peaking, but your mind jumped at the thought of oikawa eating you out. you were suddenly becoming extremely aware of the situation at hand again. 

  “i- are you sure about-” you stuttered, shaky hands from the numbing feeling of your high came down to grip at the soft panties you wore that oikawa was attempting to rip off. 

  “‘s the matter? has our little virgin mary never had her pussy licked before?” oikawa smirked down at your burning body, both burning in embarrassment and in an immense amount of desire. 

  you decided to stay silent, gaze averting to the side once again.

  oikawa wasn't having it, he gripped your chin with his free hand - pulling your gaze back to his.

  “you were all bark before, where's the bite? don't disappoint me now, y/n” his gaze was intense, to say the least, and your body still felt like it was floating from the peak. 

  you swallowed the thickness inside your throat, building the small amount of courage you had left. 

  “i can bite, and i will.” you looked up at him with complete malice, and he mirrored your expression, adding his trademark smirk to his lips. 

  “we’ll see about that, little one.” 

  the unexpected nickname had your head spinning, you were quick to feel a familiar heartbeat thumping down towards your core. 

  you soon felt extremely aware of the way he was touching you, head lowering down towards your thighs, gently pushing your hand away from its grip on your panties. 

  it was true, you hadn't been eaten out before. you only had sex once and your boyfriend at the time finished in 30 seconds, tops - leaving you unsatisfied and humiliated. 

  but oikawa felt different, even though the sex was initiated to save your pride - a competitive desire to prove yourself to people you had just met - you could tell that behind his teasing, he cared about your pleasure. it showed in his small touches; the way he gently caressed your skin before ridiculing you, the way his eye flickered up to yours before dipping his head in-between your thighs. you sensed the emotions he held deep inside of him, the ones he kept hidden. maybe that's the reason you felt you could trust him, maybe that's why you didn't run out of his house the second you saw his sketchy friends.

  maybe that’s why you so badly wanted to prove yourself to him. 

  makki began to roll a blunt, as instructed by oikawa, as he began eating you out. mattsun and iwaizumi’s eyes burned holes into your skin as they watched.

  your body twitched after the first few licks from him, immediately becoming obsessed with the feeling. oikawa’s tongue felt warm and soft against your clit, the slow pace of the circles around the bud were driving your body crazy. your thighs instinctively went to close around his head, but he held them down with a firm grasp, only intensifying the pace of his tongue in disapproval of how your body misbehaved.

  “relax.” he drawled into your skin, continuing his assault on your clit.

  you bit your lip and nodded in response, trying to keep your calm as your body had never experienced such pleasure before. 

  oikawa expertly switched his tongue from your clit to your hole, replacing the stimulation on your clit with his thumb whilst fucking you slowly with his firm tongue. you unintentionally let out a loud whine, head thrusting back into the plush pillow of the couch and fingers going to thread in oikawa’s brown locks.

  “feels good?” the voice came from next to you, iwaizumi’s. 

  your eyes glazed over to his, lids becoming heavy and lips parting open as you panted out a “yes.”

  oikawa noticed your attention diverting over from him to his best friend, his brows furrowed in annoyance. to grasp your attention once more, he removed his tongue from your hole and replaced it on your clit again, then shoved his middle finger inside you with no warning - making sure to curl it all the way up. 

  his harsh actions against your cunt had you loudly moaning with your head thrown back in both pain and pleasure. just one of his fingers alone filled you up more than your exes entire cock ever did. 

  your eyes immediately squeezed shut at the feeling, toes curling from the sensation of his finger thrusting inside you, mixed with the feeling of his tongue swirling your clit. 

  oikawa lifted his head to click his tongue at you, “no baby, you’re gonna look at me while you cum, okay?” 

  his tone was sweet, but firm enough to make you quickly shoot your eyes open and nod at him obediently. 

  he mumbled a “good girl” before going back to licking up and down your cunt. he went through a routine of switching between circling your clit, swiping his tongue from side to side, sucking on your swollen bud, and rapidly lapping up your pussy - all while fucking you with his finger. 

  he didn't even get the chance to add a second finger before you felt your climax approaching. your head was still spacey from the high, so you weren't sure if this feeling was from oikawa or if it was just your hazy brain, but you found out sooner than later as you orgasm began to take over you. 

  oikawa got the idea that you were reaching your climax as your little hole pulsed around his finger and your legs shook around his head. as much as he wanted to tease and edge you, he decided he wanted to fuck you more.

  he helped you ride out your orgasm as his tongue prodded at your clit relentlessly, licking and sucking at the firm bud, finger curling further and further into the depths of your gummy walls, 

  euphoria took over you as you felt the numbing feeling from your high intertwine with the body-racking orgasm that oikawa was providing you. your entire body felt lighter than it ever had before; sweet, pure release exiting your body. 

  your head was spinning and your chest was heaving from the aftermath, your body began to feel extremely tired. the weight from the entire day you had came crashing over you, as the sweet release you once felt subsided. you felt good, but you needed a nap. 

  through eyes that were barely open, you watched as oikawa smirked down at your disheveled form and carefully grabbed something from makki’s outstretched hand. 

  “glad you enjoyed that, princess, but it’s my turn now.” oikawa stealthily unbuttoned his pants after placing his blunt in-between his lips, strategically sucking in the smoke and blowing it out without having to remove the object from his lips. 

  you nodded at him, half-understanding what he meant. you were by no means sober, but you definitely felt the strong buzz dying down. 

  “i’m gonna need verbal responses, sweetheart.” he leaned down just above your face, breathing out smoke as he got closer. the strong scent filled up your nostrils.

  you couldn't help but scrunch your nose up at the strong smell, you may have been sucking down a blunt yourself not even 30 minutes ago, but you would never get used to the grotesque odor. 

  oikawa noticed, and raised a curious brow at you. 

  “ah, so we still think weed is gross? after you smoked almost an entire blunt by yourself?” his tone seemed amusing, but his eyes told a whole different story.

  “god, first she wastes our weed and now she acts like she didn't even like it?” mattsun crossed his arms over his chest while facing you, eyes giving your naked body a once over. 

  you were too blissed out to even fight them this time, you just desperately wanted a nap, 

  “hey, all i said was that i’d prove to you guys i’m not a prude, and i did. doesn't mean i have to like the smell of your stinky weed.” your words were mumbled from your tired state, but still not wanting to accept defeat.

  “nah, i don't think you’ve proved yourself at all yet.” makki chuckled dryly at you.

  “yeah, all you've done is get high and be a fucking pillow princess for oikawa.” mattsun chimed in.

  “and a brat too.” makki added on to mattsun’s sentence. 

  oikawa raised his chin cockily, clearly satisfied with his friend’s insolent words. 

  then, an idea clicked in his mischievous mind. he narrowed his eyes down at your pathetic figure sprawled out underneath him as he thought about it. 

  “oh please, don't be sore losers. i smoked your fucking weed and let oikawa eat me out, just admit i’m not a prude like you thought i was.” you tried to regain the similar confident composure that you held before, glaring over at makki and mattsun. 

  “hmm, maybe you aren't a prude, but you're still a pretentious brat, and brats deserve to be tamed. don't you think?” oikawa’s voice was smooth and easy-going, but his words were dripping with malice.

  you found the courage to narrow your eyes back up at oikawa, despite the internal feeling of your heart hammering against your chest.

  “and how do you plan on doing that?” you tested him.

  he chuckled lowly at your obviously feigned confidence, he could just tell by your flushed cheeks.

  he lowered his face to hover above yours for the nth time that night, placing the blunt in-between his lips and sucking the smoke into his mouth. before even inhaling, he pulled your bottom lip down with his thumb and put his lips on yours, releasing the thick smoke into your mouth. 

  your once lidded eyes were now widened, your hand quickly came up to grab at oikawa’s arm. he pulled away quickly, chuckling at how you choked on the smoke - eyes watering up again just as they had done before. 

  “you-” you choked out another cough, “asshole.”

  oikawa raised an eyebrow at you, reveling in the way his best friends laughed from the sidelines at your expense.

  “mmm, i don't think you're in any position to be calling me names.”

  you glared up at him, quickly blinking away the stray tears that remained in-between your lashes.

  “oh, and what position would that be?” the fire you held before was coming back, and this time it wasn't because you wanted to prove yourself.

  no, you just wanted to see how far you could push him. 

  a familiar large hand came up instinctively to wrap around your throat, pushing you against the couch once again as he tauntingly held the burning blunt inches away from your face. 

  “i wouldn't test me, darling. clearly, you aren't aware of how far i'll go to put a bitch like you in your place.” he spat down at you, his eyes were dark and he was still holding the glowing blunt way too close to your face for your liking.

  but you couldn't stop yourself, you kept pushing and pushing. 

  “show me then. i’m not getting any younger here, am i?” 

  a laugh was heard from your right, it was quickly muffled as mattsun slapped a hand over the mouth of its carrier: makki, of course.

  oikawa clicked his tongue at your confidence, knowing damn well that you'd regret it later. 

  “sure, i’ll show you.” he spoke in a low voice as he brought the hand holding his blunt down your body, stopping when he reached your thigh. you sucked in a nervous breath in anticipation, the burning bud was only a centimeter away from the smooth skin of your exposed thigh. your heartbeat was increasing and you felt your blood running cold, you opened your mouth to protest at the last moment, but the sadistic man beat you to it.

  you felt a burning sensation press into the outside of your thigh, causing you to immediately grab at oikawa’s arm with a shrill scream escaping your mouth. the man only laughed above you, nudging your death grip on his arm off with ease.

  “what’s the matter? i thought you could handle it.” he jutted his bottom lip out to feign a sorrowful expression, you wanted to kill him. 

  “you just- you just fucking burned me.” your chest was heaving and you felt yourself slowly getting terrified at what would come next.

  the boys next to you were silent as they watched the scene unfold, oikawa could only smirk down at you. 

  he pulled another hit out of the blunt and dipped his head in-between the crevice of your neck and shoulder. you tensed at the feeling of his lips being so close to your skin, then relaxed when you felt him blow the warm smoke into your skin. the subtle feeling of the warmth from the smoke ghosting over your skin almost made you moan out loud. instead, your body betrayed you with a shudder.

  “mmm, something tells me you liked that. don't act so innocent, little slut.” your breath hitched at his words.

  “just because i may have liked that, doesn't mean i enjoyed being used as an ashtray.” you gestured towards your scorned thigh.  

  he chuckled lowly at you, then brought his free hand down towards the burn mark left in your skin and pressed his thumb against it slowly. this time, the painful feeling of a sting in your skin forced a guttural moan out of your throat, instead of a screech. you instinctively brought your hand up to cover your mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment. 

  “really? ‘cause i think you do.” oikawa laughed at your obvious humiliation and pulled your hand away from your mouth, rolling his eyes in the process.  

  “c’mon, quit acting like a damn prude still, darling. admit you're enjoying this shit.” mattsun spoke from his spot on the couch, now resting his right arm over the side of the couch to get a better look at you. 

  you scoffed at him, cocking your head towards him in response. 

  “i thought i was a brat, not a prude anymore.” 

  makki chuckled at your rebuttal.

  “’kawa, i think she’s getting a little too feisty again, you might wanna smoke her out again.” 

  you almost choked at his words, quickly whipping your head back to face oikawa. you felt your stomach drop at the devilish smirk he gave you. 

  you were just beginning to sober up, and they already wanted you dumbed down again? 

  “fair point, makki. i can't fuck her while she’s running her mouth like this, right?”

  before you knew it, your mouth was being filled with smoke again. oikawa restarted his method of sucking on the blunt before pressing his lips to yours again. your mind was entering a similar haze as before once again, body also being filled with warmth and pleasure as oikawa began rubbing his bare cock against your pussy. 

  before sliding in, he pressed his shortening blunt against your skin once more - this time, on the fat of your right hip. you pleasantly moaned at both the pain and pleasure from the sensation this time, and oikawa couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of your walls visibly crashing down. 

  he didn't even give you a second to adjust to the searing pain you felt on your skin before he was thrusting into you, causing you to practically scream at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. 

  “oh, f-fuck.” your nails made their home on the skin of his back, sinking into his smooth flesh in response to the pain you felt in your core. to your dismay, the numbing feeling that spread across your body from your high didn't help at all to prevent the newfound pain from oikawa’s cock entering you. 

  “god, look at her. our little virgin mary is being corrupted.” mattsun’s deep voice was heard from across the couch. you were surprised to look over and see him fisting his own girthy cock while staring down at you, makki and iwa were doing the exact same thing. 

  oikawa chuckled breathlessly at his comment, earning your attention back to him. 

  “shit, you're tighter than i expected, princess.” his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his eyes were slightly hooded from his approaching high, and his tattoo littered arms were flexed in front of you for support - you decided you had never been more turned in your entire life. 

  “move, please.” you begged breathlessly, head feeling hazy and numb, while your body felt extremely sensitive to the touch. your senses were heightened once again and it had you craving an orgasm more than ever. 

   “since you asked so politely.” oikawa’s hips began snapping at that moment, hard thrusts sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

  next to you, the three boys began pumping their cocks with more fervor, pace quickening in time with oikawa’s. 

  oikawa didn't cease his antics of blowing smoke into your mouth either. with his cock slamming into you at such an ungodly speed, your lips were constantly parted open - leaving him easy access to fill up your lungs with the same smoke you disdained so much. 

  your body was betraying your mind. physically, you felt fucking amazing - but mentally, you wanted to yell at oikawa to quit his abuse on your lungs. 

  “q-quit it with the smoke. i think i’m high enough.” you stumbled over your words.

  oikawa bit down on your neck in response to your distaste, hot breath fanning over your ear to whisper lowly, “quit being a fucking brat first, and take what i give you.” 

  you shut your mouth obediently, until makki chimed in.

  “you should be grateful that oikawa is being so generous as to blow his weed into your mouth without making you do a damn thing. say thank you, slut.” his words were harsh and gritted through his clenched teeth as he pumped his cock harder, eyes burning into your skin. 

  you whimpered at his pitiless words and at the feeling of oikawa thrusting into you with more power, clearly encouraged by his friends praise.

  “i-” your remark was cut off by oikawa’s firm hand around your throat once more.

  “what do you have to say to me?” his eyes burned into yours, telling you that his question was not actually a question, but a demand. 

  “t-thank you, oikawa.” your eyes were brimming with tears from the lack of oxygen circulating towards your brain. 

  he only squeezed harder.

  “what's my fucking name.” his lips were ghosting over yours now, his hot breath only added to the heat that was already evident on your face. 

  your bottom lip wobbled, you had no idea what kind of name he would like. if you guessed wrong, what would he do?

  “thank you, sir.” you silently prayed you chose the right one, and your prayer was granted as oikawa removed his tight grip from your throat and smashed his lips onto yours - practically growling into the kiss. 

  you moaned into his mouth as you felt the pleasure in your stomach building up at an increasingly fast speed. your head was spinning and your body was on fire, you never felt better in your life.

  “feels...so fucking good.” your words came out in pants. you could barely think straight anymore; your mind was only filled with oikawa’s cock and the impending numbness from weed. 

  your attention was snatched from oikawa as you heard a deep guttral moan come from the side of you, it was iwaizumi’s. the once quiet man was becoming more vocal as his own orgasm was approaching.

  “yeah, you like getting high and getting fucked in front of random strangers you just met, huh?” your face burned at his surprising words, never did you expect to hear such a sentence come from (what you thought was) such a polite man’s mouth. 

  then again, you never even expected you would ever be in a situation like this before either. 

  “y-yes, i do.” your walls had broken down and they could all see it. there was no more sticking your nose up at them anymore, no more bratty comments at the expense of their drug of choice, and no more pretending like you weren't enjoying yourself tonight - because you clearly were. 

  the boys chuckled all at once at your sudden submission, but oikawa wasn't surprised. 

  there was only a small bud left of what was the blunt in oikawa’s hand, but he manage to suck one more hit out of it. you parted your lips with expectations of him to release the puff of smoke into your mouth, but to your surprise, he ducked his head above your left breast and let out the smoke slowly over your perked nipple. the subtle sensation left goosebumps all over your body, causing you to moan under his soft touch.

  see, unbeknownst to you, oikawa was a man of observation - and he couldn't help but become blatantly aware of your body’s hypersensitivity to the small, subtle actions he went about. whether it be from the weed or from your inexperience in sexual situations, oikawa didn't know. he just knew he was extremely fascinated and infatuated with the way your body reacted to him. 

  he bored down into your lidded, reddening eyes, your lips were parted as you panted out his name and the look on your face only told him that you were gone.

  he swore he had never fucked somebody prettier than you, he silently hoped one day he'd get to see you with your lips wrapped around his cock. 

  unable to help himself, oikawa stuck his thumb into your mouth, pushing the digit as far in as it would go. 

  you were taken aback by the action at first, but your mind was quickly put at ease by the warm feeling of being filled by him in two different places at once. you swirled your tongue around his finger, both sucking on it and licking it.

  the sight in front of him had his knees practically buckling above you, he couldn't fight the approaching feeling of his orgasm unraveling before him. 

  “you're gonna be a good little girl and let me cum inside you, yeah?” his voice was hoarse, moans and grunts beginning to spill from his lips more while he looked down at you with complete darkness in his eyes. 

  god, you weren't thinking straight.

  but you really didn't care. 

  you nodded as best as you could with the spinning feeling inside your head, body filling to the brim with pleasure as you felt your own orgasm approaching you. oikawa quickened his pace as he felt your cunt squeezing his girth, almost like your body had a mind of its own to suck him dry. 

  “such a little slut, letting you fill her up with smoke and cum.” mattsun’s deep voice was heard from beside iwaizumi. his eyes were still glued to your form and the head of his cock was a bright red, begging for release. 

  “let’s see you try and act fucking innocent again after this.” makki added with a chuckle, he was just as close to finishing as his friend. 

  you moaned helplessly at their ridicules, feeling your coil so close to snapping.

  “god, you fucking revel in the attention don't you? you're literally getting off from being watched like this, so exposed and vulnerable.” mattsun spoke up again.

  yours and oikawa’s labored breathing harmonized as you both got closer and closer to your releases. 

  “they're right, you're such a little fucking attention whore. sucking in my cock like that while my friends watch. you're so desperate, it’s pathetic.” oikawa was internally amazed at himself for being able to muster a complete sentence out while his cock was so close to being practically milked. 

  you whined in response, your cheeks heating up. you didn't care about anything else, you just wanted to cum. 

  “p-please, i'm so close.” you cried out, tears beginning to brim at your eyes. 

  “fuck. cum, cum princess.” the voice came from your right side, your eyes trailed over to the source, being iwaizumi. 

  oikawa scoffed, “you don't listen to anyone else, got that? just me, sweetheart.” he shot daggers with his eyes towards iwaizumi, and he shot them right back at oikawa. 

  you blinked your eyes at oikawa, not realizing the competitive banter between them until now.

  “let her fucking cum already, ‘kawa.” iwa growled at his best friend, his cock was an angry red. you could tell he just wanted to finish, as well as makki and mattsun. 

  oikawa gritted his teeth, knowing damn well that his orgasm was approaching too. 

  “alright, cum for me, slut. squeeze my fucking cock with that pretty little cunt of yours, okay?” 

  his wish was your command, and it’s not like you were able to hold back anymore, anyway.

  you felt the coil snap inside you; already fuzzy mind going completely blank, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, and thighs shaking around oikawa’s torso. he felt your cunt pulse around his cock and he couldn't help how quick his orgasm followed after yours, teeth instinctively latching onto your shoulder as he pumped you full of his semen. 

  oikawa helped you ride out your high as he slowed down his thrusts, eventually ceasing them. your orgasm combined with oikawa’s was so intense, that you failed to even acknowledge that the three boys next to you were coming too, fists beginning to slow down their movements. 

  after a few minutes of collective panting heard throughout the room, makki broke the silence.

  “holy shit.”

  you agreed, holy shit was right. 

  after passing out on oikawa’s couch from pure exhaustion, the sobering-up man carried you, with some effort, to his room to spend the night. being the gentleman he was, he tucked you in carefully under the covers of his bed and set up a somewhat comfortable sleeping arrangement for himself on the living room couch. 

  before retreating to his makeshift bed to crash on for the night, he peaked into his room once more - eyes scanning over your sleeping figure as you slept soundly. he noticed that while you slept, all the worry and pouting that was usually so evident on your face seemed to fade away. you look relaxed, at ease even. he thought maybe you just needed to loosen up more, to let your worries fade away every so often, while you lose yourself in the late hours of the night.

  he thought that maybe, he could be the one to teach you how. 

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haiqueue #oikawa tooru #oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x fem!reader #oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa tōru #hq #hq smut #hq smau #oikawa au #oikawa fanfiction

[stxrshxpxd]

“you will always annoy me” x 90s!damon

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Word count: 1.872

Warnings: smut

Requested by anon x

* * *

“Why can you not stand to be around me for more than two minutes?”

Damon’s voice broke through the thick air and loud music as he tried to catch up with my determined steps. A short-lived vague conversation with a few nasty remarks had blossomed between us in the middle of this party, and my turning my heel had sparked a ridiculous chase scene throughout the house. I should’ve seen it coming though, Damon was never one to shy away from an argument.

“I know you don’t think I’m good enough for Justine-”

“I think you’re stubborn and annoying-”

“Justine is stubborn too. She seems to be able to take me,” Damon had regressed back to his calm voice again. We had found ourselves standing still in a quieter corner of the party.

“But her stubbornness is charming,” I argued, desperately wanting his poorly lit annoying smirk wiped off his face. He chuckled shortly and looked down.

“Sounds like someone has a crush on my girlfriend,” he teased while looking up at me again, the annoying smirk still there.

“Oh please, what do you know about having a crush? You’re too in love with yourself,” I spat. The alcohol was getting to me a bit and my words sounded harsher when they left my mouth than they had in my head.

“You’re not denying it-” Damon singsonged and I rolled my eyes excessively.

“I do not have a crush on my best friend,” I stated as clearly as the alcohol in my system would allow, laughing slightly at the absurdity of his claim.

“Then do you have a crush on me? It must be one of us. Why else do you care so much about our relationship?”

It was hard to tell from the dark corner we were standing in but he had narrowed his eyes and deepened his smirk. He too was drunk but he still knew his way around his words and he was not ready to back down from our dispute.

“God, do you hear yourself?” I raised my voice and laughed dryly as I pulled my hands through my hair. “You’re not as pretty as all those little girls make you think you are.”

Damon stepped closer to me.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really.”

“Really?” he asked again in a quieter voice and stepped in even closer. My blood was boiling for various reasons and his smirk was still staring at me. I knew I could never admit it even to myself but I was the one to pull him in by the cheeks and place a harsh kiss on his lips. A fraction of a moment passed of Damon pulling away and staring at me, but then he continued the kiss and his tongue met mine. He tasted of that awful beer he had been drinking all night and the cigarette he still held between his fingers, the butt of it pressing into my cheek as he held my face.

Damon forced me further into the corner until my back hit the wall and I gasped at the pressure of his body pressing against mine. His chest and shoulders had never looked as broad as they felt now when my hands were blindly exploring his body. I let them move up to his head again and firmly grab his thick hair in my fists.

Damon kept pushing me a bit further along the wall until we found ourselves stumbling into a dark room. Before I knew it I was the one to push him against the closed door behind him, but he wasn’t having any of it. He flipped me around and caught my wrists in his hands, pinning them to the door.

“You’re sure you don’t think I’m pretty?” he teased as I breathed heavily through my nose with a tightened jaw.

“I’m not attracted to you,” I snapped at him and made a weak attempt to wriggle out of his grip when really I didn’t want him to let go of me. It was merely an act to keep up my facade. I couldn’t admit to him, much less myself, that I was a bit weak in the knees because of his wet kisses.

“Sure, darling. Keep telling yourself that,” he mumbled cockily as his hands slid down my side and he began to crouch down until his lips were on my stomach. As attractive as he was, his cockiness still triggered an eye roll from me.

He pushed my top up and traced sloppy kisses up my stomach until he was standing straight again and he had pulled my top over my head.

“Well, I’ll be the first to admit, I’m attracted to you.”

No lights were on in the room but the moonlight coming in through the massive windows laid across my half naked body. Damon’s eyes were practically glued to my chest and my breasts that were only covered in a thin mesh bra. I couldn’t decide if the spellbound look on his face made me want to punch him or kiss him.

“Good for you,” I sneered and pushed my hand through his fringe. He laughed and rolled his eyes before his hands were tightly hugging my waist and his lips were back on mine again.

He had managed to hold onto his almost finished cigarette with such poise all this time, and now he made me watch him take a long inhale with the cig between his lips. This was completely and utterly a performance on his part, like almost everything he did was. It made me want to roll my eyes again but I stopped myself, deciding to match his cocky act. Stealing the cigarette from him, I too took a long inhale, determined to keep the eye contact alive.

It wasn’t long until the cigarette butt was dropped and Damon crushed it into the floor with his sneaker. Then his t-shirt was on the floor as well and our hands were drawn to each others’ belts. I had almost forgotten how annoying Damon was by the time our jeans were on the floor, but then that smug voice poured out of his mouth again.

“Are you sure you don’t fancy me, even a little bit?” he teased because now his hand had found the outside of my underwear and particularly the damp spot in them. I swallowed a quiet moan and flexed my jaw for a moment.

“I guess you just know what you’re doing.”

I softly pressed my palms against his lower stomach, feeling it expand slightly with every breath of his.

“I guess our bodies are compatible,” Damon countered and raised a brow.

I let my fingers slide down to hook into his underwear and pull him in. A harsh kiss was the only thing I could think of to shut his smug self up. In response he swiftly pushed my underwear to the side and dug his fingers into the source of that wet spot. Now that swallowed moan made its way back up my throat and traveled from my lips to Damon’s.

“And I thought you sounded sexy when you were annoyed,” Damon said, amazed by my pleasured sounds. I grabbed the back of his head and sealed our lips even tighter to keep him quiet, but talking into our kiss myself.

“I’m still annoyed,” I insisted as my hands moved down to his crotch. His body hadn’t been pressing against mine for a while and I found myself in shock at how hard he had grown just from fingering and kissing me. I removed the soft fabric that seperated my hand from his erection and broke our kiss to look down on our bodies. He kept quiet for a moment and let me rest my forehead against the bridge of his nose as I gazed down.

He looked better than he ever had standing in the intense moonlight. Soft shadows sprawled across his body and matched the faint groans falling from his mouth as I gently caressed his cock, rubbing his tip with my thumb.

I had completely lost myself in his body and in a strange way had almost forgotten it was Damon I was with, until he tilted my head up and resumed eye contact. He smirked at my obvious surrender but said nothing, and then he picked my right leg up toward his hip. I bucked mine forward a bit and felt him flick his tip across my clit a few times. I exhaled sharply and moaned loudly, pressing my forehead against his, as he thrusted into me.

“I never dreamed you’d feel this good,” Damon breathed, squeezing my thigh tighter with his left hand and putting his right one next to my face, flush with the surface of the door.

“You’ve dreamed about me?” I teased and held his face gently.

“I know you’ve dreamed about me too, love,” he shot back at me and teamed it with a harder thrust. I decided to ignore his accusation and closed my eyes tightly, as he made it hard to keep them open.

My hands fell to Damon’s warm shoulders and I clawed my nails into his skin, earning another low growl from him. Just about everything inside me was tingling and fluttering and clenching and twitching as he continuously hit a perfect spot inside me.

“Am I as good as you dreamed?” Damon picked the subject back up and smirked incessantly.

“I have never given it a single thought.”

“So, you’re pleasantly surprised,” he decided for me and I couldn’t disagree. All I could do, in fact, was dig my nails further into his skin and allow my whimpers to escape me as they pleased.

“I will be if you keep doing that,” I sighed, referring to the perfect pace and force he had conjured up. To my surprise he didn’t change a thing about what he was doing to me. I had never pegged him for a good listener or one to obey orders very well. With his large cock inside me and his hot breaths on my face I was almost beginning to warm up to Damon.

“Fuck.. Damon,” I moaned and let my face bury into the crook of his neck as my orgasm flooded my body and mind for a couple long seconds.

Now my knees were undoubtedly weak, I realised when Damon eventually pulled out and let go of my thigh. I surrendered to his demanding hand and knelt down immediately. That dominant hand held the top of my head and I let my tongue hang out as he pressed his sticky tip against it.

“Oh my god,” Damon exhaled, letting his head fall back momentarily, and he orgasmed all over my tongue. I felt it begin to slide down my throat and just as he looked down at me again I swallowed. It had gotten lost somewhere in the middle of the act but the performance aspect was back and so was my cocky smirk.

“I knew you fancied me, darling,” Damon said proudly and helped me up off the floor.

“You will always annoy me,” I denied with a twinkle in my eye and I placed a gentle but wet kiss on his jaw.

#damon albarn #blur #britpop #90s #graham coxon #dave rowntree #alex james #imagine #fic #blurb #au #smut #fluff #damon albarn x reader

[sunsetinmyvein]

Ran Into Some Complications - Matty Healy

Thank you to the ever lovely @imagine-that-100​ for the request from the prompt list. 

Why did time always seem to go by so slowly when you were stuck waiting by yourself? Was there a reason that seconds seemed to feel like minutes? Was it just mind games or did it literally create some weird kind of wormhole? Probably the former. I checked my phone for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping that I finally had a ‘on my way!’ message sitting there, only to come up empty. Again. So much for meeting at the bar for six - it was already six thirty. I sighed to myself, thanking the bartender as they handed me the cider I had ordered.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing at the bar all by yourself?” I heard a voice call from behind me. I instantly gritted my teeth as I turned to face the source of the sleazy comment. Sure enough, the crooked smile, the greasy, slicked back hair, he looked as shady as he sounded.

“Just waiting for a mate.” I said, trying to diffuse this situation before it started.

“They left you here all alone?” He asked as he slid into the stool next to mine. “Let me buy you a drink.” He added as he tried to flag the bartender down. Ugh. Why.

“No thanks, got one.” I said as I held up my cider. “And they’re on their way.” I dismissed.

“I’ll just keep this stool warm for them, then.” He grinned. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. Gross. This evening was headed in a downward spiral if I didn’t cut this off soon.

“I- you really don’t have to.” I grimaced, my eyes darting around the room to try and spot an easy way out of this. I caught sight of a group of four men walking in, eyeing them hopefully. The one closest to the bar seemed well kept. He had a grey suit jacket on, his straight hair was neatly combed back, he was laughing with his friends. He seemed friendly. He’d do. “Oh, this is him now.”

  I hopped off my stool, stepping in front of the dark-haired man. “What took you so long?” I asked with a warm smile.

He stared at me in bewilderment, “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Come here.” I said with a light laugh, trying to pretend that this wasn’t awkward.

“What? Why?” He asked with a confused frown.

I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him down closer to my level to try and not be overhead. “Please just come here.” I said, trying to look as imploring as I possibly could. This was going to look bad on me if he didn’t come with me. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if this guy shrugged me off and I had to walk back over there. He stared at me for a long moment, before turning back to his friend who had stopped to see what was happening.

“I, erm, suppose I’ll be back in a bit?” He said with a shrug.

  Thankfully, this man came willingly with me back towards the bar. And I was even more grateful for him being quite clued on. He took one look between me, and the greasy dude sitting opposite me, to get the hint.

“So sorry, love. Traffic was awful.” He said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. Geez, he was really going all in. I felt my face burning at the unexpected attention. At least it was going to look the part. “Have you already got a drink?”

“Yeah. Do you want one?” I nodded, turning to him. He really was standing awfully close to me. At this proximity I was able to smell the pleasant smell of the aftershave that he had used.

“I’ll just have my usual.” He said with a smirk.

“Uhh…” My eyes widened as I processed his answer. Fuck. Had this guy just agreed to help me to be equally as annoying as the sleazy one? Maybe I’d just made this situation so much worse. I quickly scanned over his appearance. The neat hair, the grey jacket, he seemed like the kind of person to drink a clear drink. “Gin and tonic.” I ordered apprehensively.

“Close enough.” He chuckled under his breath.

  The bartender brought over the extra drink and passed it over to my new found fake date.

“How was work? Did you get that booking sorted out?” He asked casually. God, he was smooth. He was definitely the right person to have grabbed to act like who I was waiting for.

“Yeah! It was a hassle but I got there in the end.” I laughed with a nod, playing along. I was surprised at how easy this felt, to be honest. This guy gave me the vibes of someone that I’d like to have a genuine conversation with, rather than a pretend one. “What about you?” I asked back. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Taking a quick glance at it, I saw that it was a message from the friend I had been waiting on – saying that they couldn’t make it. Phew. Good thing I had dragged over someone else instead of just waiting.

“The studio was a bit gruelling but that’s nothing new.” He shrugged. Studio? What on earth did this guy do for a living? He must’ve noticed me frowning at his comment, because he just raised an eyebrow like he was challenging me to question it. In taking a good look at him, this guy was a bit of a looker. There were definitely worse people I could’ve grabbed. “But this evening is making up for it.” He added as he took a sip from his glass. Wait. Was he flirting?

  It seemed that whatever this guy was doing worked, because my creepy stalker decided to get up and walk off. I let out a sigh of relief as I looked over at the empty stool.

“Thank god he left.” I huffed.

“He’ll come back.” The dark-haired man shrugged as he slipped into the empty seat. I gave him a questioning look as to how he could know that. “He left his whiskey on the bar.” He added as he gestured towards it.

I nodded in understanding. It was nice at least to have a breather to recompose myself and finally have a sip of my drink. “Thanks for this.” I said after a minute of silence.

“It’s okay.” He replied with what looked like a genuine smile, picking up his gin. “I can think of much worse ways to spend my night.” He added as he eyed me over the rim of his glass.

Now that was definitely flirting. Part of my brain found it ironic to have replaced one guy trying to hit on me with another. But… I didn’t mind so much with this one. “Are you flirting with me?” I accused.

“Are you blushing?” He shot back. The air of confidence surrounding this guy was undeniably attractive.

  Before I had a chance to respond, greasy hair man was back. He frowned at the offender sitting in his stool.

“Do you wan-” He started to say, turning to me. But he was cut off before he could finish whatever he was going to ask.

“I can’t believe that you also listen to them!” My fake date laughed loudly. He fell into these shenanigans far too readily. But I wasn’t about to complain. “Shh… listen…” He said, holding up a hand to quiet us. I stopped talking, trying to listen to whatever he had heard. “That’s the sound of me falling in love with you.” He continued.

I let out an uneasy laugh, trying to shrug off his comment. “I’ve been listening to them for ages.” I responded, trying to keep up with how quickly he was building this story.

“Ah, sorry, mate. Just nice to be together after a long day.” He said with a corny grin as he placed a hand on my knee. I looked down at it for a moment, trying very hard to keep my reactions to his blatant flirting in check. “Matty, by the way.” This guy - Matty, said as he stuck out his hand to sleazy dude. “And you are..?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Leaving.” He answered abruptly as he reached between us and picked up his whiskey, before heading on his way.

“Well… that worked.” I chuckled.

  “Seems I was an effective deterrent.” Matty said with a nod as he took a swig from his glass.

“You did a good job with that.” I agreed. “You were far too good at it, though.”

“Too good?” He asked with a surprised grin. “That doesn’t seem like it should be a problem.”

I shrugged. “Just makes me question how many times girls have roped you into situations like this.”

“Roping me into it? What if I was the one trying to get out of the awkward situation?” He questioned.

“You really get that much unwanted attention?”

“More than you can imagine.”

  We chatted for a bit, actually starting to get to know each other properly now that we didn’t have to play pretend that we already did. It turned out that he was in a band, hence the studio time earlier today. The guys that he had come in with were his band mates, getting a drink after a long day. He had a general sense of charisma and charm about him. The more I talked to him, the more I wanted to keep talking to him. And thankfully the flirting dropped off once there was no longer anyone standing nearby to try and convince. It was easier on my brain to process our conversation without having to also process an attractive man hitting on me. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I was surprised that he was still hanging around, given that what I had asked of him was done now.

“Did you want get out of here?” Matty eventually offered nonchalantly.

I choked on the cider I had been sipping, trying to recompose my thoughts. “What?” I spluttered.

“He’s still side eyeing you across the bar,” He explained, gesturing towards the other side of the room. He was right, sleazy man was boring holes into the side of my head. “if we leave together then he should get the hint.” Right. That made much more sense than the alternative reason as to why he’d ask that.

  Matty’s plan worked. We were not followed when we stepped outside into the brisk night air and ordered an uber. He sent a message to his friends, letting them know that he had to leave. I felt bad. His night had been forced to end because of me. I told him that it was fine now, that I’d be happy to head home by myself and he could go back inside to his friends. But he insisted that he make sure I get home safe. The sentiment was pretty heart-warming, to be honest. I doubt I could’ve picked a better guy to help me in such a shitty situation. Once we were settled in the back of the car, I could finally breathe a bit easier. It was nice to not feel like I was being shadowed.

“Sorry for ruining your night.” I apologised.

“Ah, you didn’t ruin it.” He said with a dismissive hand wave. “I dread the thought about what might’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up.” He continued, staring out the window pensively, before he seemed to knock himself out of whatever train of thought he had been on. “But good thing I was.” He said as he turned back to me with a bright grin.

“Well, thank you.” I nodded. “You were good company, for a fake date.” I chuckled, nudging his side playfully.

“Well… I wouldn’t mind taking you out to a bar again as a not fake date.” He offered, running a hand through his hair. He… what? My brain took a second to comprehend what he was suggesting. “If you’d let me.” He quickly added.

My thoughts kicked into gear as I realised that he thought I might decline. “Yeah. Yeah! That sounds like a good idea.” I agreed.

“I assure you, I’m a much better real date than fake date.”

#matthew healy x reader #matty healy x reader #sunsetinmyvein prompts #sunsetinmyvein requests #sunsetinmyvein

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Beauty Inside

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One: The Serpent Beneath

Request: @daltonacademia​: Draco x Gryffindor reader and maybe like a faking dating type of situation? I am a sucker for the faking dating trope lmao. Maybe you could even spice it up by making it kind of an inside out version of enemies to lovers when they act lovey-dovey in public but in secret despise each other until they slowly get feelings??

A/n: I promised this and here it is. I was going to make it three parts but I’m not that mean. I really did enjoy this fake dating trope and want to explore some different routes. In the mean time, enjoy this one filled with pinning and comfort

“The hell do you mean you’re dating that Gryffindor?” Pansy hissed, shoving him against the nearest wall.

“Calm down Pans,” Draco smirked, pushing her off and righting his shirt. “I’m only doing it to get at Potter. Golden boy wants her and she’s mine,” The smugness rolled off of him in waves.

“You... you’re...” Pansy relaxed, clearly impressed. “Gotta say Malfoy, I’m impressed.”

“Of course, you are, and after Potter’s realized he’s lost, I’ll dump her in front of the entire student body and...” He shrugged. It was almost too easy.

“You’ve outdone yourself Malfoy,” Pansy grinned. “How in the world did you convince her to go out with you?”

There was no way that he was telling Pansy that this had been your idea that he had jumped on board with. That would be the same as admitting you were as devious and cunning as he was, and he would not have that. And neither would Pansy.

“Potter tried to ask her to the Yule Ball this morning in Potions, I stepped in and she didn’t give anything a way. After class we made the deal.”

Pansy seemed to leave him alone after that clearly satisfied with his story. Now that he had time to slow down and think about it, far away from your smile and fierce determination in your eyes, he could easily plan on breaking your heart. Of course, he had to plan dinner first, but he could multitask could he not?

Dinner was easy to plan with Pansy’s help. Of course, he couldn’t avoid it being in the Great Hall, after all the entire point was to be together in the public eye, but he could easily make sure that you weren’t amidst a few dozen Slytherins who loved to hate you.

The hours seemed to slip by until it was time to pick you up. Draco didn’t particularly enjoy walking so close to the lion’s den, but it had to be done. It had to be public. He had to rub it into Harry’s face.

You were waiting outside the portrait, fiddling with the sleeve of your button up shirt, your sweater and tie gone. There was nothing to pin you as a Gryffindor physically now, only your reputation that hovered with every step. The Fat Lady in the portrait was evidently not happy with him being there or your presence to meet him.

“Hello,” He gave an easy practiced smile. Your eyes flickered to his, a sadness in them that was covered with false light.

“Hey,” You offered. “How was your afternoon?”

“Fine,” Draco walked along side you as you made your way to the Great Hall. “Finished my homework for the night, spoke with Pansy.”

“She can’t be happy with this.” You motioned to the two of you, the sadness creeping back into your tone. “Harry certainly isn’t.”

“Pansy is indifferent I think,” Draco noted. “And I thought that was the point? To make Harry miserable?” A real smile played at his lips.

“Except he’s bent out on making me miserable now,” That was the source of your melancholy. “All of the Gryffindors are...” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Your discomfort didn’t sit right with Draco. Sure, he wanted Harry to be jealous, and he didn’t really care about what Gryffindors thought of him. But somehow it had turned back on you and now you were despondent. The rolls were wrong, Harry was supposed to be unhappy, not you. The only reason that it bothered Draco is because if you weren’t happy with how things were turning out you might back out too soon. It was the only obvious reason. He needed to think fast.

“Trust me?” He offered and you gaped at him like he had two heads.

And sure, it was an odd question to come from him, but if this were to work, you had trust him and the stupid plan he had to get Potter off your back and into his place. But despite that, you gave in and nodded. He reached for your hand, and after a moment of hesitancy, you intertwined your fingers with his.

The Great Hall went pin drop silent as you two entered. You held his hand a little tighter. Instinctively he gave your hand a small squeeze in reassurance. Draco led you to the end of the Slytherin table that was tucked in the corner near the hearth. It had been vacated by his fellow Slytherins and Pansy winked at him. The teachers even seemed at a loss for words as you sat beside him, yet dinner presumed as if the world hadn’t turned upside down.

“You don’t have to look so nervous,” Draco reassured you as the Great Hall fell back into the common buzz of conversation. “I’m not gonna bite,”

Your eyes wouldn’t stop darting around the Hall, tensed for the next bad thing to happen. Draco rolled his eyes knowing that this behavior wouldn’t convince anyone. So, he took your hand into his again and soothed you with the stroking of his thumb.

“Potter’s staring,” He murmured into your ear, leaning close. Your cheeks flushed at his close proximity. “Nervous around me, are we Y/n?” He teased lightly.

An annoyed smile rose on your lips as you scoffed, shoving him playfully. “You wish, Malfoy,” That was better.

“Why would I want my girlfriend to be nervous around me?” He raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously.

“Well, are you are so gosh darn pretty,” You batted your eyelashes at him before dissolving into laughter and his heart skipped a beat. Your laughter faded into a smile as you caught your lip between your teeth. His stare held yours for a bit too long and he found you blushing again and looking down.

You seemed more at ease at his side after that, even leaning into him after a while and striking up casual conversation. It was effortless to talk to you. You didn’t expect much in reply and you kept the topic moving from one thing to the next and he had no trouble keeping up. It was a small victory for him every time that he could make you laugh or blush, knowing the entire world was watching and Potter was growing greener as the minutes passed by.

Dinner had to end though. It was inevitable. You looked to him with wide innocent eyes, asking silently what to do next. He stood, taking your hand again as he led you through the halls. It was not lost on him that Harry and Hermione were following you two.

“It seems we have shadows,” You smiled up at him, referring to the two trailing Gryffindors.

“Seems we do,” He paused in the hall, “Wanna give them something to gawk at? I did take you to dinner,”

Your lips parted as you looked up at him doe eyed. For all of the times that you had worried your lip since this little game started left Draco wanting... He shook the thought. This was a game. Nothing more than that.

Draco’s hand came up and steadied your face softly as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. And holy Merlin did he fuck up.

____________________________________

I stared up at the drapery of my bed, tonight playing over and over in my head. Dinner. Draco. The kiss. The stupid godforsaken kiss.

I did not like Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy did not make me nervous.

Draco Malfoy does not give me butterflies.

Draco Malfoy did not make me smile to myself in the middle of the night.

It was a game. It was a game. It was fake. The pattering of my heart as he kissed me wasn’t real. My fingers grasping at his sweater was nothing more than a ruse. The softness of his lips on mine was a lie. The wonder and curiosity in his eyes when we parted was a scam. His gentle goodnight and lovely smile was a con.

My smile faded as a few tears slipped out. 

Draco Malfoy did not make me cry.

He did ask me to the Yule Ball, however. In front of Harry, and most of the student body in the courtyard. As soon as I accepted, he twirled me in his arms and set me down, placing another kiss to my lips.

He offered me his coat when the weather turned colder. He always carried my books. He walked me to every class with a soft kiss on my cheek. He held my hand. He studied with me and even helped me in Potions when I fell behind. He left notes on my desk and sent me a few during class. He made me smile. More than I had in a very long time. He made me... happy.

It was a trick.

It was a trick. It was a trick. It was a trick. It was a trick. It... It... 

It was a war within me

One part of me, the logical part knew that it was a game. A falsehood. To get back at Harry and watch him sulk in the halls as Draco and I went along together. It was a perfectly executed plan. Every touch was calculated, each kiss strategic, every laugh arranged. It was a stage performance between two actors who knew their roles brilliantly. A dance of deception and deviousness. And one part of me knew her position better than the stars.

And the other part of me believed the lie. And she was crying on the inside knowing it was nothing more than a tragedy. It didn’t stop her from hoping though. From twirling around in my room in my Yule Ball dress, imagining what it would be like to dance with Draco across the ballroom floor in my own fairytale. This part of me had a fair argument, however:

There had to be an explanation as to why Draco held my hand even when no one else was around. A reason to why he kissed me goodnight even though we were alone. A purpose to why without a second thought he hexed Harry when the golden boy tried to make a snide comment at me. Why he asked me if I was alright after he had found a quiet spot in the castle afterward. There had to be cause as to why there were no longer walls in his eyes, but warmth and comfort.

It was a game. And he was a Slytherin. 

Cunning, one part of me argued.

Loyal, the other part countered. 

But to you? The first part scoffed. 

I had no answer.

A few nights before the Yule Ball, a letter was delivered to my window by an owl. Inside was an invitation from Draco. He wanted me to meet him in the Astronomy Tower. Tugging on a house coat I crept out of the dorms and through the halls to the tower.

Anxiety ate me up inside, causing me to tremble. Maybe this was the end. This was the happily never after that I knew belonged to this story. I paused at the base of the stairs, wondering if I was ready to let Draco go. If I was ready to give up my fantasy. My heart screamed no, but my head told me it was for the best. I took the first step.

“Draco?” My voice was smaller than I felt in that moment.

This had to be goodbye. There was no other explanation. We had sealed our deal and carried out the terms and it was time to end our pact.

“You told me you loved the stars, their stories,” His voice was soft as he looked up at the inky sky. “The day this all started,”

“I remember,” I barely spoke the words, terrified. I didn’t dare take a step closer. I feared that a single wring move could shatter everything.

“A lot has changed since then,” His eyes still didn’t leave the stars. 

“I suppose,”

This time he did face me. There was regret and fear written in his features. And I wanted nothing more than to comfort him. To take away any reason that would make him feel that way. Until it dawned on me that I was that reason.

“Y/n,”

“Don’t,” I stopped him. “I know what you’re going to say,” I refused to look at him. “It’s okay, it’s better now than...”

“No, Y/n, wait,” He reached out for me.

“It’s enough, enough Draco?” Tears pricked my eyes. “I get it.”

“You really don’t,” He stressed, coming over to me. “Look, I fucked up,” I let out a pitiful laugh and shook my head.

“If either of us fucked up here it’s me. I... Draco... I... and you... and—”

And in the quiet of the night, with no one watching and no one to make jealous, Draco cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine urgently. I went wide eyed and pushed away. Now I was the one who was scared, trembling in his hold. Draco had the same uncertainty in his eyes as he stroked my cheek softly.

“I fucked up,” He whispered again. “I... I love you, Y/n,”

“No,” I was in disbelief. A worried smile played at his lips as he looked at me.

“I love you, don’t you hear me?” His face fell. “Did I get it wrong?” Hurt and fear coated his tone. “Do you not... did...” He took a deep tense breath. “Tell me you don’t love me too and I’ll never bother you again,” He sounded completely shattered. Someone had faltered in step.

So, if the rest of the world was going to hell in a handbasket, I might as well go with my lips pressed against his for even a moment.

Pressing up on my toes, my lips collided with his, sealing out fate. This time the urgency was not wasted. His hands pressed my body against his, and I knotted my fingers into his hair. This was my opportunity to finally kiss him the way I yearned to. Unapologetically, recklessly, and ridiculously in love with him.

I pulled away, realizing that I hadn’t actually said the words yet.

“I love you Draco Malfoy,” A grin curled on my lips. “Stupid Slytherin,” I chuckled.

“Ickle Gryffindor,” He mused, pressing a fleeting kiss to my lips. “My Y/n,”

And like the day I had accepted his invitation to go to the Yule Ball, he picked me up and spun me in his arms. I let out a carefree laugh and held him close.

“Y/n?” He called softly, drawing my attention. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Will you go out with me? Properly? No deal, no game. Will you be my actual girlfriend?”

I laughed. “Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Muzzling my nose to his I felt great comfort in his arms. The dreamer in me was ecstatic that she had been right, so much so that the skeptic had nothing to say.

“I love you,” He whispered softly. “I love the way you smile at me. I love the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous. I love the way you hold my hand like it’s a lifeline. I love the way you pass me notes in class. I love the way you make me smile. You make me happy,”

“You make me happy too,” Tears pricked my eyes for a different reason now. “You make me so happy. You make me feel safe and protected and cared for. How could I not love you?” I stroked his face softly. “I love that you hold my hand. And I love that you don’t have to fake a smile around me. I love that I’m allowed to see the real you,”

He drew me close into another hug, and we didn’t let each other go for quite some time. And like every other night, Draco walked me back to my portrait. He kissed me. He said goodnight, but this time he also said that he loved me.

The day of the Yule Ball came, and Draco and I had spent every moment that we could together the days prior. I didn’t see him that day, but I didn’t expect to. We both had a day of getting ready and spending time with our respective friends. All day I softly hummed melodies and danced to myself, expectant for tonight.

Just as I was about to head down to the Great Hall to meet Draco, Hermione rushed to me, looking unsettled and urgent.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you.” Hermione grabbed my arm pulling me aside. “Look, Viktor told me he overheard Pansy talking to some other Slytherins about you and Draco,”

“Okay?” I stared at her, waiting for the cause of her urgency, knowing that with each moment that passed Draco would worry a bit more.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, but... Draco’s going to break up with you tonight, in front of everyone...” She looked down, ashamed.

My heart fell as I took a step back.

“No... Draco. He... he loves me,” I refuted. “You’ve got it wrong,”

“Y/n,” She pleaded, reaching out for me. “It was all a game. He only dated you to make Harry jealous. Then he’s going to humiliate you tonight. It... it was nothing more than a joke,”

Tears pricked my eyes. “No,” I whispered again. “It changed. Things changed... he... he can’t.” 

“Y/n,”

“No,” I sniffled, crying. “You’ve got it wrong!” I refused to believe her words, the skeptic in me rearing her ugly head.

“I’m so sorry,” She sighed.

“I’ve... I’ve got to find him. There... there’s got to be some mistake,” I took off down the hall, ignoring as Hermione called out for me.

I nearly ran into Draco, knocking us both over in the feat. He laughed at my antics but became serious when he saw my distress.

“Y/n? Darling?” He helped me into a sitting position—admittedly on his lap—brushing a tear from me face carefully.

“You love me, yeah?” I quaked. “Tell me it’s not true...”

“What? What’s not true?” His tone became more imperative. “What happened?” 

“I trusted you!” I choked out, crying still.

“Y/n!?” He grabbed my shoulders with the utmost care. “What in Merlin’s name has got you so shaken!? Listen to me, I do love you, you know that.” There was no room for argument in his tone. “Whatever you heard, whatever’s got you so scared, it’s gonna be okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Drawing me into his arms, he held me tightly, rubbing my back softly.

“Hermione said she heard Pansy say you’re gonna... that you...” I sniffled, hyperventilating. “I told her she was wrong. You love me,” I clung to the notion desperately.

Draco cursed under his breath and sighed.

“This about me breaking up with you at the ball?” There was a faint hint of humor in his voice as he drew away enough so that I could face him.

My gaze fell and I nodded, trembling. “Don’t... please, Draco,”

“Hey,” He tilted my chin up. “That was before... before I fell for you. I’d never hurt you like that. Especially not on a night as special as this,”

I nodded, and dove back into his arms, trying to find a steadiness in my breathing. 

“If you’re really that worried, we won’t even go,” He murmured softly.

“What?” I squeaked out.

“Look if we don’t go, then there would be no reason for you to even think that I would do something like that. There would be no crowd, no rumors, just you and me. If you really want, we won’t go. We’ll hide in the Astronomy Tower all night. Just you and me,” The sincerity in his eyes almost made me cry once more.

This time I tackled him, beaming, and feeling secure in what I knew was true.

“And miss the chance to show you off and make every girl jealous?” I grinned, my smile warming to something softer. “Thank you, Draco. I’m... sorry I freaked out,”

“You trusted me enough to let me explain, that’s no reason to apologize,” He returned the warm smile. “You look absolutely gorgeous by the way,” He helped me up and off the ground.

“You’re quite dashing yourself Malfoy,” I smiled, fluffing out the skirt of my dress so that it fell properly. A quick cleaning spell and I felt as good as new, no breakdown evident on my face.

Draco and I entered the Great Hall and like before, the room went quiet upon our arrival. I glanced to Draco and he gave me an encouraging smile. With my hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, we descended the stairs. The music began again when we reached the bottom and Draco wasted no time in pulling me to the center of the dance floor as the waltz began.

“They’re all looking at us,” I whispered, my eyes focused on his steady grey ones as I worried my lip.

“Believe me they’re all looking at you,” There was a mischievous glint to his smile that eased my anxiety more than I’d have thought.

And when I was in Draco’s care as he led me across the dance floor, there really was nothing to be anxious about. I didn’t care about Pansy or Harry glaring at me the entire waltz. I didn’t care about the whispers spreading through the crowd. I didn’t care about the defeated and jealous sighs of onlookers.

No, instead I laughed and danced with remembered steps as the music swelled and crescendoed.

“Trust me?” Draco asked, and I laughed again, remembering the first time he ever asked me that.

Nodding, he changed the choreography slightly, and I let him lead me before his arms came and supported my waist and as I took the next step, he lifted me, to my delight and then through the next three count both of his hands were at my waist and I was ready as he lifted me again twirling me in the glittering golden lights before setting me down again. The waltz came to its end leaving Draco and I alone on the dance floor. I dipped into a curtsey and he bowed before the entire room erupted into applause.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to think that I’m leaving you now,” Draco murmured into my ear as the next song was softer, not quite a waltz but slow enough for us to stay pressed against another and sway softly.

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know you’re not leaving me,”

.

masterlist

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more like this:

gryffindor!reader series

ten things i hate about you

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[zedecksiew]

Kriegsmesser

When I received Kriegsmesser in the mail I finally googled "kriegsmesser", and found out it meant "war knife". Which makes sense; Gregor Vuga's ZineQuest 2021 project is a tribute to "roleplaying games named after medieval weapons".

I love Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay's piss-renaissance Old World setting. I tend to pick up WFRP-a-likes sight unseen:

Warlock (quality);

Small But Vicious Dog (yesss);

Zweihander (which I have come to hate); etc.

Anyway: I backed Kriegsmesser without really knowing anything about it. So Kriegsmesser surprised me.

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Kriegsmesser grew out of a Troika! cutting. Its 36 backgrounds are compatible with that system: each come with a couple of lines of description; a list of skills and possessions; an a visual cameo cropped from actual 16th-Century woodcut art.

Cohesive and competently flavourful. My favourite is the Labourer, who always starts with "an empty pine box":

"You've spent your life breaking your back, working hard for other people's profit. You have nothing to show for it but a spectre of the future."

(The obligatory ratcatcher-analogue , called the Vermin Snatcher, is here -- check that box!)

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Kriegsmesser also comes with its own ruleset. Hits all the notes it needs to, with lots of orientation and advice for how to run a game -- but ultimately super-simple, mechanically:

Roll d6s equal to the value in a relevant skill, look at the highest result. 6 means you get what you want; 5 or 4 means you get what you want, at a cost.

It's not quite a dice pool, since only the highest result matters. No opposed tests.

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Kriegsmesser intends to have this base mechanic handle fights, too. The combat rules - with armour, toughness and weapon values -- are nested in an optional section.

For a WFRP-a-like, this feels like a purposeful departure.

Many of WFRP's most celebrated adventures are celebrated for bits that their underlying ruleset does little to support: the investigative structure of "Shadows Over Bogenhafen"; the complicated timetable of "Rough Night At Three Feathers".

Ludwig von Wittgenstein never needed a statblock to be memorable.

Not to say that lethal, hyper-detailed fights isn't super Warhammer-y. (Kriegsmesser includes an injury table, broken down by body-part -- check that box!)

But here it feels like Gregor is saying: "I'm not Games Workshop and Roleplay isn't an ancillary of Warhammer Fantasy Battle; we can evoke grim-and-perilous-ness even if we fork away from heavy combat rules."

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It has become ritual for me to read my partner Sharon to sleep.

Sometimes I read her RPG things. The other night, after I read her Kriegsmesser's introduction --

" The Empire wages an eternal war against Chaos. Its priests preach of Chaos as an intrusion, something unnatural ... These men see Chaos in anything that does not buttress their rule. They call it disorder, anarchy, corruption. They say that to rebel against their order is to rebel against god and nature. That the current arrangement is natural, rather than artificial.

" Meanwhile, the common people look to the Empire to deliver the justice that they were promised and they find none. They look to the Empire and do not see themselves reflected in it. They look around at what they were taught was right and good and see only misery.

" Their world begins to unravel. Chaos comes to reside in every heart and mind sound enough to look at the world and conclude it is broken. "

-- Sharon remarked: "Nice one."

The RPG things I read her generally leave Sharon lukewarm. She has enjoyed a couple -- but, yeah: for many of these books, text isn't their strong point.

Kriegsmesser is the only time I can recall Sharon praising the writing of an RPG book without my prompting.

Nice one.

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That introduction surprised me. It underlines Kriegsmesser's biggest departure from its WFRP-a-like pedigree: how it characterises Chaos.

Corruption, a mainstay of most grim-dark-y games, is made an optional rule, like combat. Explaining this, Gregor writes:

" Kriegsmesser partially subverts or deconstructs the traditional conceit of Warhammer where the characters are threatened by the forces of Chaos. In this game it is the player characters who are the agents of 'Chaos': they are likely to become the 'rats' under the streets, and the wild 'beast-men' in the woods bringing civilisation down. It's the Empire and its nobles and priests that are corrupt ... "

Describing the Empire, Gregor writes:

" The Empire encompasses the world yet is terrified of the without. It enforces itself with steel and fire yet considers itself benevolent. It consumes the labour of others with bottomless hunger yet calls its subalterns lazy, or wasteful, or greedy. "

Holy shit this is the first time I've seen the word "subaltern" in an RPG thing, I think?

I love this.

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Rant incoming:

With every passing decade Warhammer abridges its Moorcockian roots more and more; nowadays it is "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", pretty much.

Gone are the days when chaos berserkers are implied to grant safe passage to the helpless (because Khorne is as much a god of martial honour as he is a god of bloodletting); Or that the succor of Papa Nurgle is a genuine comfort to the downtrodden; Or that Tzeentch could unironically embody the principle of hope, of change for the better.

As Chaos is distilled into unequivocal villainy, Order goons get painted as Good Guys by default --

Giving rise to Warhammer's contemporary problem, wherein fans are no longer able to recognise satire.

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When I was introduced to 40K, it seemed pretty clear that the Imperium was a Brazil-esque absurdist-fascist bureaucratic state: planets are exterminatus-ed due to clerical error; the way it stamps out rebellions is the reason why rebellions begin in the first place.

Tragi-comic grimdarkness. That was the point.

Nowadays that tone has shifted -- and you're more likely than not going to encounter a 40K fan who argues that the Imperium's evils are a justified necessity, to prevent worse wrongs.

We went from:

"Space Nazis because insane dumbass fuckery, also chainswords vroom vroom rule of badass!"

To:

"Space Nazis because it makes sense actually, and also chainswords make sense because [insert convoluted rationalisation here]."

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Even Fantasy Flight's Black Crusade line, which ostensibly offers a look at 40K from the perspective of Chaos, never truly commits to its conceit.

With prep you could play a heroic band of mutant freedom fighters, resisting the tyranny of the Evil Imperium --

But I don't remember Black Crusade giving that kind of campaign any actual support. Its supplements service the relatively more conventional "You can play villains!" angle; the Screaming Vortex is a squarely Daemons-vs-Daemons setting.

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This tonal drift culminates, in my mind, with Age of Sigmar, Games Workshop's heroic-fantasy replacement of the old WFRP / WHFB setting.

Here's the framing narrative for AoS's recently-launched Third Edition. Let's see whether I've got things right:

A highly professionalised, technologically-superior tip-of-the-spear fighting force (the Stormcast Eternals);

Backed by an imperialist military-industrial complex (Azyrheim);

"Liberating" rich new territories (Ghur) for exploitation by a civilised settler culture (Settlers of Sig-- I mean, Free Cities);

Justified because the locals are irredeemable heathens (Chaos and Kruleboyz).

I mean, that's a sweet-ass Warhammer setting. It's contemporary, laser-guided lampoon. Except it is played totally straight.

In AoS, a literal crusade is justified as the moral good.

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I think Kriegsmesser surprised me because its framing of Chaos -- as a promise, as the light of hope shining through cracks of a broken world --

It feels so fucking right.

Yes: its a subaltern deconstruction of the conventional moral universe of Warhammer -- but it is a take that is also already implied / all but supported in the various depictions of the setting: from WFRP to the modified title-crawl of Black Crusade.

I'm annoyed I didn't think of it, myself. Damn you, Gregor!

And I'm annoyed that more Warhammer fans aren't thinking it, also.

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lmagine if Kriegsmesser's perspective stood on equal standing as the GW orthodoxy. Imagine if, instead of simplifying stuff into "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", GW did a Gregor Vuga.

You'd have a Rashomon-ed Warhammer, where villainy depends on perspective:

You are fearful villagers, huddled around your priest, muttering prayers against the wild braying coming from the trees beyond your gates.

You are Aqshyian tribeswomen, defying the thunder warrior towering over you, the foreigner demanding you bow to his foreign god.

You are a Tzeentchian revolutionary cell, desperately trying to disrupt a Inquisitor's transmissions so your home planet isn't destroyed by fascist orbital fire.

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Get Kriegsmesser HERE.

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( Image sources: https://theenemywithinremixed.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/thoughts-on-the-4e-death-on-the-reik/ https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/59-brazil https://www.deviantart.com/faroldjo/art/Warhammer-40k-Black-Crusade-273596035 https://www.warhammer-community.com/2021/06/09/fancy-a-new-life-bringing-order-to-the-mortal-realms-join-a-dawnbringer-crusade-today/ https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/team-america-15-anniversary-south-park-2558750 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palestinian_children_and_Israeli_wall.jpg )

#reviews #kriegsmesser #gregor vuga #warhammer #writing #rants #overthinking #rpgs #wfrp

[downywrites]

I feel bad for my radio silence, so please have the draft lol

Skeppy finds that there is a way to tame beasts without ever drawing his sword.

Skeppy was not fond of the nether. It was hot. It was humid and dry, all in the wrong places. The piglins were rude to him, the hoglins were wild and liked to cause him all kinds of trouble, and the netherrack burned his skin whenever he touched it. He had no kind of interest in the area, he really didn’t.

And yet, he found himself floundering in the vastness of the nearest nether fortress. The almost-black bricks were refreshingly cold under his hands, a breath of fresh air within the stuffy stratosphere of the nether. He glanced bemusedly at his compass, the usually faithful tool rendered completely useless by the biome. “Prime, where the hell is the exit of this damn place?” The sounds of zombie piglins groaning in the background echoed through the halls, making him shiver. “Ugh, just get me out of here already…” The diamond-encrusted hybrid’s feet made slight screeching noises as he scrabbled for a good grip on the tile. He tried his best to ignore them. “Come on, come on…” As he weaved through familiar hallways and rooms, his impatience bubbled at the top of his throat, begging to be let out. His tail lashed impatiently as he walked. After a few more minutes of searching, he threw his hands up in the air in annoyance, making a few confused piglins grunt and turn to look at each other. “Are you serious? Just get me out of here, Primedamnit!”

He growled under his breath, exposing a few filed down teeth as he did. In the back of his mind, he hoped he didn’t make the piglins angry. Slamming his eyes shut, he tuned into the air around him, trying to sense any sort of familiar substances around him. ‘If I can’t get out of here, at the very least, I’m taking some loot with me.” The vibrations of gold armor around him squealed loudly, but he ignored it for the sake of finding some diamonds or some larger portions of treasure. The heat of the fortress pressed down on the hybrid. “Is there anything nearby, or did I get into this mess for literally nothing?” Opening his eyes to glare at the piglins, he scowled at the floor he walked on, stomping wildly like a child having a tantrum. As he walked, he continued to tune in, clinging onto the idea he had in mind. ‘If there is nothing in the whole of this place, I might as well just go and troll someone by telling them to come to these coordinates.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘That would be funny to see.’ Before he could continue on his train of thought, a large ping made him gasp. Blueberry colored eyes widened at the sheer mass of diamonds and gold directly below him. “Holy shit!” Kneeling down to touch the floor, the vibrations of the valuables had him shaking with excitement. “Jackpot!” He ruffled through his bag, careful not to drop anything as he did so. He wasn’t one to leave anything around, not when there are piglins nearby. Within moments, he had made a hole in the floor, the small area inside dark and black as pitch. “Well, here goes nothing.”

He sincerely regretted the way he entered the cave or riches. Like the intelligent, mature human being he was, he had left his bag just barely out of reach, his pickaxe inside of it. And, in a similarly benevolent and logical fashion, Skeppy had immediately tried to escape the hole with his entire torso already in it to grab the item. Ironically enough, the world had it out for him. Why? He certainly didn’t know. But whatever karmic god he had pissed off was really, really mad at him that day. Because when he reached out to grab it, the whole of the ceiling crumbled, taking him down with it. In short, he was not having a good day. A small sigh escaped his lips, rubbing his head from where he had smacked it on the floor a little. “Ow. Jeez, why does everything hate me so much?” The whining noise of gold and the gentle pinging of diamonds surrounded him. His eyes gazed upwards at the small cascade of light above him from his endeavor. “Fuck, how am I supposed to get back up?” His eyes darted over the shadows of riches untold, drinking in the glitter of blue and yellow in the soft, barely visible light. “Hmph.” Crossing his arms and pouting, he rested against a firm chunk of nether brick, gold clinking around him as he did. “Guess I’ll just rest for a bit. It’s not like some fuck’s gonna get me here.” As if the gods themselves had it out for him one last time, the sound of valuables clinking to the floor startled him back to his feet. Legs wobbling from the effort and the sheer waves of fear he felt rippling through his body, he got into the best fighting stance he could and turned to face the source of the noise. The shimmering lights shifted in from of him, like a tide of danger forming to wash him and his ignorance away. Once again, the back of his mind informed him that perhaps he should have listened to the others when they said not to try anything stupid. ‘Then again, who would I be if I didn’t do anything stupid? Isn’t that my defining characteristic?’

That was the defining thought in the front of his mind when the shadow growled, white eyes slowing and casting a beam of light directly at his trembling form. Not exactly the best way to start off a fight, he would say. His knuckles gleamed back at the creature, sending light bouncing off of its scales. It snarled, a loud, guttural noise that threatened to take him down without a single point of contact with the beast. “W-would you believe me if I said that I didn’t mean to come down here?” Heated breath, even warmer than the outside air in the nether’s outdoors, buffeted his face and forced him to dig into the ground as much as he could just to stay standing. The shape shifted into the light, glimmering scales morphing into an identifiable (and distinctly terrifying) muzzle shape above him. Little diamonds skittered on the floor as it moved. Tiny little pinpricks of glitter and noise danced in his eardrums through the cacophony of screeching rocks and piglin shrieks and the musty, dank breath of death looking above him. Eyes struggling to focus on the the looming shadow that was beginning to block out the little light he had, he yelled up to the creature in panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t fucking kill m-” An even louder growl hummed through the air. It opened its maw, nether vines and natural substances writhing like snakes on its face and horns. “Language.” If this were any other situation, Skeppy would have laughed. ‘It languaged me? A gigantic nether mob that is trying to kill me LANGUAGED ME?’ Unfortunately for him, he had no time to laugh as a large claw came down, large sinewy fingers extended outwards toward him. With a rather unmanly shriek, he vaulted himself onto a mountain of gold coins, running up it as well as he could. He spluttered as a few coins somehow found their way into his mouth, metallic taste staying in his mouth for several moments longer that they should have. All the while, the claws reaching out for him continued to swipe at his form. The wind from its movements blew into his face, causing him to take a step back. “Woah, woah- AGH!” The foothold below him shifted like dunes in the desert. With a small exclamation, he fell onto his butt, eyes wide with fear. A beam of light fell upon his form, a low, guttural growl singing through the air. “You have trespassed. And you broke my ceiling. You will pay.” Its low voice reginited the pit of fear that was currently planting its roots into his stomach. He scuttled back, shaking his head no. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, p-promise!”

A large claw encapsulated him, tight and rough around him. The diamond hybrid scrabbled and squirmed in his grip, spouting fear-fueled insults and small, very fake reasons for breaking and entering, literally. A single squeeze to his midsection made his voice freeze and choke up in his throat. “Silence.” A white-eyes glare sent him reeling. ‘Too bright!’ “You have caused me problems.” Another squeeze made the bright light look like a vignette for a moment. Unable to speak, he scrabbled even more at the scales on the claw that held him, trying to find a soft spot to prod. A snarl rippled through the air, the vines on its muzzle swaying from side to side dangerously. “You will pay for your crimes-” A small, almost comically high-pitched yelp escaped the dragon-like creature. The grasp on his torso lessened. With it, came extra clarity on what he was doing exactly. There, right at the smallest spot where the underside of its wrist and lower palm melded into one, was a barely noticeable irregularity. Without knowing it, Skeppy had scribbled his nails over it. He raised a single eyebrow, unable to censor the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re..ticklish? I big, strong creature of the nether.. Is ticklish?”

A series of sputtered, rumbling words didn’t help the creature’s case. “No, that’s not.. No. It’s not that, it’s sensitive. I swear on the bastions, do not- ACK!” Skeppy dug his nails back into the spot, giggling at the noise he got in return. “Aha, take that!” A frustrated, chuckly laugh made his very bones vibrate. “You know what, forget it. I’m going to put you down, and you...leave. Just leave. Do not mess with me anymore, got it?” He nodded in agreement. ‘I am so not going to let this slide. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? I die?’ The air wooshed around him, the only indication that he was moving downwards beside the glaring beams of light flicking around the area. As his feet touched the ground, he squirmed out of its grasp impatiently. “I can get down by myself, thank you. And,” he pointed up at the creature with a grin, “I’d like to see your face. Do you have a human form or something? And like, a light? I promise I won’t take any of your stuff for myself if you do.” The sound of scales scraping against metal made him wince. “Are you really making a demand out of me? Badboyhalo, the great demon of the Nether?” He sharply retorted, “Well, I can certainly say I have something, saying that I have blackmail on you right now! How would everyone react to word that you are ticklish?”

A sigh, much smaller than the other vocalizations from the beast, echoed through the room. “Fine, then.” Skeppy craned his neck to look at the shadowy shape, desire to watch the beast transform outweighing he dangers of doing so. However, all too soon, it was over. It didn’t take long for a shape to climb out of the scales they had shed, shaking off a few pieces of extra skin and ragged things he wasn’t quite able to make out. With a stretch of their back, a pair of wings, ragged and sharp in all the right places, flapped outwards from behind him. As they came closer, it was more and more obvious that the person was not human. From the red-tipped horns pointing upwards from their head, to the obviously inhuman pair of bat-demonic wings, all the way down to their lower back, which sported an appendage that was reminiscent of one of his friend’s old card decks full of angels and hell-demons of long ago. The flat, spade like appendage sported the same color scheme as their horns, pitch at the base and a shade of maroon crimson, quite like blood, at the tip. It gave their body a form that certainly reminded him of the towering creature that loomed above him minutes before. Their white, glowing eyes had not changed either.

They stopped a few feet away from him.

“Happy now?” Skeppy hesitated for a moment, confused, before remembering it was just him in the room. “Ah, sorry, you look really...cool! And yeah, it’s all good. Thanks for not, clobbering me, I guess?’ Looking straight into the demon’s eyes, he learned, was a bit of a challenge. They were double his height, and certainly didn’t look like they cared much about changing it. They scoffed, but it didn’t seem to be an insult, more of a normal, reflexive reaction. “It’s fine. Are you going to go now?” Skeppy pondered that for a moment. “Perhaps, but...I wanted to know something- no, two things.” They leaned in closer, eyes narrowing in a look unrecognizable to him. Perhaps irritation? “First thing, what’s your gender and your name? And second…” He looked at him dead in the eyes, gaze unwavering, even though the glare that seemed to burn in his retinas tingled a bit on his face. “Do you get a lot of affection, as the ‘great demon of the nether’?” Putting air quotes around the title made the demon look the slightest bit annoyed at the gem, but he didn’t care much at all about it. “I am male. And my name's Badboyhalo, if you didn’t hear earlier.” He balked slightly at the last question. “Affection...What do you mean by that?”

A small gasp of shock ripped from his throat, but he tried to play it off with a cough. A questioning eyebrow dispelled that idea quickly. “Is it something rude? Did I say something wrong?” Badboyhalo growled lowly. “If you made me say something bad, I will not hesitate to send you back where you came from with a tapestry shredded on your back.” The gem hybrid winced at the imagery that flashed to mind. He flailed his arms a little, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no! I’m just a little…worried for you, is all.” A scoff. “Worried? For me? And not for you? You have a lot of nerves for a strider-rider.”

#Lee!bad #Ler!skeppy #Dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #tickle fic #sort of there’s not that much tickling rn lol #I’ll connect the queue thing once I update this #Downywrites #Downy writes

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1 

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.  Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize”  you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. 

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness. 

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. 

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat. 

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin 

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter​ @this-is-serenaa​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @perplexed3001​ @twittytelly​ @kelbabyblue​ @maan24​

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

#halloween challenge #j's haunted house 2020 #jshauntedhouse2020 #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out #knives out fanfic

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

and the void looked back to say i love you (Part 6)

A/N: welcome to the last part of this fic!! I may one day revisit this osmp au, but for now this part of their story is over. see you in the reblogs!!

Warnings: anxious thoughts, kidnapping, violence, unwanted flirting, death of insignificant characters, eldritch horror elements (this time it’s more legit, kristin goes off but there are also the strangely wholesome void lady moments as well), bickering, teasing/banter 

Masterpost

-

It was hard to tell the passage of time in the void. But Kristin knew the time to visit the Overworld was fast approaching, and she flowed anxiously through her domain, formless. The void was clinging but comforting, and part of Kristin wondered why she even wanted to leave such a place. The void, her domain, her home- could she just leave it, even for a day?

The answer came in the form of a crow, looking rather ruffled and cawing in distress. Kristin took form immediately, her smaller “Phil-sized” one, dark wings flaring and wrenching herself up and out of the void’s grip. She held her hands out so the crow could have a place to perch, but the bird didn’t land- instead circling her head and cawing insistently. She peered over to the entrance, trying to see if Phil could explain what got one of his crows so riled up- only to see no one there. Kristin got a sinking feeling in her stomach- it wasn’t like the crows to be without Phil.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Phil?” Kristin asked, head turning to try and follow the bird’s panicked flight. The crow let out a warbling, mournful cry. Kristin couldn’t understand what it was saying, but she knew now that without a doubt, something was wrong… and something had likely happened to Phil. The crow swooped down and grabbed a lock of her hair in its beak, trying to pull Kristin to the tunnel entrance- not that she needed much convincing to leave now. She flew up to the entrance, grabbing the edge and pausing only for a moment before hoisting herself out. Her domain tried to follow after her with inky tendrils, causing the crow to squawk in panic. Kristin stood at the tunnel’s edge, a little unused to feeling something solid beneath her, and looked to her domain with a soft smile.

“Stay here, I will call on you if I need you. I won’t be gone forever,” she soothed the void, letting a tendril curl around her wrist. It didn’t speak, per se, but she could sense the feelings of concern and care it sent out, wishing her well before the tendril uncurled and sank back down into her domain below. She gazed at her domain for a few moments, before the crow cawed insistently, swooping down to pull at Kristin’s hair again.

“I know, I know. Let’s go,” Kristin said, turning her back on the void and making her way up through the tunnel. Torches lighted her path up to the Overworld, until she saw moonlight peeking through twisted tree roots. The crow flew ahead of her, cawing even more persistently now that it was outside. Kristin made her way out past the tree roots, momentarily distracted by the grass beneath her feet and the reflection of the moon in the lagoon before her. She turned to look at the lightning-scarred tree behind her, a house up in its gnarled branches. She looked back to the lagoon, and noticed a little shack diagonally across from the tree on the other side of the water. Then past the shack, she saw them. A caravan of sorts, with a chain of carts and people shouting. The crow flew towards the caravan, hovering in midair to look back at Kristin. With a determined nod, she followed the crow.

They made their way through a spruce forest on one side of the shack, the trees giving them cover. The crow perched in a tree on the outskirts of the small forest, and Kristin hid behind the tree, watching the caravan with a horror-stricken expression. A group of people she didn’t recognize were herding a menagerie of hybrids- a few hybrids that Kristin recognized, a few she didn’t. Among the ones she didn’t recognize were a slime hybrid, a fox hybrid, a boy seemingly made of stars, and a small man perched on the shoulder of the star boy, all inside one of the carts of the caravan. Another cart had a tank filled with water, and Kristin watched as a girl with axolotl-like features was unceremoniously dumped into the tank. Two more men were trying to corral a blaze hybrid, a bee hybrid, and an enderman hybrid into another cart- and Kristin’s heart dropped at the last group of hybrids. The ones she recognized. Tommy was trapped in a net, being dragged towards another cart as Wilbur struggled against the hold of two men on either side of him.

“Stay put, phantom. Or the birdie here gets it,” one of the men said, flicking out a knife and holding it to the throat of the last figure Kristin recognized- Phil. His wings and arms were bound to his body with some sort of netting, and two men were holding onto his shoulders- one of them doing it one-handed to hold the knife to his neck. Wilbur’s eyes flashed green, but he stopped fighting against the men holding him back.

“Hey! Be careful with that one, he’s an elytrian. Haven’t seen many of those in years,” one man, possibly the leader of the group, said with a cruel grin.

“Only because hunters like you hunted my people down!” Phil said viciously, straining against his bonds and the men holding him back. The man only grinned.

“Oh I know. That’s why when I heard rumors of a winged man around this place you call Ringlake, I had to see for myself. And not only have I caught myself an elytrian, but a jackpot of other hybrids. Guess I have you to thank,” he said, and Phil’s expression dropped, face going pale. Anger boiled in Kristin’s veins, and she started to move from her hiding place- until a ruckus of commotion stopped her.

“One of the fucking hybrids is loose!” one of the hunters cried. Kristin watched from her place in the shadows to see Wilbur, free of the men that were holding him and eyes glowing a vibrant green. He shoved one hunter away from Tommy, who was still trapped in a net. The hunters that were holding him before lunged at Wilbur, but he winked out of existence before they could reach him, causing them both to tumble face-first into the dirt. He shimmered back into existence with a smug grin, which quickly turned to a determined frown when the hunter he had shoved before scrambled back to his feet, sword drawn. He grabbed a sword from one of the hunters lying face-first in the dirt, taking a protective stance in front of Tommy. The hunter ran at Wilbur, their blades clashing as Wilbur managed to hold him off. The swords strained against each other as the hunter tried to push Wilbur back, but he merely turned invisible again, causing the hunter to stumble forward. Wilbur appeared behind him, slashing at the hunter a few times before going invisible once more, the hunter swinging his sword in a wide arc out of frustration. Wilbur came at him again from out of nowhere, but this time the hunter managed to shove him onto his back, pressing a boot to his chest and holding him down as he raised his sword again.

“No!” Kristin cried, running out into the open, unable to stay hidden any longer. Everyone froze, gazes snapping to her. A curious and intrigued expression came over the lead hunter’s face, before a grin took its place.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here?” he asked, voice sleazy and making Kristin bristle in discomfort. Phil snarled at the man, trying to lurch forward against the two hunters holding him back. Kristin smiled fondly at Phil’s protectiveness- it was sweet, but not needed. The smile turned sinister as she looked to the first hunter, pleased to see him pale a few shades underneath her gaze. She unfurled her dark wings, and mentally reached out to her domain far below. The temperature dropped suddenly, and inky blackness rose from the thin ravine that gave Ringlake its name.

“You will die first,” she said simply, her voice echoing with raw power. The lead hunter tried to scramble backwards, but she hardly gave him a chance to scream before a tendril of the void lashed out, grabbing him and pulling him down, down, down into her domain below. The hunter pinning Wilbur down was next, and she relished in his scream as a sickening crunch was heard when a tendril grabbed him. One of the hunters holding Phil was smart, choosing to try and run away- but he wouldn’t escape. A tendril grabbed him and pulled him down to the depths of the void, while the one who foolishly held onto Phil with his knife still drawn was plucked up and thrown far away, Kristin not bothering to look where his body landed. The rest of the hunters surrounding the other hybrids were plucked off one by one, either dragged down or thrown far from Ringlake. She didn’t care if the ones thrown survived or not- if they did, they could spread the message that Ringlake was not to be touched. The lake and the people who lived in and around it were her domain, just as much as the void was.

“Kristin?” a voice asked, tone soft and edging on mildly terrified. Kristin blinked, letting the void sink back down to her domain as she turned to face the source of the voice- Phil. A mix of awe and terror was clear in his expression, and a few final flares of anger shot through Kristin as she saw the way he was still bound by the netting, feathers rumpled and sticking at odd angles through the net. She should have made those hunters suffer more for even touching Phil and the rest of her family- but all was said and done, at least they were safe now. She called upon the void one last time to reach out and slash through the netting. Phil stumbled to one side in surprise once he was free, watching the tendril of the void sink back into the thin ravine.

“Are you alright?” Kristin asked, stepping forward and reaching out towards Phil a bit timidly. There was no denying the stillness and silence that hung in the air, and Kristin wasn’t sure how to feel about it. They were safe now, couldn’t they see that? Kristin’s worries were soothed when Phil rushed forward into her arms, holding her tight. Kristin all but melted in relief, one hand going to comb through his ruffled feathers and unable to hold back the smile at the relieved coo she got in response.

“I’m alright now, thanks to you,” Phil said softly. He pulled away but didn’t go too far, linking arms with her as the two of them turned to the rest of the hybrids. Wilbur had helped Tommy out of the net, while the blaze, enderman, and bee hybrids helped the axolotl girl out of the tank. The bee and enderman hybrid looked closer to Tommy’s age, while the blaze hybrid and axolotl girl looked a little closer to Wilbur’s age. The star boy, who was helping the slime hybrid, fox hybrid, and the small man out of the barred cart with a blast of starlight, looked around Wilbur’s age as well. She couldn’t quite figure out the other hybrids, all of them physically being much smaller than the rest of the kids, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were younger. She locked gazes with the star boy, who looked curious instead of terrified, unlike the three hybrids clustered around him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“That’s my mum!” Wilbur piped up, before Kristin had a chance to respond. Kristin chuckled fondly at the resulting bewildered expressions of the group.

“You can call me Kristin. I’m the Queen of the Void,” she clarified.

“I’m Scott, a starborne. Thank you for saving us- me, Fundy, Charlie, and Sneeg have been held captive by those hunters for a while now,” Scott said, gesturing first to himself, then the fox hybrid, then the slime hybrid, and then the small man on his shoulder as he listed off names.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t have done your starbolt thing sooner,” grumped the fox hybrid, Fundy. Scott frowned at his shorter companion.

“Well then the hunters would have shot me and made me go supernova, taking you guys with me,” Scott reprimanded. Fundy muttered something incomprehensible, but shrugged in defeat. Scott gave a smug grin in response, and Sneeg jumped down from Scott’s shoulder to continue heckling Fundy along with Charlie. Kristin couldn’t help but smile fondly at the display, already hoping that the group of hybrids would stick around Ringlake.

“Are we not gonna talk about how when Philza looked into the void and the void looked back, he decided to marry her?” the bee hybrid piped up. The enderman hybrid smacked him on the arm, while the blaze hybrid shook his head and the axolotl girl giggled.

“Tubbo,” Phil said reproachfully.

“He is surprisingly correct,” Kristin said with a shrug.

“The first person who looked back at me when I looked at them was Ranboo! Does that mean I get to marry him?” Tubbo asked, looking to the enderman hybrid beside him.

“Mate, you’re a little young to-”

“You can’t marry Ranboo, you’re my best friend!” Tommy said incredulously, interrupting Phil.

“Ranboo being my husband doesn’t make us not best friends!” Tubbo retorted, crossing his arms and hovering above Tommy. Ranboo just stood behind them, gaze flicking between the two boys with blatant confusion.

“Boys, you can marry whoever you’d like when you’re older,” Phil said, trying his best not to laugh.

“I’m okay to wait to marry Tubbo,” Ranboo replied with a shrug. Tubbo cheered, and Tommy instantly began whining about losing his best friend to a “fuckin’ enderman.” Kristin shook her head, and looked to the blaze hybrid and the axolotl girl- who had jumped into a nearby pond during Tubbo and Tommy’s bickering.

“You two must be Jack and Niki,” Kristin said, remembering the names Tommy had mentioned the other day. Niki popped her head up from the pond, nodding excitedly.

“Ayup, void lady,” Jack said with a wave.

“Thank you for saving us!” Niki exclaimed, tail splashing excitedly behind her.

“Of course! One of Phil’s crows came to me in distress, I had to come up here and save my family,” Kristin said firmly.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Wil and Tommy are lucky to have a mum like you,” Niki said with a grin. Kristin blinked in mild confusion.

“I was including you, Jack, Ranboo, and Tubbo in my definition of ‘family.’ And if Scott and the others want to stick around, they’re more than welcome to be family too,” Kristin said, voice sweet but also leaving little to no room for argument. The group of hybrids- minus Wilbur, Tommy, and Phil- all took on various expressions of surprise and confusion.

“Kristin, I think we need to talk about adopting people we just met,” Phil whispered, amusement clear in his tone.

“You still haven’t given me a good reason as to why not!” Kristin teased back with a grin. Phil laughed, shaking his head.

“I mean, if you guys are alright with it, I’d like to stick around here. I don’t exactly have a home anymore, I was taken by hunters not long after my meteor crashed around here,” Scott said, casting a sad glance to the stars before looking back to Kristin and Phil with a shy grin.

“What is it you said before, Phil? We don’t really adopt people, they just sort of find us?” Kristin said with a smug grin. Phil sighed, but couldn’t hide the fond grin on his face.

“I think that means you guys can stay,” Wilbur said with a laugh. Scott cheered, and immediately began chatting with Fundy, Charlie, and Sneeg about where they could build their homes. Niki and Wilbur joined in on the conversation as well, offering space around the lagoon. Jack, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo started talking about a potential place where every hybrid could gather together, no matter their advantages or disadvantages. And as Kristin watched the group fondly with Phil, she realized something about the people around her. It made sense- Kristin was the void, meant to pull people in. But instead, Kristin had pulled together a family.

-

End Note: credit to zapekan6000 on twitter for inspiring the wilbur vs hunter fight scene! link to their animatic here

MCYT Taglist (I’m thinking about making this my general tag list for mcyt fics, but i also know that people on this list just wanted to be tagged in this fic. please let me know if you want to be added/removed, otherwise I will just keep the same people on this): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

#osmp #osmp fic #philza #mumza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #niki niachu #jack manifold #scott smajor #charlie slimecicle #fundy #sneegsnag #osmp philza #void!kristin #osmp wilbur #osmp tommy #osmp tubbo #osmp ranboo #osmp niki #osmp jack #osmp scott #osmp charlie #osmp fundy #osmp sneeg #mcyt #fluff #hurt/comfort #sage writes

[willowbird]

For the prompt thing: Andrew/Neil, trope: sickness/injury, location: violently orange yacht. Have fun! Thanks =)

Ooh definitely!

Since no AU was specified I made it kinda intentionally ambiguous.

Also, so you know, I 100% sat down to write this as a cutesy seasick/comfort w/teasing sorta fic. Then, idk, i got a lil bloodthirsty. Just a little bit, though.

Warning for mentions of blood.

---

"Are you really going to hide down here for the whole time?" Kevin's voice was both tired and annoyed, and just for that Andrew didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence, let alone his words.

Instead, he pointedly turned the page in his book as if there was no one about to bother him at all. They had been out on the water for a whole six hours. Andrew had watched the shoreline get smaller and smaller as they pulled away and when it was just a fine sketch of a line along the horizon he'd gone investigating. Which was how he'd found this hidden little nook in the storage hull or whatever the big room of supplies was in the belly of the boat.

The monstrosity was technically a yacht. Which, by definition, is a pleasure liner - a boat intended for entertainment. This "yacht" was big enough to not only carry but fully house and supply a contingent of college athletes. It was suspiciously fortified and had enough supplies stockpiled away that Andrew was beginning to wonder if he hadn't been kidnapped because it seemed just a little bit excessive for a "weekend away".

Personally, he didn't think his problems were going to go away or even be at all eased by an attempted escape via ugly boat. But he wasn't the only one with those problems. He wasn't the only one hurting. And after almost a year... well, he would grudgingly tag along, but he didn't have to participate.

The damn thing was also the most grotesque shade of claw-your-eyes-out dayglow orange that Andrew had ever seen. Which honestly was one of the reasons he'd already gone inside, as of by hiding in the deepest, darkest corner of the vessel he'd save himself a migraine.

"And Andrew? The Lady Fox has luxury suites for each of us. You can't even hide in your room? You choose to come... here?" Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Kevin give his choice of hideaways a disparaging look.

Without taking his eyes from the page, Andrew lifted one hand and offered Kevin his one-fingered opinion.

The next thing he heard was Kevin's annoyed scoff, followed by his retreating footsteps. Satisfied, Andrew snuggled down a little bit deeper into the conveniently-placed hammock he'd found already strung up when he initially explored the place. The book he was reading had a bit of a slow start, but at least three of the side-characters were interesting enough to carry him through until the plot picked up.

Except, he only got two more pages along when he heard a sudden and quite ominous thump that was accompanied by a muffled groan. The book in his hand was instantly replaced with one of the knives he kept tucked in the armbands he was never without. Some people might call Andrew paranoid for bringing weapons onto a boat where he was surrounded only by close friends and family, with a literal ocean between them and harm. Those people would probably be dead right now, gutted in their sleep by a murderous stowaway. Or maybe that thump was one of his family, being murdered by the murderous stowaway.

Maybe it was Kevin.

That thought put a spike of fear in his heart, but right in its wake came a surge of deep rage.

No. He would not allow it. He had already lost... Enough had happened. He refused to let Kevin be hurt as well.

Andrew got out of the hammock as soundlessly and gracefully as possible, searching the shadows of the only half-lit cavernous space as he inched toward the source of the sound. He kept the blade poised to attack with one hand and pulled out his cell phone with the other. Two thumb-swipes later the had the flashlight enabled.

It wasn't Kevin. Nope. Definitely not Kevin.

Not-Kevin was crumpled in a heap in front of a stack of supply crates that it looked like he'd rolled off of, thus causing the thump Andrew had heard. The groan of pain, however, was clearly not from the fall. Or, well, not just from the fall.

"Who are you?" Andrew demanded, shining the light right on the person's face. They looked like a guy, probably. Short-ish hair and made up of more angles than curves - though it was really hard to tell more than that because the blood-soaked clothes were a little bit distracting.

The injured man(?) on the floor let out a choked, broken sound that Andrew belatedly realized was a laugh. It was so rasped and mangled, he'd almost thought the stowaway was about to launch into their death-throes. Judging by the bloodstains and way the person shook and swayed precariously while trying to push up to their hands and knees, that actually might not have been that far off a guess.

Then the stowaway, the person, the man, said, "Nothing."

Andrew froze. "What did you say?"

"You asked who I was," the man said, and Andrew was sure it was a man now. Moreover, the rough edges around his voice may have been tight with pain and possibly disuse, but even without Andrew's near-perfect memory he would have knows the sharp slashes of that voice anywhere.

The man looked up and in the white glow of Andrew's phone light there was no mistaking how immeasurably blue his eyes were. Like the sky painted from an artist's favorite memory. Like the hint of eternity in a crystal sphere.

Neil smiled. His face was dotted with dried blood and marked with new scars, but the expression still somehow turned the whole world on its head to make it a softer, warmer, safer place.

Andrew wasn't sure what hit the ground first, his phone, his knife, or his knees as he skidded to the floor beside Neil, reaching for him. "Neil... Neil. Fuck. The blood. It's yours? FUCK!" He was babbling, but his own voice was distant to his ears as he touched Neil for the first time in almost a year, as he gathered him close and searched for the source of all that blood.

Shaky hands reached for him and Andrew didn't even think about batting them away. He leaned into their touch even as he turned his face toward the stairs and raised his voice to a shout: "KEVIN! AARON! SOMEONE! NOW!"

"H-hey now, Andrew. Andrew, shh, it's okay. I'm okay, it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to be away this long."

"Shut up with your fucking 'sorry's Neil, I don't want your fucking 'sorry' - I want you here and alive and not dying in my goddamn arms I am NOT doing this with you, do you hear me junkie?"

Andrew felt like his entire system was in overdrive, his mind moving too fast and his nerve ending firing off in matching cylinders. They looked for Neil for months. And when they finally got a breakthrough via that fucking miserable twat Jean Moreau, it was only to find out that Neil was likely dead.

Those hands cupped his face, and even though they trembled against his cheeks he still touched Andrew like he was holding something incredibly precious. Something that needed care and protection lest it drop or be crushed.

"I promise, Drew. I did not drag myself halfway back around the world just to die in your arms."

"Do not even attempt to give me that, Neil. That is exactly the kind of dramatic shit you would do."

"Nah," Neil protested with a rough laugh. "Definitely more Aaron's thing. He's such a petty bitch."

"Fuck you," Andrew spat out, but a bubble of what might have bene a laugh caught in his chest. There were running footsteps coming their way, thundering down the steps and into the room.

"Andrew?! Andrew what-- oh my God. Oh my God. AARON GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Kevin was still shouting as he came to land beside the two of them, and Andrew almost pulled another knife and stabbed him in the fucking eye as he reached for Neil.

In fact, he didn't even realize he had drawn a knife until Kevin jerked back so suddenly he fell on his ass.

"Jesus! Andrew it's just me. He is covered in blood he needs a hospital!"

"It's mostly not mine," Neil chimed in as Andrew struggled to rein in the half-crazed beast that had taken over the arm not holding Neil. The monster inside him was in fits, and its growl was rumbling in Andrew's throat - kept in check only by the slow stroking of Neil's fingers down his jaw.

"Mostly not yours," Kevin echoed, and even through the haze of Andrew's protective rage, he could hear how dumbfounded the other man was.

"Mhm. And I stitched myself up already."

"Stitched yourself up," said Kevin. Then he looked toward the stairs and bellowed: "AARON!"

Neil sighed and the exasperation in that sound was so fucking familiar that it knocked the beast far enough off its temper for Andrew to take control again. He took a slow breath, then another. When Neil looked up at him again, Andrew asked, "Why? How?"

Neil grimaced. The expression must have been painful, Andrew realized as he watched him - because now that he was really looking he could tell that those new scars on his face were less 'scars' and more 'barely healed torture wounds'.

All Neil said was, "It's a long story."

As Aaron finally came half-falling down the steps on wobbly sea-legs, Andrew decided he would leave it be - for now.

The important thing was that Neil was here, Neil was alive, and nothing - fucking nothing - was going to take him away again.

#asks #AFTG prompts #aftg fanfic #aftg ficlet #andreil #reunion fic #mentions of blood #andrew minyard #neil josten #i have no idea what happened dont ask me lol #ask neil - hes the troublemaker #protective andrew minyard #hurt neil josten

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Oooh maybe there was only on bed at a sky resort with Calum and the rest if the band is making bets of when feels are confessed

Lol, here we go another confessional pool. Love to see it. Reader Insert CW: Mentions of death/lost loved ones.

Enjoy Christmas 2020 Blurb Mastelist

Enjoy my full masterlist!

_________________

Ashton and Calum are the first to head to the check-in. The rest of the guys are pulling out their last bits of luggage from the truck. You trail in the middle, still laughing at Luke’s fumbling on the snow. But soon the wind chill creeps up through your jacket and you contemplate heading inside and grabbing your spare key. 

From the counter, as Ashton sorts out the keys needed, Calum glances out to the front door. You’re standing right near the doors, doubled over. He knows it’s you standing there too, can tell by the hiccup of your laughter that’s just muffled enough that Calum can almost belief it’s his subconscious playing a trick on him. “Are you sure you’re okay rooming with them? It won’t be too weird given the whole you not telling your feelings for them because they just lost their brother and you don’t want to seem too insensitive.”

“You make it seem like I’m being weird about this?”

“Calum you’ve had feelings for forever. Yes, they lost their brother this year but you’ve been there for everything. You’ve been nothing but respectful. But they’re doing a lot better. They came on to this trip to have fun. Try to get back to normal because everything and everyone at home keeps treating them as fragile.

“Ashton, it just doesn’t feel like the best time.”

“And will be the right time? When will you every have the best time to tell them your feelings, mate? Because I don’t think there’s ever been a best time in life. There’s only ever now or never.”

Calum shakes his head. “Right now is not good,” he utters and then grabs his bags. Sure, you and Calum had been close for a while. He had been there for a lot. But he couldn’t risk it. This Christmas was going to be hard on you after what happened and there was no way Calum could even consider dumping his feelings on you at a time like this. No, this is the time for you to have some fun. That’s all he needed to focus on. 

“Looks like it’s me and you,” he teases, dangling the key in your face. 

“Hmm, I guess you’ll do,” you laugh. Michael, Ashton, and Luke watch the two of you trek across the resort to your room. 

“Do you think they’ll confess anything on this trip?” Luke asks. 

Ashton sighs. “I don’t know. I think Calum’s overthinking the whole thing. But I also get it. He doesn’t want to push them. I hope the universe is cooking up something.”

“I got dibs something happens tonight,” Michael laughs. 

“Ah, you are a betting man. I’m saying tomorrow,” Ashton counters. 

“I don’t know,” Luke tacks on. “Calum’s been super careful about all this. I think possibly by the end. Gonna need a little bit of romance sparked before anything happens.”

The snow crunches beneath your boots but you’re thankful the house isn’t that far from the check-in. Inside, you thankful to see a bit of warmth or heat had been on previously. There’s a fireplace in the main area. You trail down the hallways to unload your suitcases before settling in. As Calum cracks open the door, a singular bed stares back up at him. It’s a queen sized bed. There’s space, but there’s only one. 

“Have you seen a ghosts?” you asks, noticing the way Calum freezes. 

“Oh-I-Sorry.”

He steps into the room and then you wheel your bags in behind you. You look up to the bed and your heart races. You thought for sure your room would have at least two beds. But it’s okay. There are worst things that could happen. Like you waking up in Calum’s arms. Fuck. “So which side do you want?” you asks facing Calum’s practically still frozen pose. 

“I’m not picky,” he counters. 

You pick the left and drag your suitcase over. You manage to find where the thermostat is located and turn it up just a little after unwrapping yourself from your winter gear. You explore throughout the house too, finding the kitchen and seeing how much space there is. The fire place doesn’t seem too complicated but you don’t mess with it too much. The backdoor opens up to the yard. It’s covered in snow too, but something about the tree lines and the dusting of the snow covering the land for as long as the eye can see. It’s breathtaking. 

The rest of the guys come in then, partners with them. But you stay at the door, watching. You wish you could take a photo to do it justice. You wish you could take even a shitty phone picture and send it to your brother. And you could--in theory. Because he was on your plan and you haven’t removed that line yet at all. You could text his phone. It would deliver. But it would never be seen. And that’s how you know you’ve been standing too long. 

You return to the room, faintly hearing the other guys and their partners settling into their rooms, just as Calum steps out of the bathroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and just sweatpants on for the moment. The sight doesn’t shock you, but it does make you freeze for just a moment, not ready to see it and you duck your head digging into your suitcase. 

“Everything alright?” Calum unearths a sweatshirt but he doesn’t miss the way you disappeared. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.” 

You head into the shower next and let the steam billow around you. The heat nearly scorches your skin, but you almost like it. You enjoy the fact that it reminds you you’re still alive, you’re still feeling. It’s Christmas time. You should be having fun. The house is decorate in garland and wraths there would be Christmas cheer being pumped into your veins but as it stands, there’s just trying, pretending just a little, just enough that it feels like something. 

The sheets don’t even feel real when you slip into bed. It feels like you’re drowning. You lay there fore a moment, trying to grip onto the sheets to ground yourself. But it just all feels too clean, too stiff, too not lived in. And you’re still drowning. You sit up, suddenly aware of the sweat dripping down your back.

“Hey,” a soft hand caresses your arm. “what’s up?”

You look over to Calum who’s turned to his side. “I-I can’t sleep.”

 “Talk to me.”

“It’s the same thing as always,” you sigh. “And I don’t want to bore you with those details. Yet again.”

Calum sits up. “No, bore me. Yet again.” 

You sigh, scrubbing over your face. “It’s okay, Calum. Go back to sleep.”

“Alright, get up,” he sighs and slips out of bed. You don’t move, unsure of what his plan is. He holds out his hands and waves his fingers. “Seriously, c’mon. Get up. This calls for hot chocolate.”

Giving in, you pull the sheets off your body and take his hand. His hold is warm and the two of you pad softly through the door. You hold onto his hand, trying not to conjure up anything in the shadows. The kitchen is the only light source and you settle at the counter as Calum finds mugs and a packet of hot chocolate. He knows he most definitely added it to the list that Ashton sent to everyone and Calum made sure to add that. 

The spoons click against the ceramic mug. The steam escapes into the chilly air. “So,” Calum starts, leaning across from you. “Tell me. Everything.”

“I’m pretending,” you answer. “I am pretending. And sometimes I’m not sure I’m convincing myself.” Calum nods in understanding, watching you take a sip of the drink. “Some days are easier than others. I don’t know--something about that bed, it all felt fake. I hate that feeling. I don’t know. It just--I need to be okay with not being okay. And I am most of the time. It’s just sometimes, like right now, it makes me realize time just keeps going. And I want to go with it too, it’s just hard.”

“What could I do to help?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” you say, taking his hands. “More than enough.”

Calum nods again, trying not to memorize the way your hands feels wrapped around his again. “You know I’m here for you. What if,” he pauses and catches of the sight. “What if we slept on the couch? No fake bed.”

You look over your shoulder and inhale deeply. It is not a small couch but it is also not a very large couch. “Oh, Calum, no, I couldn’t.” But before you can say much else he’s taking your hand and dragging you towards the couch. “It’s so small,” you counter as he settles down on the couch. 

“Good thing I’m comfy,” he returns. You sit next to him, careful of the hot chocolate still steaming in the cup. 

“Calum, really, you can go back to the room, I’m okay by myself.”

“Nah. I won’t stand for that.” He guides you into his chest, and it’s just sitting, cuddled up next to each other. And you manage to finish the beverage but you don’t last much longer against sleep nor can you give into the way Calum’s wrapped you into his arms. At some point, he stretched out across the couch and you cuddled up on his chest. And maybe there are blankets. But you’re not sure. The only thin you’re sure about is that this doesn’t feel fake anymore. This doesn’t make you feel like you’re drowning. 

“I told you it would only take the night,” Michael laughs, watching to two of you cuddled up on the couch. 

“If that’s a pool you guys ran about confessing feelings, you're shit out of luck, Clifford,” Calum whispers. You haven’t woken up yet, or so Calum assumed, and he doesn’t want to move too much. He’d rather let you sleep even if it meant he has to lay there for an extra hour or two or three. You need the rest. 

“I’m still in luck,” Luke adds on. 

“Me too,” Ashton quips.

“I told you nothing was going to happen this trip because they need to focus on healing, and getting back to normal not me or my feelings for them,” Calum hisses out again, scooting up every so slightly on the couch. You don’t seem to be aware or bothered by the movement. 

“You like them. Just admit it. It would all save us a lot of trouble,” Ashton giggles. 

You try not to snort, you really try not you. The whispers of Michael and Luke woke you just a little but it was the rumble of Calum’s voice was the one that kept you up for sure. Calum freezes, eyes widening at the feeling of you shaking against his chest. It goes quiet in the entire room when the rest of the guys notice the panic too. 

“Luke,” you start, pushing up from Calum’s chest. But you don’t look away from Calum’s panicked face. “I hope everyone brought cash for you.”

It’s in slow motion as you stretch up and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth, close enough that it almost connects but just far off the mark that Calum knows. His heart races and he cups your face. “What was that for?”

“Thank you. I like you. And I know it’s a fucked up time in my life. But you are really cute and you care. So I wanna try just give me some time.”

A shadow casts over them and when Calum glances up there’s Ashton holding a mistletoe. “Kiss and make it real,” he laughs. 

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