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ioveartfilm · 2 months

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Eternal Show | Copacabana

Summary You were the brightest star of all. You shine too brightly upon others without you knowing. What you didn’t know is that stars tended to be bright before they shut down.

Genre Drama, Romance.

Additional Content Major Death, Violence, Mentions of Sex, Mature Content, One shot.

Pairing Gojou Satoru x Fem! Reader

He is taken back by your stunning reflection, the way your crimson dress envelopes your figure as if it was tailored for you. He can’t resist lacing his arms around your waist, breathing in close to your neck, hoping to savor your scent a little longer. The fabric accentuates your body splendidly. No wonder a great crowd gathers to witness your performance. You may be theirs for the night, but once you stepped out of that stage you were his. He plants a line of kisses down your neck tightening his embrace, getting lost on your soft skin. Before he can go any further, you extricate yourself from his hold to meet his longing gaze.

“I suppose you liked the dress.” You claimed with a light chuckle.

“Is it too obvious?” He responds placing both of his hands on your hips, clearly unable to keep his hands off you. “Allow me to be selfish for a few seconds. I want to hold you in my arms a little longer before you ascend to that stage. I have countless time seen you perform through I don’t think I will ever get used to see those starving for you.”

“Let them watch. Let them appreciate the sight. Little do they know, a man has already captured my heart. The only one who comprehends my heart and soul like a well-read book.”

A caress down your face sent a spark running down your body with anticipation. “Beauty with a honest heart and deep soul. How can I ever ask for more?”

You laughed at this. “You sweet talker. Save your compliments for later. I must get going.” He leans down to lock lips with you, savoring the taste of your redden lips. You gently pushed me away once you felt his tongue pleading entrance.

“Are you doing this on purpose? Ruining my makeup to held me up?” He could only smiled carefree disarming your comment his lips carrying the trace of your lipstick.

“Forgive my love, I’m afraid I won’t make it through the night without tasting your lips.” You shake your head with a smile playing on your lips in response to his heartfelt confession.

“I really need to go.” Eventually he retreat himself from you his hands aching for your touch already.

“Leave them breathless, my dear. Paint this place with the hues of your grace.” He exhales every words carrying great emotion with a gaze brimming with genuine affection solely for you.

The overall ambience welcomes you with open arms with music wafting through the air, a courtesy of a lively band playing jazz. It’s glamorous surroundings blind your eyesight with its golden brilliance. The rhythmic tap of heels underscores the lively energy from the sweethearts dancing along with the melody. The sound of clinking of glasses, murmurs of distinctive conversations of the gentlemen being witnesses of the display invaded your ears as you walked further into the nightclub. Eventually you found yourself poised before the opulent bar working the confines of the club. Greeted by a man in a tailored white shirt and suspenders, acknowledging you with a insightful smile. The mixed scent of different liquors hit your nostrils as you settled down upon the barstool.

“Which whom I’m having the pleasure of serving tonight?” The bartender interject holding eye contact with you, almost like he was hypnotized by your demeanor. Fixing your posture you reciprocate his gesture with a kind smile.

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You present yourself, extending your right hand which he respond your mannerism by delicately placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“My pleasure. It will be a honor to serve you on this beloved night. What would you like to indulge in first?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression brimming with amusement. “Aren’t you going tell me your name?”

The bartender chuckles lightly upon hearing your comment offering a polite grin. “Pardon me, Ma’am. My name is not such of importance, though if you wish to know then I have not option but do so.”

“Satoru Gojo. Pleased to make acquaintances with you, Ma’am.”

“Oh please, darling. Just call me. (Y/N). I’m new in town and I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with everything. I came across with this club while I was passing by, contemplating if I should just have a moment for myself with a nice drink.” You confess freely.

“Apparently I have done a great decision. The ambience, the music, it’s lively show. I’m delighted by everything.” You exhale a sigh, accompanied by a smile.

“That’s explains why I haven’t seen such a gracious face before. You see, I grew here and I’m aware of everyone around here. Believe me, I wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours.” Satoru articulated smoothly gaining a flustered smile a laugh leaving your parting lips.

“My. Do you say that to every new face you encounter?”

“You’re the first, dearest.”

You laugh, a hand discreetly veiling your mouth at his complaints. “I found that hard to believe. I will like to have a Daiquiri, please.” The nights unfolds smoothly from there as you engaged with the dashing bartender, effortlessly traversing through a myriad of topics. Every single one possible.

“A showgirl?”

You nodded caressing the edges of your empty glass. “Yes, I used to be a showgirl back at New Orleans. I have retired for some time.”

“Why so?” He can’t help but inquired more into the matter.

“I guess I wanted to wander around see what’s out there for me.”

“And what have you found so far?”

“Well,” You replied. “I have found for starters a mesmerizing night with a striking man of resplendent white and piercing blue eyes.”

“If I’m being honest.” You continued. “You possess great beauty to be wasted behind a bar. It should presented on the big silver screen.” You only spoke the truth, his allure was unparalleled with breathtaking features that leaves an indelible imprint on those who beheld him. His eyes widened slightly in response to your words leaning in closer supporting himself on his elbows against the bar table until both of your faces where inches away.

“I should been the one saying that.” He says with a sudden change of demeanor making you want to lower your gaze at the intensity in his clear eyes. “Your skin emanates a radiant glow, your hands boast a delicate texture, your fragrance that carries the essence of a blooming spring. Your white dress that embrace your body right, with its silver components making you shine with your beautiful smile. Your face bears flawless features, unlike any other woman I have encountered. And your lips…your lips. Adorned with a dashing red hue, with their softness that is visible even from here.” He trails off, genuine admiration painted in every word he said.

The next thing you knew, you find yourself in the backseat of his car fervently melding your lips with his like tomorrow won’t arrive. The windows gradually obscured, veiled by the warmth of your combined breaths. His touch becomes an intoxicating stimulus, propelling you both into a passionate entanglement within the confined space of the car. You emit a moan against his lips, clutching his shoulders while the burning sensation run down your body as your back collides with the seat beneath you. His ardent thrusts hit you driven by an urgent need for mutual pleasure. All you can do is surrender to his affections, vocalizing his name in impassioned cries.

“I find it hard to believe you’ve only shared kisses with a select few.” He remarks with hint of disbelief lingering in his voice. You shrug nonchalantly at his surprise.

“Honored that you are on that list?”

“I will be more honored if that I’m the last one on the list.” He express genuinely his touch trailing down your naked back.

Elevating your gaze you inquired, your curiosity getting the best of you with a subtle hint of playfulness. “How many women have you kissed?”

“Not many.” You trace his chest with your fingertips feeling his smooth skin.

“Are you lying to me?”

He shakes his head in response. “Now, why would I lie?”

“Perhaps you’ve already shared kisses with a thousand women.” His hand made contact with the side of your face once you finish your statement.

“Now why would I engage with a thousand women? Why would I kiss that much women considering my limited interactions, where only a select few have succeeded on trapping me. Holding me captive with their displays of affection?”

The round of applause reverberates through the air, signaling the end of your performance while music gradually fades away. Extending your gratitude to your loyal audience, your gaze drifting away towards the very back of the club where the bar is situated. In that brief moment like time stopped, you contemplate the face that holds a special place in your heart.

“Are you sure?” Satoru asks you, a frown drawn on his face. Your trembling hands clutch the pregnancy test before present it to him, fearing the worst. The last thing you expected was Satoru’s change of faces replaced by a wide smile his orbs shinning upon learning the news.

“I will work hard at the bar, if possible I will take more part time jobs. I won’t leave you alone in this matter.”

“Miss (Y/N). Someone required your presence for a brief moment.” You were soon informed by staff that someone will like to have your presence for whatever reason. Stepping out of your room, your eyes wandered around the club until your eyes landed on a man in a well-tailored suit. A dark fabric excusing an intimidating aura along with a knotted tie, polished leather shoes and finally a shiny diamond lacing around his forefinger. His posture plus his predatory eyes were ready to eat you alive. His presence makes you unease though you had no option but walked over as he calls you over to his table.

“My. I’m honored, The famous miss (Y/N) agreed to meet me after her performance. I’m sure you’re tired, though grant this man a moment with you. Who he went all his way down here to only see you perform.” Fixing your unease demeanor, you nods at his words with a charismatic smile, taking a seat before him.

“I’m pleasured to hear you only come to the club to see me perform. It brings me great joy.” He took your hand on his, kissing your gloved hand while applying an uncomfortable tight pressure.

“It brings me great joy” He remarks. “To share this moment with you. The club will be nothing without your presence gracing us.” He speaks and you could swear his eyes deepened in hue. “Enlighten me what would it take for me to spend a night with you?”

“What?” You displayed surprised, hoping you had misheard his words. His grasp intensified eliciting a sharp intake of breath, his action making you hiss in pain.

“Come on, sweetheart. Stop playing hard to get.” He urged, a playful glint in his eyes. You rose instantly from your seat, yanking away your hand from his grasp.

“I kindly ask you to leave. Your behavior is inappropriate.” A dark chuckle escapes him, rising to his feet as well, fixing his menacing gaze on you.

His voice drips with disdain as he utters, “You whores always playing hard to get. Tell me how much money you want? I can give you more than you earn in this shitty club.” You scoffed in disbelief and visibly disgust by his presence ready to leave. Before you could do that, he grabs your forearm roughly pulling you back.

“Let me go—!” You feel yourself being freed when Satoru was already at your side as he forcefully distanced the man from you with a push.

“Sir. I ask you to leave.” Satoru's authoritative voice resonated through the nearly deserted club. The other man clenching his teeth before uttering with a tone of derision, staring indifferently at Satoru with no intention of collaborating.

“Who are you the bartender? Get out of my way!” He reached out to grab you once again, when Satoru swiftly position himself in front of you shielding you, pushing the man with great strength causing him to collide with the table behind him. The sound of shattering glasses distorted the ambience of the club. A surge of anger engulfed him, prompting to rise. Using his fist, he delivered a direct punch to Satoru’s face.

“Satoru!” You exclaimed horrified, witnessed your lover’s fallen form. You were brutally pushed aside almost losing your equilibrium when the man continued his assault on Satoru, punching repeatedly.

There was too much blood. Too much to be Satoru’s.

Satoru regained his strength, delivering a forceful kick to the man's chest, forcing him to stagger backward. Rising to his feet, he then proceed to land punches to the man’s face hatred coursing through his body. You hurriedly went to his side, gripping his shoulder. “Satoru, stop! Let’s call the police!” You beg desperately, hoping your words can be heard.

A chaotic scene unfolded as Satoru was pushed back, you rush to his side to help him. The man wiping the blood from his mouth rose to his feet again. Time seemed to slow as the ominous sound of a charged gun filled the air. Instinctively, you positioned yourself in front of your lover uttering his name. Horrified screams echoed after the haunting sound of a shotgun took in, signaling someone got shot.

It took a moment to realize that you were the one who got shot.

You pushed Satoru on time before the bullet could hit him, time froze, however you didn’t immediately feel any pain. With difficulty you lower your head to stare down at your bloody chest, your white dress stained with the dark hue of your blood. You gasped loudly lifting a hand to stop the bleeding. The excruciating pain stop you from doing so, as you crumpled to your side.

“(Y/N)!!” Immobile and in agony, you heard his voice calling your name. Pain enveloping you in an embrace. The man’s leather shoes vanished from your view as you bleed on the ground, while the pain stifled any coherent thoughts. The old notion of “witnessing your life before death” felt like a cruel lie. You were dying and it was painful, leaving you gasping for air with a searing pain in your chest.

“No, we aren’t naming him after you if it’s a boy.” Satoru laughs, with a fake offended look.

“Why not? You don’t like my name? That’s a shame.”

“It’s already enough I have to deal with you.” You replied simply caressing the side of your stomach.

“You’re very cruel to your future spouse.” Once as soon Gojo said those words, your eyes widened moving your head to see him.

“What did you said?” You uttered shakily. Satoru offered a tender smile while lowering to one knee, cradling your hand in his own.

Satoru spoke earnestly, “I know it’s crazy given our brief time together, but I’ve found myself deeply in love with you. And if that makes me a fool, so be it. (Y/N), will you marry me?”

Overjoyed, you enthusiastically exclaimed. “Yes, a thousand times yes!!” Leaping into his arms with pure happiness.

The sapphire ring on his hand radiates a brighter glow, it’s timeless significance growing as it weathers the passage of time. Waving the half empty glass of his drink, a voice calls him pulling him out of thoughts.

“Sir, we are about to close.”

A sigh escapes his lips upon hearing this. “I will take my leave shortly if that’s okay.” The man nodded at the older man’s request. Satoru’s heart swelled with nostalgia as he surveyed his surroundings. Witnessing the changes over the years weighed heavily on him. Leaving his seat, he approaches the newly transformed stage. Despite the changes, it remains the same stage where you once performed. How fortune everyone back then were. Being able to witnesses your timeless performances. Ascending the stairs, Satoru stands on the stage glancing around. Overwhelmed by his emotions, he burst in tears. His cries reverberate through the empty club. The night still haunts him, blaming himself everyday for not be able to save you. He lost his youth, he lost his baby and he lost you. The faint sound of curtains opening draw his attention, as he lifts his tear-filled eyes, his cries subside. He saw you. Standing there, wearing the same dress from the day you passed away.

“(Y/N)…?” He calls for you, his voice becoming weak.

“Hello, my love.” Upon hearing your voice, Satoru bows his head overcome with sadness. The ache of missing your voice hits him. It hurts so much hearing it once again.

“Why did you left me? Why did you have to leave so soon?” He cries. “I missed you dearly, I still miss you. I hate myself for not saving you.” Strolling your way towards your lover, you hold his face on your hands so he can meet your eyes.

“Believe me, I didn’t want to leave you. All I wanted was to start a new life with you, with our baby. I’m sorry I had to leave you alone.” Satoru continued his cries, shutting his eyes together.

Blinking away tears, you let out a strained sigh. “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself, huh? Are you trying to make me mad?” You said, your voice lingering with concern. Satoru didn’t respond, still crying his heart out.

“Give me your hand.”

After a few minutes, Satoru’s sobs subside after hearing your request. He blinks in confusion staring back at you. “What?”

“Just give me your hand. I want to see if your dancing skills are still good.” You say infusing a moment of lightness. As your hands link together, the ambience changes transporting you both back in time. 30 years ago when youth and love intertwined between you two.

In each other’s arms, you both laughed and exchanged smiles dancing with carefree abandon. The old same tunes surrounded the dance, the ones you used to perform to. In that perfect moment, reality faded away for Satoru, lost in the enchantment of the past. The Satoru from 30 years ago dancing with the love of his life.

“Sir—“ a firm grip interrupted the staff man from calling the elder man.

“It’s okay, let him be for a couple of minutes.”

Silently the staff observed the older man dancing in solitude with the ghost of you. Moving with a poignant grace, lost in the memories of a stolen youth.

Author’s Note: I kind of had this draft for a while so I’m posting it now all fixed. Thanks for reading ! Please check out my other works.

song | other shots

115 notes · View notes

wandaromanova · 1 year

Text

enigma.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Warnings: physical violence, bullying, one cuss word

A/N: hello! this is my first fic in a very long time and also my first wednesday fic. i’m super rusty so please bare with me. not proofread. happy reading <3

Summary: You’re the only person who sees Wednesday for who she really is.

Word Count: 3.2K | wednesday masterlist |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

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Wednesday Addams was an enigma.

From the second Enid had introduced you to the newest Nevermore resident, your interest in the raven-haired girl had been piqued.

Lifeless stare, ghostly-pale skin that was ice cold to the touch, and the cadence of her brief yet eloquent words were like a breath of fresh air. You were instantly enamored by her, eager to know more.

However, that proved to be difficult as time passed. Wednesday was a person of few words and if she so happened to speak, all that would fall from her lips were insults or the occasional death threat.

Conversations were merely one-sided whenever you worked up the courage to speak to her, which eventually faltered as she blankly stared at you through her long lashes.

And it wasn’t like you could stalk her social media for some insight.

Unsurprisingly, she found social media to be, and you quote, “a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.” You had to admit, she had a point.

All you could do was observe the things Wednesday would say or do. Considering you shared classes and had Enid as a common denominator, it wasn’t like all hope in getting to know the girl was lost.

You did notice the Addams girl somewhat warm up to everyone else, just not with you. As odd as it may sound, you wanted to be seen by the raven-haired girl.

It was as if the need to be accepted by her was consuming you.

At one point, you questioned whether or not there was any true depth to her. Was she genuinely cold-hearted or was there some semblance of humanity beneath her rough exterior? Why was she especially rash with you?

Wednesday Addams always had her guard up, so what was she trying to hide?

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You’d never forget your first decent interaction with Wednesday.

You were standing beside your locker, leaning against the wall as Enid went on a tangent about her feelings for Ajax.

As the wolf spoke animatedly, hands flailing about, your eyes couldn’t help themselves from diverting their attention to the living shadow that stalked your way.

Wednesday looked gorgeous as always, there was no doubt about that. There was something about the way she carried herself with such grace that stood out in a sea of people.

Not a single wrinkle of her clothes nor a strand of hair out of place, perfect posture, and burgundy lipstick that complimented her complexion beautifully.

Enid noticed your staring and turned around, her excitement going into overdrive which admittedly, you didn’t think was possible.

You loved the girl, but you sometimes wonder how she isn’t exhausted from all the energy she uses.

“Hi, roomie! How has your day been so far?” Enid’s enthusiasm was written all over her face, contrasting Wednesday’s lack thereof.

“It’s been dreadful,” Wednesday spoke monotonously as she glanced at you over her roommates’ shoulder.

“Dreadful in a good way or dreadful in a bad way?” The blonde inquired and Wednesday’s eyes snapped back to her in an instant.

“Dreadful in an ‘exsanguination is becoming increasingly appealing’ way. How you interpret that is inconsequential to me.”

Wednesday deadpanned, forcing Enid to awkwardly chuckle. You decided to try and save your friend from embarrassment.

“So, you’re having a decent day it seems.” You spoke up, the two girls focusing on you. The raven-haired girl stared at you with a glimmer of curiosity behind her dark eyes.

“And what gave you that impression?” You cleared your throat, playing with the collar of your uniform nervously as Wednesday raised an eyebrow.

“Exsanguination is surface-level or internal blood loss. It kills quickly and efficiently with little to no warning. It seems like something you would enjoy…”

You trailed off, avoiding eye contact with the cloud of darkness that stood before you as realization dawned on you. You sounded fucking insane.

However, you didn’t have time to contemplate getting psychiatric help before Wednesday’s soft yet firm voice met your ears.

“You’re the only person I’ve met in this hormone-infested hell to understand my implications.”

You half-heartedly smile in an attempt to remain calm and collected. There was no time to respond as the bell rang, signaling the students of Nevermore to head to their next class.

“Time to go, see you later Y/N. Don’t forget, we’re hanging out in my room later.” Enid half-yelled out as she walked past you.

Wednesday simply gave you a nod before following behind the hyper werewolf. As soon as the pair were out of sight, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

In a way as unorthodox as herself, Wednesday Addams had complimented you.

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You’d never forget when you caught her staring at you.

You were sitting at your self-designated seat in botanical science class, doodling random pictures into your notebook when you felt a presence beside you.

Confused, you look up to see Wednesday settling her backpack onto the floor, and that feeling increases tenfold. Normally, Wednesday is partnered up with Enid.

So…why was she here with you?

“Uh, hey. Why are you sitting here? Not that I mind, you just usually sit with Enid.” Your voice came out shaky and you mentally berated yourself for it.

“Enid wants Ajax to sit with her since their date went swimmingly. I had to hear about it all night, much to my misery.”

The raven-haired girl grumbled as she took out her notebook from her backpack, placing it on the table in front of her.

“Okay… cool, cool. It’s just that Yoko sits the-” You started to speak but instantly stopped as the girl you mentioned walked up to Wednesday’s side.

“That’s my seat, Addams.” The attitude was evident in your friend’s voice and expression, as you awkwardly sat and watched.

Wednesday turned her head, glaring at Yoko. You were glad to not be on the receiving end of her stare. She was honestly terrifying for such a tiny person.

“Not anymore.”

There was no room for argument as the storm cloud beside you faced forward once more. You shot Yoko an apologetic stare as she huffed and went off to find another chair. Soon after, Thornhill’s replacement came in and class began.

No words were spoken between you and Wednesday for the majority of the session. To be fair, it’s hard to get a word in when you’re copying down notes and trying to comprehend what the hell is going on.

You furrowed your eyebrows and bit down on your lip as you listened to the teacher, but the feeling of someone’s eyes on you pulled you from your trance. The second you turned your head, your eyes met Wednesday’s intense gaze.

“Is there something on my face?”

“Besides stupidity? No.”

You would say you were surprised by her response, but you weren’t. Part of you wanted to confront Wednesday, question her more.

However, you decided your ego couldn’t take another hit for the time being and left it to rest.

Perhaps she was internally judging every fiber of your existence. From what you knew about her, you figured that had to be the case. Nevertheless, her unwavering gaze persisted throughout the remainder of the period.

As the class came to a close, you turned to speak to the girl beside you, just to be met with an empty seat.

The only sign of Wednesday’s presence was the fleeting glimpse of her silhouette disappearing through the door. Disappointment washed over you, but you pushed it aside as you collected your belongings.

Flinging your backpack over your shoulder, you stood up and made your way over to Enid and Yoko. You gave them a puzzled look when you realized they had been sitting together during class, their items still scattered about the table.

“Hey Enid, I thought you were sitting with Ajax,” You greeted the blonde, curiosity laced in your voice. She flashed her signature wide smile at you, tilting her head to the side in a questioning manner.

“Nope, he was paired up with Xavier. They like drawing bugs together to bring to life, it’s really gross. Why would you think he was with me?”

Enid sidetracked before asking, staring at you in anticipation as she awaited your response.

“Oh, no reason. Just thought you guys would be together since you’re dating and all that jazz.” You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly before Enid forcefully linked her arm with yours.

She abruptly pulled you along as Yoko followed close behind, heading toward the exit practically jumping in excitement as she went on about the new desserts that were in the cafeteria.

Her words were mere whispers compared to the thoughts that clouded your mind.

Ajax and Enid hadn’t been together today like Wednesday said they would. So, why would she go through the trouble of sitting next to you, knowing that the spot was occupied by someone else? Why hadn’t she sat with Enid instead?

So many questions flew around your mind, but one aspect of the ordeal stood out to you. Out of all the places she could’ve been, she chose to be beside you. Wednesday had lied to be near you.

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You’d never when Wednesday stood up for you.

You were walking around Jericho Town Square, casually looking at the displays in the windows of the different shops when you caught sight of a group of five normie boys pointing and laughing at you from a distance.

You thought nothing of it until they started to make their way over to you.

You turned around, speed-walking in the opposite direction of the teens. You could hear their footsteps behind you, and as their pace picked up, so did yours. However, you couldn’t outrun them.

You felt a pull on the back of your shirt and before you knew it, you were being dragged into an alleyway and shoved up against a wall by your collar. You let out a grunt from the impact, your head hitting the cement with such force it made you lightheaded.

“Listen carefully, the mayor may let you weirdos roam around, but no one wants you here.”

The dude dressed in a letterman jacket gripped your collar tighter as his entourage laughed, pushing your body higher up on the wall, practically choking you as the material blocked your airways.

You were trembling, half because of fear and the other half from lack of oxygen. You were never one for violence and tried to avoid it at all costs.

“You’re worthless! Jericho would be a better place without mistakes like you here.” One of the four boys that were watching yelled. You couldn’t make out who was saying what as your vision began to blur, consciousness slowly leaving you.

The next thing you knew, your body was falling to the ground. You hit the floor hard, the impact causing you to wince before you felt kicks from every direction. All you could do was lay there and beg them to stop as the pain radiated throughout your body.

The insults and slurs they spat out had become muffled as you curled up into a ball, hands over the sides of your head in an attempt to protect it. It felt like the kicks would never end, until they did.

“Hey!” You heard a familiar voice shout out. The blows had come to an abrupt halt. You looked up to find the source of the sound and your eyes widened when they landed on Wednesday.

“Check it out boys, another freak for us to beat the shit out of. This should be fun.”

The boy who had previously pinned you to the wall had laughed out, the rest chuckling with him. However, they went silent and took a step back as the raven-haired girl pulled out a knife from her boot, inching towards them.

“Leave now or I’ll gut and fillet each and every one of you. And trust me, it wouldn’t be my first rodeo.”

Wednesday practically growled her words at them, fuming in anger. Her glare was as cold as you’d ever seen. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the knife with all of her strength. At that moment, you were convinced she was going to commit murder.

Her threat was enough to send the group running, as expected. Wednesday’s eyes remained on the teens until they were out of sight. She placed the knife in the place she found it before rushing over and dropping to her knees in front of your writhing body.

You were shaking like a leaf, still scared they might return with a vengeance as you voiced your concerns to the girl above you.

“W-Wednesday, what if they come back to hurt me again?” You croaked out, letting out a groan when she lightly touched your side.

“If they do, I’ll make sure their bodies are never found.”

She stared down at you, analyzing your visible injuries before coming to the conclusion that you wouldn’t be able to get up and walk. “I’m going to have to carry you. There’s no way you’ll get to Nevermore on your own, let alone out of this alley.”

You simply nodded as she placed her arms under your body. The moment she lifted you up, an agonizing cry left you. It felt as if your body was on fire. You knew she was being as gentle as she could, that was evident when she began walking. She moved at a slow pace to avoid as much movement and friction as possible.

A few minutes later, you started to feel sleepy, but you were pretty sure your body was just shutting down from the trauma it endured. You managed to murmur a “thank you for saving me,” before closing your eyes and drifting into sleep, not expecting a response.

The colorless girl waited until your breathing had evened out, a sigh leaving her lips as she stared down at you in her arms, still being cautious of each step she took.

“I wish I had sooner.”

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You’d never forget your first kiss with Wednesday.

In the following months after the incident, she’d been less callous towards you. You figured she was pitying you, but this was Wednesday Addams we were talking about. She isn’t capable of pity. So, you had no idea why she was allowing you to get closer to her.

Nevertheless, you enjoyed being able to hang out with the girl without low-key fearing for your life. And with the close proximity, you had developed feelings for her.

It was hard not to fall for Wednesday. She’s incredibly smart, a master at playing the cello, an amazing writer, and beautiful. The only problem was her lack of interest in you.

Sure, you enjoyed learning about her, but she never attempted to learn anything about you.

Reciprocated feelings or not, she was still your friend and it kind of hurt that she showed no regard for who you were as a person. It was almost as if she accepted your company for the sake of having someone there.

So, one day you finally decided to tell her how you felt, for better or for worse.

You’d been in Wednesday and Enid’s room. Enid was at the movie theater with Ajax, leaving you and her roommate alone. The room was silent, the only sound to be heard was the clicks of Wednesday’s typewriter.

You were sitting on her bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. However, you couldn’t get the girl who was just a few feet away out of your mind. A sigh escaped your lips, grabbing Wednesday’s attention.

“Someone looks miserable.” Her voice, despite the insult, was music to your ears. You knew that was her way of asking what was bothering you. You decided to grow a pair and finally talk to her, seeing as this was the perfect opportunity to do so.

“I know it’s your writing hour, but can we talk? It’s important.” You shyly asked as you stood up and made your way toward her, internally rolling your eyes at yourself. You were trying to sound confident and ultimately failed.

“It better be,” Wednesday mumbled, removing the paper from her typewriter and neatly placing it on the side of her desk. She spun her chair to the side, looking up at you expectantly. You gulped, looking down at the floor as you tried to formulate the words you wanted to say before committing to them.

“So, um, we’ve been friends for a while now, and don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about it. It’s just sometimes it feels like the interest is one-sided. Maybe it just hurts because I have romantic feelings for you, but I want you to see me for who I am. I don’t even know if I’m making any sense. I’ll shut up now.”

You couldn’t even look the girl in the eyes as you attempted to keep your voice stable. Your heart was racing as you waited for her to say something, anything.

A minute had passed before Wednesday stood from her chair. You thought she was about to force you out of the room and tell you to never come near her again, but that didn’t happen. She spoke instead.

“You play with the collar of your uniform when you’re nervous, bite your lip when you’re concentrating, you tremble when you’re scared, and you look down at the floor to avoid eye contact when you’re under stress.”

You looked up at her in shock, instantly making eye contact with the girl. Truthfully, you didn’t even know you did those things yourself. They were simply subconscious ticks that you had. You were about to speak up, but Wednesday had beat you to it.

“You somehow enjoy chick-flicks, your favorite color is a nauseating tone of pink, you’re afraid of the dark so you sleep with a nightlight, you order a caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream at the Weathervane, and you’re allergic to tomatoes.”

As the raven-haired girl listed off more facts about you, you were rendered speechless. You weren’t even sure how she knew about your nightlight or your tomato allergy, but this wasn’t the time to question her.

All you could do was stare at her like a deer caught in headlights. You were in such disbelief that you didn’t even realize that Wednesday had gotten closer.

You were finally brought back down to earth when you felt her cold hand cup your cheek. You stared deeply into her dark eyes, before taking a leap of faith and connecting your lips with hers.

There was some hesitancy at first, but the feeling of her lips on yours was euphoric.

You were instantly addicted and believed Wednesday felt the same way, if her hands that tangled themselves in your hair were any indication.

When air became an issue, you pulled away, allowing the two of you to catch your breath, your forehead connecting with hers.

Your eyes were closed as you smiled, taking in the moment you had been waiting for, but your eyes fluttered open, locking onto Wednesday’s as she filled the comfortable silence.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’ve never seen anyone as clearly as I do you, Y/N.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday addams x y/n

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thoughtsfromlayla · 11 days

Text

Destined Dreams of Love: Prologue

Summary: As no stranger to arranged marriages, your parents excitedly marry you off to the king at his request. He is contradictory, cold yet caring, strict yet liberating, it's all too much! He could never love another for reasons you do not understand either, didn't he just meet you? Perhaps in time, you can learn to love him, too.

Warnings: ~1.3k words. Arranged marriage trope, slow burn, alternate universe, eventual smut, miscommunication, general palace drama, no i don't know the rules of royalty, ANGST (It's my specialty)

Tag list is open, just let me know!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Everything was too much.

Too much fuss, too much noise, too many smells, too many textures. Your mother stands beside you as she fluffs the veil one last time and smoothes your silken dress. The corset you wore was bone-crushing, making the already anxiety-ridden day even harder to breathe. With sweaty, shaking palms, you grab the bouquet of flowers, gripping onto the fragile stems tightly as your only saving grace.

Your mother moves the veil over your face a few moments before the large doors open. She cups at your face through the see through fabric and looks at you with teary eyes.

“Oh, my own daughter. Married off to the king at his request,” She gushes with love. “Now, make sure you make him happy, bring honor to our family.” Her last bit of wisdom falls from her lips.

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes at her words. You’re no stranger to arranged marriages, it’s quite the normal in the higher social circles that you find yourself in. Your birth was that of an arranged marriage, after all. You are, however, a stranger to King Morpheus.

That is to say, you have seen his portrait several times, and you would be lying if you were to say he is not of good breeding. He always eluded a sense of authority, even through the layers of paint. Perhaps it was the way he held his head, or his posture, or how lean and muscular shoulders meet slim waists. But then you’d be rambling - and a proper lady does not ramble, you can even hear your mother’s voice echoing the words.

The music swells in muted harmony on the other side of the heavy doors and you hear the gregarious sound of people standing from the pews as the door slowly opens. Your mother leaves you side and it would be the last time you will feel her comforting arms around you. It takes everything in your willpower to not turn around and beg her to reconsider. But who would defy a king?

Your father stands on the other side of the doors and you walk a few paces to meet his awaiting arm. His face is as stern as always, only more groomed than normal. The crow feet and smile wrinkles are few, but some are discernable to you as you look at him one last time. You can recount each memory those wrinkles came from, few from joy. Perhaps today you will make him proud. To throw away your own dreams and desires for your family.

He leads forward, your hand slotted to his arm, and your heart pounds louder than the choir. Each step you take, the closer you are to your future, to your soon to be husband. Each step another wish gets left behind in the vibrate but dying petals of fresh flowers. You will never know the warmth of your own bed again, nor the hearth that burns proudly in the drawing room where you like - liked - to spend your time, no more familiar faces to bother you. Your fingers will never dance across the same pianoforte’s glass keys, and they will never caress the old books in the library that talk about love.

Your father lets go of your arm and you stand on wobbling legs to stare through thin fabric at the new outstretched hand. Pale skin is hidden by midnight black sleeves, trimmed with gold and flames. He wears a formal suit, an equally dark cape draped behind him that pools along the stairs like the night sky fell to the Earth at his feet. Your gloved hand takes his as he helps you up the last few steps. The choir stops, and it is just you and your heart against the world. You take a look at him, and the last of your breath is taken away.

He’s somehow even more handsome in person, his portraits certainly didn’t lie about his facial structure. In fact, you believe his jawline to be stronger than the paintings. His eyes stare at yours through your veil, an enchanting mercury blue. Cold, but you think if you were to dig far enough, you would find warmth instead.

A cough from the priest brings you back to the present and you jump slightly in your skin. His thumb runs a soothing finger over the back of your hand, but it somehow does the opposite. It makes him real, it makes the situation real.

“Distinguished guests, esteemed family members, and honored participants, we gather here today to witness and solemnize the union between His Majesty, King Morpheus, and Lady (Y/N). In the tradition of arranged marriages, this ceremony represents the merging of two families…” The priest’s voice fades into a muddle, the monotone reading of the speech out of an old dusty book ornate with gold and jewels.

You find your eyes wandering to anything you could see without moving. Yet they always returned to those cold mercury blue eyes. You knew nothing about this man, even the news articles the school boy brings every week never spoke of anything specific about the king. He wasn’t known to be the closest to his subjects, only ruling them from a six foot long pole. Would he be the same behind closed doors? Only calling you when he demands it? Or will he be something else, something different?

All questions to be answered in due time, for sure, but is it wrong to ask now? Before you are tied to this man until your dying breath?

“In the presence of witnesses and under the guidance of tradition, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.” The priest finishes.

You blink when the speech is over. King Morpheus takes a step closer to you and you think your heart is going to jump out of your chest and plunge itself into the nearby sea. His hand leaves yours and slowly lifts the veil, a slight smile is apparent on his face. A blink and you would have thought you imagined it. The veil falls behind you and you are completely presented to your king, the flimsy fabric the last of your defenses.

His warm breath tickles across your glossed lips before he pushes forward with a kiss. Soft lips meet your own, tasting of sweet wine and berries and leaves you dizzy. You always thought your first kiss would be that of romance, something you read in your many books. Where you had run off into the forest and stolen a kiss with a forbidden lover, shared only between the two of you and full of giggles and promises to run away together. How ironic it is instead with the strictest setting possible, witnessed by the entire court of his kingdom.

His fingers find their way to your cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin.

“I could never choose to love another,” He hums while he looks at you. It was hard to discern what kind of emotion he was showing as he didn't show any at all.

His declaration shocks you and yet… calms down all of your nerves and never ending questions at the same time. His voice was not what you had expected it to be. Somewhere in your head, you had convinced yourself that his voice would be harsh, cold, and rough like the oak trees that shaded the river. Instead you are lulled to him by his voice, it’s soft and deep. He speaks slowly with no rush in his tone at all. It’s a voice of seduction and authority, a voice that knows its importance and will be listened to.

Your own voice finds itself as you respond. “Maybe one day, I’ll could learn to love you, too.”

“I will wait, my dear.” He breathes out, yet he doesn't meet your eyes quite so.

“May I present His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen Consort.” The priest announces. The King drops your hands immediately as if you were made of hot iron and turns to the crowd, any sentiment the two of you shared, lost immediately.

Cheers erupt around you, flowers following their excitement as the marriage is sealed in golden ink.

☾ ✴ ๋࣭ ⭑․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #arranged marriage #strangers to lovers #eventual smut #prologue

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clangenrising · 2 months

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Month 13 - Newleaf

Scorch awoke to the sound of paws on her window.

She sat up in her window perch, chest tight. It was twilight. Her folk had all retreated to their private rooms for the night and the house was dark, save for a soft orange glow down the hall. Outside, a skinny grey she-cat with a torn ear and a scarred cheek stood on hindlegs to press her paws against the glass.

Scorch sighed, angry at her own reaction. She hated that every little thing caused her body to react like she was about to die. She felt powerless. It was infuriating.

“Gingersnap, right?” asked the cat outside.

Scorch shifted her posture to look down on the cat. “Yes. You are?”

“Jagg,” the cat said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m your guard for tonight.” Scorch huffed indignantly.

“Most of my guards know to use the proper respect when addressing one of the exalted,” she said, swishing her tail. One of Jagg’s brows lifted in a poorly hidden contemptuous frown. Scorch smiled. She liked this cat.

“Right,” said Jagg, dropping her paws from the window. “Apologies, your grace. I forget myself.”

“It’s alright,” Scorch purred, relaxing her posture. “I’m mostly teasing. Did you need something?”

Jagg gave her a skeptical once-over before continuing. “Just to deliver a message. Ghost says that he’ll visit you tomorrow as per your request.” Scorch’s heart skipped a beat excitedly. Finally, the old man had come to his senses! Despite her sudden eagerness to get up and run, she managed to keep her composure.

“Thank you, Jagg,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Jagg shuffled, glanced over her shoulder again, and said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Scorch replied. Jagg laughed a little, ears twitching back sheepishly.

“Right. Sorry,” she said. “I was just wondering… What do you think of Ghost?”

Scorch raised her brows. “Oh, dear. He’s not after you now, is he?”

“A-after me?” laughed Jagg.

“Yeah, you know,” she waved a paw, “flirting, pestering, acting like you're the only girl in the world?”

Jagg frowned. “Yeah. But I mean… He seems genuine. It’s not like he doesn’t care about me at all. I mean, there are plenty of guys who act way worse.”

“And plenty who are better,” Scorch huffed. “You want my real opinion on Ghost? He’s a stubborn old man who only cares about himself. Sure, he’s not a total bastard, but he’s also not going to look out for you when push comes to shove. Only you can do that. If he still seems worth the effort after that then knock yourself out but don’t be surprised when he moves on to the next pretty girl he sees.”

Jagg nodded, seeming deep in thought. “Gotcha. Thanks, Gingersnap. Your grace.”

“Don’t mention it,” Scorch purred. “Let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

“Will do,” Jagg smiled. She gave a dip of her head and then slipped off the ledge and disappeared into the shrubbery.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Newleaf #Scorchplume #Jagg #Ghost #clangenrising

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shalotttower · 1 month

Text

Cultivating Flowers

Title: Cultivating Flowers

Fandom: Original

Summary: Marquis is a man of many interests, including gardening. Specifically, his new roses.

Word count: 3500+

Characters: OC!Marquis x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere!OC, manipulation, animal cruelty (not detailed, briefly described), seduction.

The first bloom appears two weeks after spring starts and it's the most glorious flower in all Marquis' garden. Gentle apricot color, like your favourite dress. You were saving for months — a whole autumn — and grandfather grumbled and grumbled about the frivolous waste of money, but once you finally put it on, his scolding didn't matter a bit. The dress made you feel like royalty — elegant, graceful, important.

You wonder if this is how Marquis feels all the time.

Gorgeous outfits, a splendid castle, a life of aristocracy and ease where everything is taken care of by servants and every other weekend there's an opulent dinner party full of refined conversations.

Your envy for him is almost as big as your caution.

Marquis Nicolae is rich. Like many rich people he possesses time. And when one has too much, they become terribly, infinitely bored. That's what grandfather told you in one of his drunken rants: people who are rich, castle-rich, private carriage-rich for generations are bored like nobody else, because nothing is scarce to them and so nothing is precious either. Work for them. Take their money. Keep your head low and remember — they don't see us like we see them.

Grandfather doesn't work in the castle anymore. He's got old hands which shake from years of physical labour and fruit brandy, back-aching hunched posture and swollen feet that need rest. Now he stays at home, waiting for you to return with stories and bread rolls baked by the cook.

He used to serve Marquis Nicolae's father, who was twice as rich, but thrice as wicked, according to grandfather's words.

"I was a stableman, your grandmother was a seamstress, God rest her soul. Sewed all my shirts, this one included," he tugs at the fabric with pride. "She did well on it... Look at those stitches."

For a moment he gets lost in muttering and rubs his index finger on an even patch of stitched fabric, as if hoping his touch can conjure a spectre. "Not like now, where clothes fall apart after just three seasons. Quality... Sturdiness," he smacks the table. "People used to think long term. Made their shirts for decades, strong like this."

Grandfather is forgetful these days, he leaps from one topic to another and loses the main line of thought, especially after a few glasses. But you wait.

"When I worked for Lord Cazimir, you see," he says finally. "He had horses, all strong, sleek, looked like jewels. A new horse each two months, said it wasn't right for a gentleman to have one for too long, but by God, I never saw a man treat them worse than him. Not enough sleep, ridden until bones hurt. If the carriage hit a stone, it was the horse's fault, if the reins got tangled it was the horse's fault, not the bloody driver. He had that whip with metal feathers which could cut through an apple. And before he made the last swish, he'd pause. Look the horse in the eyes. That was the scariest thing, how he stared at them, so calmly."

He glances at you, as if fearing an admonishment. For what? You wonder how it felt, caring for something that looked like a jewel time after time, after time, and knowing the goodbye was certain and inevitable, like a turn of a watermill wheel. Did grandfather mourn the horses? Or did he get used to burying their bodies under the soil? Maybe they fed someone later — people who don't have much are resourceful, they don't bury good meat.

You squeeze the water from the sheet in silence.

"None simply lived past two months, that's why he changed them so often."

"Why didn't you quit?"

"And then do what?" Grandfather snorts. "There was little job outside the castle, everyone who didn't have land or livestock worked for Marquis one way or another."

"It must have been difficult."

"Life is difficult," he answers, and you can't disagree.

Life is difficult, that's a fact, and it didn't get better when you started working for Marquis Nicolae yourself. A good thing is that unlike Lord Cazimir from scare stories he doesn't torment horses and rarely pays attention to anybody in a servant uniform. All of you share the same mindset: a quick "Good morning, m'lord" or "Have a pleasant day, m'lord" and then being gone as fast as possible.

Rumors circulate that Marquis never once had a full smile on his face. Charming chuckles when he's in a good mood, courtly lips stretches for ladies, bemused sneers when he's addressed by those who used to be in favour but now are out — yes, but the genuine and full-hearted joy: nobody has witnessed it.

He doesn't seem unhappy though, nor he is too serious. When you see him Marquis Nicolae always looks like he has eternity at hand and there's no hurry to spend it. To you, he is uninterested in anything and sharp about everything at once.

You can't describe him better. Words fail you when trying to fit him into boxes of easy understanding. But after all, it's not your job to fit him anywhere, your job is dusting shelves and scrubbing floors, and, since recent days — taking care of roses.

It's unusual for the castle to have such plants this early in spring. They're imported, said the gardener, from cooler places and prefer winter over the blooming season of May and June. That's why Marquis commissioned a greenhouse construction weeks prior, to have beautiful flowers which can bloom regardless of the weather. It took an entire month of hard work, people hired from nearby towns and a promise of good money. You watched them build from the kitchen window where you were helping with meals.

Roses arrived next. Seven bushes filled with buds ready to open up any day. And oh they did. Soft apricot colors covered stems like dewdrops, beautiful enough to make one gasp.

One morning you bring your rag and a bucket to the greenhouse a bit earlier to enjoy the fragrance before breakfast is served. Nice things like these are not for maids like you — the petal scent and the gentle touch of leaves — they're for ladies in beautiful dresses who have time and luxury to appreciate them, but nobody will know anyway if you stop to lean down close enough for your nose to almost bury itself in velvety softness. It's a small indulgence which can hardly hurt anyone. Nobody will know if you pretend to be a lady just for a minute.

"They're quite extraordinary, aren't they."

You freeze, nose in the middle of the rose bush.

"I- Yes", you straighten up and curtsy. "They are most beautiful, m'lord."

Marquis' figure, backlit by the morning sun, casts a shadow which stretches far beyond your own feet.

"Do you know why I chose it?" he asks. "This breed."

He's dressed in a dark waistcoat with delicate embroidery on the collar and doesn't have a single hair out of place, not a strand too thick, not a strand too thin; as flawless as a painting which hang on the walls of his library, but not as solemn. Those paintings seem to measure everyone around them. Marquis Nicolae looks more approachable in appearance, and that's where the approachability ends. His eyes, burgundy brown colour you've never seen before, measure people too, in value rather than worthlessness.

You shake your head, "No, m'lord."

"Because," Marquis continues without minding your answer at all, "it's pretty."

His lips stretch in a courtly smile of a gentleman who is amused by his own joke. You don't understand it but smile in return anyway, because you must. Because this is how the world works — nobles are amused and maids fake understanding so the amusement can persist a little longer.

"Go on," he says. "They are meant to be smelled after all."

You nod and curtsy again.

Later he will be served tea at the ornate greenhouse table while you scrub the floors until your fingers ache. Marquis' focus will shift towards letters, and this is how it's supposed to be. Him reading correspondence, you being invisible like dust under the shelves you clean. It feels better when he doesn't look at you with those eyes of his. They pierce through everything they see.

There's something wrong about him. But you can't tell what yet.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Life is monotonous, especially in a place like this, even banquets and events have that homogeneous taste, because there's at least one every three weeks, not speaking of brunches which rotate regularly depending on who's currently in Marquis' favour. You serve dishes full of rich fragrances that make your mouth water but can't ever dream of trying them. Meat dripping with wine sauce, roasted chicken breasts wrapped in crispy bacon and glazed with honey syrup. Fresh fruits coated in powdered sugar. Sometimes in the evening when everyone is asleep you mouth the names of those meals: "Beef Bourguignon," "Veal Piccata", "Chicken Florentine". Those foreign words are hard to pronounce — Beef Boo-gee-nyon, Veel Pick-kata — you do it quietly and mostly in your head so grandfather doesn't hear and scoff about wasting time on useless things.

"You're not starving," he would say. "There's bread, there's soup, you don't need those. Be happy, girl. We used to eat potatoes for months straight during famines."

You've never been hungry enough to know what famine tastes like but suspect that the flavor must be something similar to the dull feeling between the busy hours of work, which gnaws at you and makes your thoughts drift to the lunch break.

Sometimes, in a particularly sour mood he adds, "Don't stuff your head with fancy nonsense you can't have, it's only gonna make you bitter."

True.

You're a maid. A girl. A nobody.

And this is how it's supposed to be.

How to tell grandfather that you don't wish to be fancy? Just to try once the roast duck stuffed with grapes and apples, or fresh sardines baked in butter sauce, which smell heavenly as they're carried up the stairs to Marquis Nicolae's salon where guests are gathered.

How to tell him that it's not about food, not really.

It's about knowing what an apricot rose smells like early in the morning while others sleep. How velvety its petals feel when touched. Delicate things like these you're not supposed to have, but do anyway, because a moment stolen out of monotony pulls you from beneath the apron. You, yourself, not just a pair of hands with tired fingers, exist briefly when roses bloom in Marquis' greenhouse and a little piece of yesterday's cake is smuggled into your pocket.

You understand why he's wary. Grandfather's right: with longing comes bitterness. But you're careful not to overdo it. There's only one stolen minute of appreciation each day, not more, so you remember who you are — someone meant to be seen rarely and unnoticed most of the time — and return behind the apron.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Spring goes on.

Daylight stretches a little longer. Ground gets a little warmer. Marquis Nicolae often spends time in his private study after breakfast, then at noon — in the greenhouse. He strolls there among the greenery or sits by one of the tables with a book. Reading seems to be an activity he favors, and unlike some other gentlemen who grow tired within pages Marquis can stay completely still for hours without once getting restless.

You know because you watch him from the corner of your eye.

What kind of books he likes to read if they manage to keep him entertained for such lengthy periods, what titles do those leather spines hide, which stories are good enough for a gentleman like Marquis? He always seems so politely disinterested. You wonder if there are books that can make even him laugh.

Sometimes he asks you questions which startle you.

"Have you read 'The Castle of the Lady'? It's a novel."

You shake your head. "No m'lord. I can't read."

His eyebrows raise. Not in astonishment, Marquis Nicolae has a face of a man who rarely encounters surprises, his reactions are akin to mild interest bordering on curiosity, as if he enjoys discovering something new, something that doesn't fit into his existing assumptions.

"Can't?" he repeats.

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, "No, m'lord. Never learnt."

"Who raised you?"

"My grandfather. He's a stableman... was. Now retired".

"I see," he returns to his book.

You fidget with a rag in your hands, why does he care to ask such question? What difference does it make whether you read or don't? It's not that uncommon. Most servants only know the basics, letters which form their names and the ones that stand for numbers. You don't really need the skill. What for?

"You may continue," he adds.

So you do.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Are you the only child?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"Your mother? Father?"

"My mother passed away giving birth to me, and father was a soldier, so he died in a war."

"What a shame," Marquis says, but it sounds like a comment on bad weather.

You're standing with fresh linens in his opulent bedchamber. It's spacious: tall windows and furniture made of rare wood. Old, like the walls of Albastru castle itself. A maid's life story is neither interesting nor important enough to pursue it, at least not in the place like this. Marquis Nicolae is bored, that's the most reasonable explanation to the current arrangement. He's looking for entertainment, but what entertainment can come at your expense, you're unsure.

Grandfather warned you not to draw too much attention, but it's not exactly your fault. Marquis' schedule is well known — he spends evenings in the salon and retires long past midnight. The chamber should've been empty. You should've been able to change his bedding, clean the fireplace and leave without as much as a sound.

Yet here he is, in a high armchair by the fireplace.

And here you are, in front of him, waiting for a dismissal that doesn't come.

On a small coffee table there're squares with simple pictures — a dog, a cat, an apple, made of thin wood with letters engraved in black ink. You step from one foot to the other, the lemon-scented sheets hide the way your fingers twitch.

Marquis traces a square with a rose.

"Sit down," he says and motions to the other chair.

"Your linens, m'lord-"

"They can wait."

No, they can't, you think. The bedding needs to be done, the fireplace cleaned, carpets swept, wilted flowers removed — there's so much to do to linger, and it's already getting late. If you're not able to finish on time-

But Marquis Nicolae didn't give you permission to leave.

You sit and put the linens on your lap.

Grandfather would say that Marquis enjoys the sight of your discomfort behind that courtly smile of his, but he doesn't look amused, he looks the usual. Calm and slightly disinterested. Sharp, despite being relaxed.

"If you figure out what letters stand from this," he points at the apple picture square, "to this one," then moves his finger to the picture with a goat, "you'll get a treat."

"M'lord?" you frown.

There must be something wrong with your hearing, but no, Marquis leans back and crosses his long legs. "A treat."

Treats are for children, treats are for dogs, treats are for horses who are obedient and look like jewels. You stare at him, puzzled, but try not to let it show; nobles have strange hobbies sometimes: races which cost thousands of gold coins for one bet alone, hunting dangerous animals, forcing their servants into duels to pass time. This must be one of those, an entertainment beyond your comprehension.

Still, time is moving forward and the complexity of your situation is becoming more apparent with every passing second; you've never felt particularly powerful — why would you? — but now you're acutely aware of how fragile one's position is when it depends on someone else's whims.

You take the first picture.

An apple. Letter A. Then a ball — B. Cat... So that's what they look like written down.

Marquis' eyes follow your fingers as they slide across the wooden squares, you feel his gaze like a touch, even though there's a coffee table distance between you and a bit more. You quietly mouth each word and letter by habit, unaware of this little detail. His eyebrows raise, this time with a hint of amusement which you don't see, too focused on your predicament.

Dog — D.

The clock is ticking.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Well?" Marquis asks later when shadows cross the room. The sun is gone, the fire in the fireplace burns lower but bright enough to illuminate the space. Sitting like this has given you a headache which makes thinking harder.

"I have them figured out m'lord", you say carefully.

"Tell me then."

"This is A," you slide the apple towards him across the table. It feels a little silly. "This is B."

The way you say them isn't quite accurate. It's "bee" instead of "b" and "dee" instead of "d", but he doesn't tell you that. Your voice goes quieter with each following letter, perhaps because you're nervous or maybe simply tired — who knows what time it is by now? Ah, quarter to ten. He watches you struggle with spelling and pronunciation until finally there they are. All squares from Apple to Goat, in order just like he arranged them.

"What about this one?" Nicolae points to the playing cat.

"It starts with 'K', m'lord."

You're quite sure, not that much variation is left after all, and say it with the most conviction you can muster so he would finally be satisfied and end this odd game. Your head hurts and stomach grumbles with hunger — there was no time for the lunchbreak today —both physical and mental exhaustion blur together.

Grandfather must be worried sick by now, he hates when you're late without telling anything beforehand.

Then Marquis covers his mouth, and for the first time since you entered Albastru castle, laughs.

Not chuckles. Not smiles without smiling. Laughs that his shoulders shake, that his eyes crinkle at the corners. You stare bewildered, not knowing what to do. Laugh yourself? Smile politely? Say "m'lord" again?

Marquis' laughter dies down eventually and he collects himself, straightening his waistcoat which doesn't require any adjusting in the first place, he's perfect as always.

"No, that's C."

Your cheeks flush red, how were you supposed to know? It would seem that a gentleman such as Marquis Nicolae should know better than mocking someone's lack of education, but apparently he finds it amusing. You lower your gaze and look away.

"How are you called?" he asks.

After a pause your name rolls off your tongue; small in his bedchamber, it barely leaves an echo.

"Well, I said a treat, didn't I?"

You don't want any treats, or to spend here even a minute longer; Marquis rises and walks towards his desk.

"Come here."

Reluctantly you stand up and follow him. The linens are left on the chair in a crumpled pile, they need ironing now. There's nothing to do other than obeying so you stop next to him where he opens one of the drawers. Inside you can see something wrapped in white paper with a thin ribbon bow around it. He takes the item out and pulls the ribbon off. Delicate scent fills the air, the little cakes, you know their name from the cook ─ macarons ─ bloom inside the wrapping.

Marquis Nicolae picks one up with two fingers and brings it to your lips.

The macarons smell sweet like almonds and look beautiful like roses in his greenhouse. They're not for maids, you think, no, this is...he shouldn't be doing that.

Your mouth waters anyway.

His eyes don't leave your face, "Do you want it or not?"

You do.

"Then take a bite."

The dessert melts in your mouth instantly. Its texture is soft, like petals, like everything else luxurious you've never had but imagined countless times. A little chewy, a bit crunchy, it's the most delicious thing you've tried, better than a piece of cake taken from the kitchen pantry, better than honeyed walnut bread.

"Another one?"

Marquis Nicolae feeds you two more, before you realize what exactly is happening — a bite by a small bite your dignity dissolves into his hand. You swallow the last morsel and quickly step back; you've forgotten yourself, forgot who you were and where, and now there's sweetness lingering on your tongue, while Marquise' fingertips smell faintly of apricot.

What have you done?

He looks amused again.

"Thank you, m'lord," you curtsy, then turn around to gather the discarded sheets.

"Clean the fireplace and change the linens. Then you might be free."

"Yes, m'lord."

It's a dismissal at last.

Marquis sits down and reaches for a book — he's done with you it seems — so you hurry to complete the assigned tasks. The fireplace isn't too dirty fortunately, just some ashes and coal leftovers. Next, the sheets, then the flowers.

Before you close the door and rush down the empty hall he speaks again, "If you still remember them all by tomorrow evening, you'll have another treat."

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #original character #original work #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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last-herondale · 1 year

Text

Help Me Understand

Loki x FemReader!

Angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff Warnings: Mentions of abuse, self deprecation, feelings of unworthiness

This fic takes place during Dark World. (I didn't particularly like the movie, but we were blessed with scenes of Loki so...) Summary: The reader is a handmaid of the castle, assigned by Frigga to take care of a special prisoner. While you tend to Loki, you slowly begin to learn more about the "Would-be King of Earth".

A/n: Here is the Loki fic that i promised in my poll! I hope you like it! I had fun with this one.

Enjoy 🤘🏼

“Could you cease with your incessant humming?” Loki hissed from across the room.

He sat against the wall of his cell, not bothering to look up from his book as he spoke to you. You ignored him, continuing your tune as you attended to your duties. Maiden’s work was not a particular favorite job of yours, but Queen Frigga had requested for you personally to see to Loki’s new… living arrangements.

You had just finished putting fresh linens on his bed, placing clean clothes into his wardrobe, and began to tidy up his mess of books that were strewed about the place. You continued to hum as you worked, delicately placing the books into their proper shelves.

Finally, you heard the soft slamming of a book, and a loud sigh from behind you. “Must you always be so irritating?”

“Insulting me will not make me leave any faster, your grace,” you say simply as you finish tidying up. You turn around to him and are met with an icy stare. “In fact,” you mused, “I may decide that these floors need waxing, and gods know how long that might take me.”

A flicker of something crossed Loki’s face, but you were unable to detect what it was before he turned his face back towards his book. He didn’t open it again, but rather he let his fingers caress the pages gently. You found yourself watching him for longer than necessary, and heat flooded your cheeks as you turned away. You gathered up the old sheets and began to make your way to the exit when his voice cut through the silence. “Why do you still call me that?”

You halted mid-step, blinking in surprise at the question. “Call you what, your grace?”

“That,” Loki said bitterly, “Your Grace. You of all people should know by now. I am a prisoner. I have no place here.”

You froze in place. In the few days you had worked here, Loki had hardly spoken to you, let alone discuss his imprisonment. You slowly turned to face him, being careful to guard your emotions. Loki looked to you expectantly, an eerie calm washed over his face as he waited for you to respond.

"You are still a Prince," you replied carefully, "And I was taught to always formally address those of higher status."

Loki gave a bitter laugh. "Naive little thing, aren't you? Save your pleasantries for when you leave this cell, I have no need for them, and you'll not win any favor with the All Father by being cordial with me."

You narrowed your eyes at the god. You had heard rumors of his nature all your life. The Mischievous son, the silver tonged viper, the fallen god. Stories of his rampage on Earth had spread like wildfire. You had wondered how much of them were true, if he really was the villain everyone seemed to think he was.

You straightened your posture, tilting your head a bit higher. You refused to be intimidated by him, no matter what you might have heard. "It is not for your benefit, believe me. I am in the service of your mother, not Odin, and it is on her behest that I show you this simple act of courtesy, whether you are deserving of it or not. Now if you will excuse me, your grace," you spun on your heel and exited the room, leaving Loki glaring after you.

The next few days passed by without issue. You attended to your duties in a diligent manner, always bringing Loki his meals on time, cleaning his cell, and bringing him books that his mother had sent with you. Loki kept his distance, for the most part. He couldn't help but mutter the occasionally bitter phrase at you, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. Frigga was grateful to you for your service. The other maidens were too frightened of Loki to take the job, and you were Frigga's last hope. For what, you were not certain.

It was dinner time now. You carried a platter of food down into the cells, taking pleasure in the smell of freshly baked bread and stew meat. A guard let you into the cell without question. You thanked him as you entered and was unsurprised to see Loki lounging in a chair, book in hand. He had his hair tied back into a messy bun, a few of his dark strands lingered on his face, almost kissing his cheekbones.

You cleared your throat, watching as his eyes flickered up briefly from his book to look at you. "I have brought your dinner," you said. You placed the plate on a small table that sat on the opposite side of the room, being careful to move some scattered books and parchment. As you turned, books in hand, you nearly bumped into him as he stood beside you. "Watch it!" you snapped. Immediately you bit your lip.

A smirk spread across Loki's face, as if he could read you like one of his books. "My, my," he mused, "Not as cordial as we usually are, are we?" Warmth heated your face as you pushed past him, eager to be done with your job. “My apologies,” you muttered. Loki just snorted as you began to put away the books in their proper place.

"And what have you brought me today, my gracious lady?" Loki mocked as he lifted the lid from the container.

"Lamb stew, your grace," you replied with a sour tone. You finished putting the books away and turned to face him. You were caught off guard by the sight of him. He stood rigidly over the plate, giving a distant stare into the bowl. “Is something wrong?” You asked.

Loki remained silent as he slipped into the dining chair. He clasped his hands together in a tight ball, and leaned his head into them. Slowly, you made your way closer to the table. You peaked your head over the bowl to make sure nothing was amiss.

“My mother made this, didn’t she?” He asked weakly.

“I’m not sure your gr—“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Loki slammed his hands down onto the table, causing the bowl to go spilling all over the table. Loki rose from his seat so fast that the chair knocked backwards. “Does she take me for a fool? Does she honestly think that she can win my sympathy by bringing me books, cooking my favorite meals, sending some broad to tend to me each day?”

Your blood felt like ice in your veins. Loki looked at you as if you were some kind of monster. His eyes seemed wild, but there was a sadness in his expression that he couldn’t hide. He caught you staring, and he gave a low snarl as he charged toward you. You stood your ground, stiffening your back as he stuck a finger in your face.

“You tell my mother— the next time you grovel at her feet— that I don’t need her pity. She needs to accept how things are now— how things have always been..." he took a ragged breath. The heat of him radiated around you. He inched ever closer to you, his forehead nearly touching yours as he hissed. "I don’t need her— and I most certainly do not need you.”

“Is that all?” You asked calmly. Loki’s expression looked murderous, but you just turned around and began to clean the table. You gathered the tray, putting everything back as best as you could as you made your way to the exit. You hesitated before leaving, turning back to look at Loki. He had thrown himself into one of the armchairs, holding his head in his hand as his body heaved with deep breaths.

You sighed a soft breath and placed the tray down on the floor. You didn’t understand why you were doing what you were doing. All you knew is that you were walking across the room, sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked up at you with tear brimmed eyes. Your presence shocked him, that you were certain. He had to mold his expression into one more hostile to fit the façade, but instead he just looked… broken.

There was a pang in your chest when you looked at him. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself.

“Firstly,” you began in a gentle voice, “I will expect an apology for your earlier comment before I leave.” Loki opened his mouth to speak but you quickly interrupted. “Secondly, your mother is one of the few people in Asgard— possibly in the universe— that truly cares about you. You are her son, and she loves you unconditionally, despite whatever might have happened in your past. You would do well to remember that.”

He just stared at you with a wavering intensity. “You don’t know anything,” he muttered. “Perhaps not,” you shrugged, “but what I do know is that you do not frighten me. If your goal is to scare me away or anger me to the point of insanity-- I’m afraid you’ll fail. But there is little use in making my job more difficult than it needs to be, so out with it."

Loki furrowed his brow. "I don't-" "Look, neither one of us wants to be in this situation. Clearly, you are upset— either with your circumstances, the Queen, or me I don’t care, but for the sake of both of our sanity, I think its best we clear the air."

Loki scoffed. "This is ridiculous." "No, what is ridiculous is throwing a fit over perfectly fine stew," you muttered, letting a small smile escape your lips. Loki studied you, taking a large sigh as he rubbed his temples. "You are quite irritating," Loki muttered.

You took that as a victory and nodded. "It does not have to be today. We can begin tomorrow, when I bring you your breakfast." You stood up from his bed and made your way to the exit, picking up the tray once more. “Think on it, your Grace. I believe it could do us both some good… this cell can feel lonely for just about anyone, but it doesn’t have to be.”

You signaled for the guard to open the door. Just as you were about to step out, you heard his low voice echo behind you.

"I apologize," Loki began in a soft tone, "for my behavior this evening. My words were- unbecoming to say the least, my lady." He said the last words with a sour tone, but there was the faint whisper of a smile on his lips. You turned to him and gave a small bow with your head just before leaving the cell.

As promised, the next morning you came, breakfast in hand. This time you requested that two portions be prepared. You wanted Loki to feel as normal as possible, so you joined him for breakfast. At first he seemed amused when you took a seat at the table in front of him, a sly smile inching across his face as you served yourself from the platter. "Aren't you going to eat?" you mused, filling your plate with meats and eggs, "I will eat this entire thing if you don't." Eventually he shrugged and also began to dig in.

You were surprised by how easy it was to talk with him. It was as if you had always known each other. Once the conversation began, which took some encouragement from your end, it never seemed to stop. Loki had a deep love for books and theater, and you quite enjoyed listening to him recount his favorite plays from the royal theater. The two of you talked about your childhood, the fond memories of Asgard in your youths. Loki spoke of Thor often, even though he seemed to try to avoid him as much as possible. You could tell he loved his brother, despite their complicated history. Loki refused to talk about his father, the memories still perhaps too painful for him, and so you didn’t push.

You listened to every word, not out of duty or obligation, but out of curiosity. It was an odd wonder to pick the brain of the crowned prince. The mental images that you held of him from past rumors were starting to fade. A clearer picture was being painted and the menacing god before you was beginning to become a man. He would listen to you as well. Loki would ask you questions as you worked, and he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

Days passed like this. You now ate every meal with Loki. The two of you filled the empty silence with chatter and sometimes laughter. You viewed each time you made him laugh as a victory and he enjoyed teasing you to the point of making you red in the face. His demeanor towards you changed. Slowly, his snippy remarks began to dwindle and he seemed to smile more, although you couldn’t be sure if it was because of your company.

Not all days were good. Some days Loki would be in one of his horrid moods. You came to the cell one day to find most of his furniture overturned. His cell was a wreck and Loki seemed to mirror his room. His hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles hung under his eyes. Part of you wanted to get angry with him. To yell, to curse, to hit at him for making you clean up after him. But you didn’t. There was still that lingering sadness in his eyes, hidden behind the slyness. You could see he was hurting in ways you couldn’t imagine and so you took it in stride.

He would apologize once his episodes would end. He would read to you from his favorite books, as a sort of peace offering, or make sure to clean up immediately after your meals so that you wouldn’t have to. You never forgave him out loud, but he must have known you didn’t hate him too much because you kept returning. Day after day.

One night you returned to bring him dinner and you could tell he was in one of his dark moods. He hadn’t destroyed himself or the room, thank god, but you could sense the change in his demeanor as he ate. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or shall we continue this night in silence?” You meant it as a friendly nudge. You knew sometimes playful taunts could pull him out of his darkness, but instead he just shook his head.

“I think I would prefer to be alone tonight. Your presence is not needed.” He stood up from the table and walked to his reading chair where he plopped down. Normally, you would have obliged and left, but something was nagging at the back of your mind. A silent command. Stay.

You rose from your seat and slowly made your way towards him. He watched you move closer, his weary eyes seemed to brighten as you took your seat across from him at the edge of his bed. “Something is troubling you,” you say softly, “Please, let me help you.” Loki’s face became unbearably soft as he looked at you with complete tenderness. “You can’t. I’m haunted… the things I’ve done…” he placed his head in his hands and shuddered.

“Loki,” you said gently as you reached over and placed a hand on his knee, “I think it’s time you told me about New York.” Loki lifted his head to look at you. He looked pained at the mention of his biggest failure. He had refused to mention it, and you had been careful to avoid the subject. But you couldn’t stand to see him so broken. Maybe if he talked about it…

“If I told you what happened,” he began slowly. He took your hand off of his knee and held it in his hand gently, looking at it rather than you, using the tips of his fingers to trace the lines on your palm, “you might very well hate me.” A shiver ran down your spine as he touched you. He looked up at you again, his tired eyes searched yours.

“Would it matter if I did?” You asked. Loki gave a shaky laugh, “Perhaps not, but I don’t want this to be the story that scares you away. I was actually starting to enjoy your company.”

You felt a lump in your throat. "I told you before... I am not easily frightened." Loki realized there was no swaying you, or perhaps he needed the outlet. Maybe he could no longer hold back the secrets that haunted him.

He let go of your hand, almost unwillingly, and watched as you slowly pulled it back to rest in your lap. He took a ragged breath, waiting a moment, as if to savor the last moment of normalcy between the two of you. A part of you feared what his story entailed. What had truly happened on Earth?

After he finished his story, he finally looked up at you to gage your reaction. You had your hands balled into fists, and they trembled slightly in your lap. Loki noticed them immediately and his face went a little slack. "I'm sorry," he muttered. You blinked at his words. "Sorry? Loki—" you struggled to find the words. A million thoughts were racing through your mind, making you almost dizzy as you tried to formulate a response.

Before you could do so, Loki rose from his chair and began to pace the room. "I realize it's too late for apologies, for all of the wrongs I've done, but you wanted the truth and there it is. I am a monster. A frost giant dressed up as a Prince, an unworthy son, a villain— I am all of those things, and look at you now. Scared of me for it."

"Scared?" You demanded. "You think I'm scared of you? Loki," you stood up from where you were sitting and stepped towards him until he stood only a foot away. "Loki, I am angry for you." Loki was the one to blink in surprise this time. "What?" he gawked. “You were lied to… your whole life. Pitted against your brother for something so trivial as a throne…” You shook your head at the thought of Loki’s story. How much pain had Odin caused? “And then there’s Earth…” You took a step closer to Loki, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him.

"Loki—Thanos tortured you, manipulated you into overtaking Earth for him... How can you not see that?" Loki remained silent as you continued. "He should be here in these cells, rotting away for his crimes, not you. If you told Odin, maybe he would-"

"NO!" Loki shouted, "My father cannot know about Thanos. You have no idea what the Titan is capable of y/n, he would bring his armies to destroy Asgard." You threw up your hands in frustration. "But this may be the very thing needed to set you free! Help Odin find Thanos, help lead Thor and his Avengers to him and let real justice be done. Your mother would see to it, I know she would. Anything that could grant you your freedom." Ideas flooded your head. Perhaps there was a way to free Loki from his prison. You didn't realize how much you wanted this to be a reality until now. But now you had all of the facts. Loki did not act alone. Loki was not the one to be facing punishment.

"Don't," Loki croaked in front of you. You stilled for a moment, the hope that was rising through your chest was sharply cut off by the look on his face. He had no intention of fighting. "It is kind of you to have such sympathy for me, but it is undeserved. Thanos might have had a hand in the siege of Earth, but it was my hand that held the scepter, my hand that took those lives. And I will not risk losing Asgard by provoking Thanos any further than I already have. My mere presence here is damming enough."

“And so what, you’re just going to stay here? Locked away for the rest of your life? Is that what you want?” You asked incredulously. Loki just gave a dry laugh. “I hardly get what I want,” he looked at you, his eyes glimmered for a moment as he searched your face, “But believe me, it’s what I deserve.”

You crossed your arms in defiance. You couldn’t believe how easily he was willing to just give up. He noticed your posture and flashed a small smile. “Such a fiery thing,” he mused. He held out his hand toward you, and slowly you slipped your hand into his as he pulled you towards his living area. He motioned for you to sit down in his armchair as he slid into his bed. “Let’s not end the night with us bickering. Come, I’ll read to you a while before you leave.”

He pulled out a book from his shelf and began to dip through the pages. You let yourself relax a bit in the chair. If he didn’t want to talk about it anymore tonight, fine. But you had no intentions of keeping quiet once you left this cell. “What would you want?” You asked softly. Loki arched his brows at the question. “You said before that you hardly ever get what you want. So what would you want? What’s something I can do?” Playfulness danced in his eyes. “I could think of a few things that you could do,” he murmured, a grin inching across his face. You rolled your eyes, and ignored the flush of your cheeks.

Loki’s face softened, and the mischievous demeanor slipped away. “If I could have anything,” he began slowly, taking care to articulate his words almost as if he were nervous. “I wouldn’t want to be alone tonight. You can’t imagine how— eerie this place feels at night. It can be soul crushing.” You blinked at him. He seemed serious in his words, and your heart lurched a bit in your chest. This was something you could do. You rose from the chair and hurried across the room to the cell door. You turned to Loki, your breathing uneven as you enacted your plan. “I’ll return soon, trust me.” He just gave you a small confused nod of his head as you slipped out of the cell.

Returning had been as difficult as you imagined. First, you had your daily check in with Frigga. She asked about Loki, and if he needed any more books, or clothes, even if he enjoyed the food. She had been pleased to hear that you joined him for meals, that you treated him as an actual person. You wanted to tell her everything that Loki had relayed to you, but now was not the time. You had made a promise.

Sneaking back into the cell was another matter. You had to wait for the guard change during lights out to slip back into the cell. You were careful to not knock anything over in the dark as you stumbled toward Loki’s room. “Loki—“ you began to say as your foot snagged on a edge of a rug. Hands were holding you before you could even Yelp, steadying you in the darkness. “You came,” Loki’s low voice hummed in your ear. “I said I would.”

Your eyes began to adjust to the darkness in the room. Loki had been right. It was eerie here at night. You imagined how being alone with your thoughts in this kind of darkness could lead someone to madness. Loki kept a hand on your shoulder as you felt around for the bed. You had returned in your nightwear, wrapping a dark cloak around yourself as you snuck through the castle. You removed the cloak and inched your way into Loki’s bed, ignoring the pounding in your head as you did so. You felt him lay beside you, the heat of him warmed your side as you stared blankly into the darkness. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“I could get in trouble for this,” you replied in the same hushed whisper, “They might throw me in one of these cells if they catch me.” You felt Loki laugh beside you. It was odd to be so close to him, especially in the engulfing darkness. It felt like energy buzzed around you. As if you were in a vacuum of space, floating along aimlessly in the darkness. At least you weren’t alone.

“How could you get in trouble? Clearly, you were seduced by the imprisoned prince with his quick words and stunning looks. After tending to me every day, it was only inevitable that you would fall victim to my charm.” This time you found yourself laughing, taking care to cover your mouth as you did so. “I guess that would be the easier explanation as to why they’ll find me in your bed,” you teased. You let your hand fall from your mouth back to your side, but accidentally put it in top on Loki’s. At first you went to move it immediately, but stopped when you felt the curve of his fingers hook around yours.

“Loki-“ you warned. “What is that song you’re always humming?” Loki asked quietly, letting his hand wrap around yours. His fingers intertwined with yours and you did not pull away. “It’s a lullaby,” you finally respond, “my mother would sing it to me as a child. It calms me.” Loki strummed his thumb over your hand but did not move outside of that. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you stared into the darkness. “While I am making a habit of being selfish tonight, can I ask one more thing of you?” Loki asked.

“Sure,” you whispered, feeling your voice choke up in your throat. “Would you hum it— the song?” You smirked in the darkness. “I thought you said it was incessant noise?” Loki just gave a small chuckle. “Perhaps it’s grown on me,” he murmured, “your silly little song.” Your eyelids felt droopy. The only thing that reminded you that you were awake was the soft touch of Loki’s hand in yours. You smiled, knowing he couldn’t see you and began to hum. You hummed until Loki’s breathing slowed into a soft rhythm, and his hand stilled in yours. You hummed until the darkness over took your senses, and your head nestled into the crook of the Prince’s neck.

#fem reader #reader x marvel #marvel fanfic club #marvel #loki fluff #reader x loki #mcu loki #mcu fanfiction #loki god of mischief #loki fanfic #loki #loki x you #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki and you #loki marvel

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

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So~ Arab!Reader has been living in my head and heart for a while now so I wanna share some Reader-isms that are closer to my own cultural experience (ignore this if it's annoying btw no hard feelings whatsoever)

-Her love language is arguing, has not met a hill she wouldn't die on. will sometimes get on the table or ask him to crouch down so they can look eye to eye as she fights tooth and nail over something she stopped caring about like 10 minutes ago but she's having too much fun. calls him "your majesty" or Sultan/Sheikh sarcastically in every argument.

-He told her to just buy candles instead of burning incense that produces so much smoke since "they do the same job anyway", she reacted like he just insulted her ancestors.

-Not a drinker but has a minor coffee/tea addiction, knows every cafe nearby by heart and has a whole set up at home, loves making him try new drinks she found online or from her childhood.

-Will take a million pictures of everything and especially him, doesn't matter what's happening, it must be recorded "for our grandbabies, habibi🥺"

-Desert camping trips!! König can start the fire while she's in charge of preparing tea and coffee. she's mostly excited about finding a dune buggy to rent for a day that's actually comfortable for his size, they ride until sunset when both of them are a sand covered giggling mess. finally they get to cuddle and star gaze, keeping each other safe from the cold desert nights.

-if they ever get married this is an inevitable conversation:

"Liebe, you said we are having a small wedding"

"Mhm"

"the guest list is 600 people minimum..?"

"...yes?"

poor guy, his saving grace is that men have a very small role in weddings here, just sit, take pictures, cut cake, then leave with your bride. no need to write vows, dance, or even kiss in front of people.

-NO PDA!! hand holding is the most they do in public and even that's scandalous sometimes. he tried to kiss her hand in a shop once and she pulled it back so fast he was pouty for like two days after the fact. He learns to appreciate this though because he can clearly tell when she's feeling possessive in public when she clings to his side, loves to tease her about it; "a hand on my lower back, schatz? how indecent of you"

-Cat-calls him as he's going out of the shower but only in Arabic, so he doesn't know how to respond to the wolf-whistles and enthusiastic yelling, the only reason he's sure it's positive is that he gets his face squished soon after, he can at least make out the stretched out word 'Habiiiibiiiiiiii~" Cue flustered mess König

-calls him her Antara, one of the most famous and celebrated warriors in Arabian history, who was also a great romantic and wrote so many poems about his beloved Abla. (Antara Ibn Shaddad, if anyone is curious)

Oh god I'm going feral I’m not even kidding ❤️‍🔥💀

The arguing thing would get soooo interesting because I think that König has an anxious/disorganized attachment style so he’d try to avoid any kind of arguments and disagreements with his woman. If König can’t tame his darling, he’ll just let her have her way so that he doesn't have to suffer from the sudden tightness in his chest.

But... If she’s doing shit like climbing on the table to stare him down, König wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. He'd soon relax into the situation and then start to tease her about her temper. Corrects his posture so that he's still taller than her, and gives her a warm, knowing smile :) His Liebling is so cute when she's angry.

And lol König would be suspicious about the incense, he’s not used to that kind of stuff at all, but he’ll be damned before he says anything. Discreetly tries to open the window sometimes but closes it immediately if darling walks into the room (no use, she already saw him and he's going to get an earful).

But omg no pda??? Very hard for König but he will respect your wishes in this. You can see it in his eyes that he’s being a bit of a sad sulking puppy about it, of course it all dissipates if you put that hand on his lower back... This will be like foreplay to him, you're a forbidden fruit until you two are behind closed doors, and if you “break the rules” while he’s playing nice then whoo. Prepare to get your guts rearranged when you get home!

Still, if König can’t kiss his bride at the wedding he’ll start a war. 600 guests is negotiable, as long as he can kiss her in front of everyone and declare her as his own.

#oh and the Antara part and the desert camping trip have me howling at the moon #longingly #I'M YEARNING #answered

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toast-tales · 1 month

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Cursed Cravings, Chapter 3: Master of the House

In which Danny meets the ever-so-charming owner of the strange mansion, and gets offered a deal to save her friend. Contains: ~2.1k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

At least screaming was out of the question, not while she seemed to barely be able to breathe in the first place. This was surreal. This wasn’t normal. But your eyes could only play so many tricks on you before you had to accept that what was standing before you was not an illusion, but a reality you had to face.

And face it she would.

“Hey,” she said simply, wondering if the giant man could even hear her from all the way across the entryway. Surely her voice would be nothing louder than the squeak of a mouse to him. “I’m looking for my friend Nathan. Someone…said they could help?”

If I just talk to him like a normal guy, it’s less scary, right? He’s just a normal guy. Danny was at least quite adept at taking her own fear and crushing it up into a ball, shoving it under the rug of feigned confidence. She forced her own stiff posture to loosen, her arms crossing over each other in as casual a manner as she could manage. A small part of her wondered if she should address him more formally, because based on his dress and the state of the manor alone he at least seemed important, but she didn’t know how rich people talked to each other anyways. She’d never gotten so much as a glimpse of high society, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have the patience for it. Certainly not now, when she’d been traveling all day in the cold and had nearly reached the end of her rope as it was.

The giant chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her before he stopped in the middle of the room, and though he was still a ways away, Danny still had to crane her neck upwards just to meet his eyes—dark, and dancing with humor along with an upturned smirk on his face. “Slow down there, doll. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.” It wasn’t the same voice she’d been hearing before—he spoke with a low, quiet pitch, each word articulated clearly and deliberately.

She repressed a grimace as best she could at the way he addressed her—despite her current stature and every survival instinct in her body, she felt the urge to punch him right in the gut.

He gestured lightly to himself with a graceful arch of his fingers against his chest. “My name is Christopher Penn, and I am the lord of this estate.”

He did not, however, ask Danny for her own name. Instead, he took a few more steps toward her and, so quickly that she did not have enough time to form an initial protest, he bent down and picked her up, placing her in his palm as he rose to his full height again.

For just a moment, she didn’t think about the fact that she was a hundred feet off the ground. All she could focus on was the absolutely unparalleled, brazen gall that this man had to just pluck her off the ground like she was some child’s toy. Her lips curled in an unfriendly snarl. “I don’t care who the fuck you are, but you’d better ask next time you try and pick me up like that.”

Being a little closer to his face now, she made note of the fact that this guy’s stupid big nose did look incredibly punchable. If only there wasn’t a hundred-foot drop between her and it.

She forced herself to keep her glare fixed entirely on Christopher, to prevent herself from looking down or showing signs of panic. She did not think about how strange it felt to have the warm surface beneath and behind her consist of a man’s entire hand, or how she could feel every groove and crease in the skin that her own hands pressed against.

“It’s not very becoming to begin a conversation with such vulgar language.” A sharp grin told her he was only amused by her antics, though, not offended—even so, he tilted his head, almost as if her behavior confused him as well.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she hissed. She was liking this strange giant less and less every time he opened his mouth. “I must have forgotten my manners midway through the air. Is that from the same rich person etiquette book that says it's okay to pick up people without asking?”

Irritation and anger were a great distraction from fear, and so she leaned into both now, regardless of the consequence. She had some small amount of pride to maintain, and quaking before this man in terror would only serve to shatter what remained of it.

He chuckled—a deep sound that she could almost feel travel through her body, now that she sat in his palms. “Sarcasm, hm? I’m impressed by your bravery. Most people tend to prefer screaming and running.”

“Oh, you’re telling me screaming is the usual response people have to you? Gee, I wonder why,” she said dryly. “Must be your natural charm.”

His sharp eyes flicked over her, a hint of their humor dulled slightly. “You said you were looking for your friend, correct?”

“Yes,” she groaned, exasperated. How many times had she said as much since finding this place? It was beginning to feel like the question was being deliberately dodged. “My friend, Nathan Hayes. He was traveling this way earlier this morning, and his horse returned without him. Have you seen him? Whoever spoke to me outside seemed to know where he was. Maybe you can just let me talk to them instead,” she grumbled quietly, trying to dampen her distaste for this stuck-up rich bastard as much as possible in the interest of acquiring any sort of help in finding Nathan. She couldn’t very well bite the hand that fed her—or, more accurately, picked her up and carried her at a height that would make even a high-flying bird a little nauseous.

Her instinct was to lash out at people who talked down to her, but even she knew when she needed to swallow her pride.

Something inscrutable passed across Christopher’s face for a moment as he seemed to absorb her words thoughtfully, as if she’d given him some clue in a particularly interesting mystery he was trying to solve. And then he gave her that sharp smile again, a grin that tipped just a little further than cordiality normally permitted. Yet it still didn’t reach his eyes—which regarded her in a strangely calculating, detached manner.

“There’s no need for that,” he remarked impassively. “Your friend is here.”

For just a moment, her irritation faded away to the overwhelming euphoria of relief, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her and washed it away in an instant. Nathan was here. She’d found him. He was—

Why was he here?

As suddenly as the relief had come, she covered it with a heavy cloak of suspicion, something beginning to claw at the back of her mind distrustfully. “...and you’ll take me to him, right? He’s safe? …we can leave?”

She didn’t like the idea of traveling at night, no, but she was in no rush to accept hospitality from this man, either. She would feel much better once all this magic, giant weirdness was far behind her, a forgotten tale she could think back on as some kind of fever dream brought on by the cold, or the fact that she couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last.

Christopher, to her dismay, lifted Danny a little higher so that she no longer had to tilt her head back to look at him straight on.

“I’m afraid not.”

Anger wasn’t even the first emotion to flare up this time—she was completely baffled by such a stark response that she was rendered speechless for a moment, staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. “...why?”

“Your friend came here uninvited this morning, trespassing into my home. His punishment is to remain here in my service, as long as I require him.” Christopher’s smirk turned to a more matter-of-fact expression, like the humorless countenance of a lawyer. “So no, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave with him at this time.”

A heavy weight sank to the very pit of Danny’s stomach as she listened in disbelief. Nathan was here as this guy’s…what, prisoner? Slave? She didn’t believe for one second that what the giant said was true—Nathan wasn’t the type to impose on others. He’d apologize for someone else bumping into him on the street, there was no way he’d wander into someone’s home uninvited unless he was desperate. And even then, Danny wasn’t sure he wouldn’t choose freezing to death over being an inconvenience to anyone. Why would he have stopped at this house anyways? Had he gotten hurt? Had he been looking for help? He certainly wouldn’t have broken in.

“...bullshit,” she hissed, a righteous anger rising up in her. If she had been at all confident in her footing, she would have attempted to stand up and take on a more intimidating posture, but she would take the slightly undignified position of sitting in Christopher’s palm over the much more undignified falling onto her face in his palm, or the loss of all dignity entirely by plummeting to the floor in a humiliating splatter of shame and stupidity. “You expect me to believe that? Nathan’s a good guy, he wouldn’t break into your stupid house.”

She set her jaw defiantly. “And even if I did believe you, he was probably desperate, or lost, or needed help. Are you really that fucking selfish, punishing someone instead of helping them? As if he’s in any way actually a threat or a burden to your sorry giant ass?”

Nothing she said seemed to even make a dent in Christopher’s uncaring expression, her insults and slights at his character seeming to fall on deaf ears. His smile twitched and his eyebrows raised in mild contempt. “You’re quite bold, you know. Speaking like that to someone of my standing. And to a giant, no less.”

His free hand came up to pluck her off of his palm, effectively pinning her arms to her sides in his grip so that she couldn’t even scratch and claw at him like she suddenly quite desperately wanted to. She could only thrash about uselessly, though her violent movement was quelled slightly as her feet made contact with nothing but air. As she dangled in front of Christopher’s face, she realized that his grip was the only thing keeping her from a horrifyingly long freefall.

“A less patient man might not tolerate that kind of talk,” he muttered dangerously, his thumb pressing lightly against her collarbone and forcing her to meet his eyes, which remained lightly amused despite the darkened tone he’d taken on. “But, luckily for you, I’m rather generous, and I’m nothing if not fair.”

She only glared at him in response, an absolutely twisted and poisonous scowl distorting her face. Words seemed almost too good for this bastard, and so she took on a disdainful and stubborn silence instead.

His grip around her loosened slightly, still restricting her movement and keeping her firmly from falling but no longer forcing her neck into an uncomfortable position. This must have been his supposed “generosity” at work.

His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her with an even, shrewd gaze. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay in his place, and I’ll let him go free. How’s that, doll?”

She would have spat in his face if she were closer. Instead, she seethed silently, though a frightened worry began to cloud her thinking. She hadn’t even seen Nathan yet, but the description the other voice had given her had been uncannily accurate. That couldn’t be a coincidence. And while this giant could be lying about a lot of things, Danny was very aware that she had little choice but to believe him. She couldn’t very well overpower him, or even escape on her own now.

She refused to let her mind linger long on the choice—when her own life and wellbeing were weighed against that of her close friend, the rocksteady, kind, and loyal companion she’d known for years, who’d taken care of her through thick and thin like she were his very own sister, the decision was as easy as breathing.

“My name is Danny, you smarmy bastard. And if what you say is true, I’ll…”

She swallowed the last bit of her pride, closing her eyes for a second in one last act of defiance so she didn’t have to look at the rich prick’s face when she spoke.

“...I’ll take his place here. Just let. Him. Go.”

The giant smiled—a wide, cocky smirk that showed too many of his teeth for Danny’s liking. “Deal.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Next chapter ->

We still haven't seen Nathan. Hopefully he's okay?

Thanks for reading, and see you next week with chapter 4, Small Mercies!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #g/t writing #vore writing #vore stories #g/t stories #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #soft vore

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anapotatowriter · 19 days

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Hi there! I saw your requests were open and I absolutely adore your writing.

I am officially back in my Edmund Pevensie era (sorry Five Hargreeves, LOL). Do you mind writing something based on Save The Last Dance For Me by Michael Bublé?

Save the last dance for me

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

A/N: HI DARLING BESTIE! THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST, I REALLY LOVED DELVING INTO SOME TROPES I COULDN'T FIT IN MY PREVIOUS WORKS! I really loved this song, and gained random inspiration from a Bridgerton clip- Did I get up in the middle of the night, and write this whole thing under 3 hours until 2:34 in the morning? Yes, yes I did. Did I do this when I am meant to be studying for my finals? No comment. I hope you like this story. If you don’t, feel free to message me, and I’ll make whatever changes you would like! Also, bonus points to people who can get the different references I have made in this fic~

Summary: Edmund Pevensie is from Narnia. Y/N L/N is from Terenbithia. They are supposed to be enemies, but are they really?

Contains: Fluff basically, a little, teensy-weensy bit of angst, some political rivalry that I *really* didn't explore, a secret relationship, some use of fan language that I think is inferrable??? and a bit of jealousyyyyy! Also, my writing is trash in this fr fr.

Requested: Yes

Now you can dance every dance with the guy

Who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight

And you can smile every smile for the man

Who held your hand beneath the pale moonlight

“We now announce Queen Y/N L/N, Queen of Terebinthia!”

I stepped out from behind the double doors that announced the entry of each royal guest arriving at Cair Paravel. Light applause rang out as I stepped down the stairs, a smirk gracing my face. Four distinct members in the room didn’t bother hiding the subtle displeasure on their faces—the kings and queens of Narnia, enemies of the Terebinthian courts, and thus my enemies. My dark green dress was sewn just to contrast the yellow, red, purple, and blue of the royal members of Narnia, reflecting the political tensions between the two kingdoms. The black lace fan that hung off my wrist reflected the age-old Narnian diamonds, another symbol to rub salt in the wound. My eyes, however, wandered to the younger king, whose silver crown glinting in the candlelight was rivalled only by the sharp flicker in his caramel-brown eyes.

I stayed as far away from the four monarchs as possible, mingling with the population of royalty surrounding us all, a ruse to put up for the family. “Queen Y/N,” said a voice behind me. I turned to meet the eyes of the prince of Archenland, his blonde hair hiding the gold crown he donned. Prince Orlando’s eyes roved over my appearance, a breathless gasp escaping as he said, “Queen Y/N, I simply must have your first dance.” “It would be an honour, Your Highness,” I responded, curtsying slightly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I opened the fan in my hand with a light flick, bringing it up to my chest and fluttering it, bringing the prince’s attention to the diamonds that adorned my neck and the lace of the fan. My eyes flickered beyond Prince Orlando’s shoulder, meeting the similarly entranced eyes of King Edmund. A secret smile graced my face as the fan “slipped” out of my hand and onto the floor. The eyes of King Edmund and Prince Orlando followed its path, the King stepping forward only slightly before resuming an indifferent posture. I glanced down at the fallen fan, my lips parting slightly in mock surprise. The prince bent on his knee to pick up the fan, just as Edmund’s jaw clenched subtly as he stared at us. Orlando held up the fan to me, my eyes flitting away coyly before meeting his again.

I held my wrist out to the prince, making him gulp slightly when I slowly removed the lace gloves that adorned my hand. He widened the fan’s strap and fit it around my wrist, his fingers brushing against the recently uncovered skin. But my eyes were focused on Edmund, who watched the fluttering glove as if it had done him a personal disservice. His vision flitted to my wrist, and then to my eyes. He gazed in my direction with extreme focus, making my hand tremble slightly as I replaced the gloves on my hand. Orlando offered his hand to me, which I accepted, and joined the dance floor. Moments later, the brunette king joined the throng of dancers with a partner of his own. I smirked as I curtsied, taking hold of the prince’s hands. The prince, whose blue eyes met mine eagerly, pulled me in closer with his grip on my waist. I gripped his shoulder subtly, before manoeuvring into a spin and out of his arms. The moonlight filtered through the windows of Cair Paravel, casting a light blue hue along with the orange from the candles. Despite the dim lights of the ballroom, I could feel the pair of eyes belonging to Edmund boring into me, making goose bumps rise on every inch of my skin.

Baby, don't you know I love you so

Can't you feel it when we touch

I will never, never let you go

I love you oh, so much

You can dance, go and carry on

I glanced at Edmund for a moment, who was already staring back with an unrivalled intensity. A drop in the music signalled a switch in partners. My hands immediately left those of the prince, seeking their return to the place of comfort. Home, home, home. Warmth, comfort, and callouses which marked my heart, my hips, my body, my love. I twirled over to the man next to me, Edmund immediately taking hold of me as my dress whipped around me. His fingers dipped tantalising low on my waist, just far enough from being deemed scandalous. The warmth of his palm cut straight through the layers of satin, silk and net that adorned my dress as if they didn’t exist. His hand grasped mine firmly, intertwining our fingers as a means of saying, “I will never let you go.” The moonlight littered over his freckled cheeks, the adoration in his eyes making my heart thud pathetically against my chest. The world around me seemed to disappear as I gazed into his eyes when light applause around us broke me out of my reverie. The music had stopped, indicating the end of the dance. The fan that hung off my wrist was clasped in my hand again. I manoeuvred the fan and swiped the open fan along my cheek. He chuckled under his breath, glancing away quickly before looking back and bowing. As his face dipped just near my ear, he whispered, “I love you too, Y/N… I love you oh so much.” I smiled cheekily at Edmund, curtsying in response before walking back to Prince Orlando for another dance without a glance back.

'Til the night is gone

And it's time to go

If he asks if you're all alone

Can he walk you home, you must tell him no

“Are you going to be travelling home alone, Queen Y/N?” asked Orlando, his eyes flickering with concern. “You need not worry yourself, Prince Orlando. I can do just fine myself,” I replied, smiling. “I can drop you home, Queen Y/N if that would be safer or more comfortable for you.” “No, Prince Orlando. I appreciate your offer and kindness, but I will be fine,” I replied, sharper than intended. He nodded his head in understanding, bowing deeply one last time. He took my hand and grazed his lips against my gloved knuckles before walking out of the ballroom. I caught the eye of Edmund, who was conversing with one of the foreign dignitaries. As if sensing my gaze, his eyes shifted to meet mine. I took my fan into my right hand, placing it in front of my face for a few moments. His eyes glinted in recognition as I walked away, an invitation to follow me. I stalked through the halls of Cair Paravel, which I had crossed through multiple times in the cover of darkness and shadows. I finally emerged through the trap door into the Cair Paravel Gardens, the lingering scent of something citrus infiltrating my senses. As I admired the view, the scent of the gardens was drowned by the smell of coffee and old books. Before I could turn around, Edmund wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into the warmth of his chest. A sudden chill raced down my spine as King Edmund's arms enveloped me, the temperature from the cool gardens contrasting against the warmth of his embrace, making me shiver slightly. “Hello Darling,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the tranquillity of the gardens. Snippets of music still drifted from the ballroom, but the incessant chattering of crowds was silenced. And there we stood, hidden by the hedges and wisteria-festooned walls of the gardens.

'Cause don't forget who's taking you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

Save the last dance for me

Oh, I know that the music's fine

Like sparklin' wine, go and have your fun

Laugh and sing, but while we're apart

Don't give your heart to anyone

And don't forget who's taking you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

So darling, save the last dance for me

“So, are we going to do anything, or just stand around? Because I must admit darling, I am getting rather bored,” I murmured. I could feel the way the corners of Edmund’s lips upturned against the joining between my neck and shoulder. “Maybe I should have taken up Prince Orlando’s offer of taking me home,” I said jokingly. Edmund chuckled lightly, before abruptly spinning me around and gripping me so I faced him. “Don’t forget who’s taking you home, darling. Would be a dam shame to miss out on me for some prince of Archenland,” he quipped. “You might have danced with Prince Orlando, but I'm the one whose arms you’re going to be in tonight.” “May I have the honour of your last dance, Queen Y/N?” asked Edmund as a new song began to play in the background. I chewed lightly on my lower lip, feigning contemplation as I said, “Oh I don’t know. I mean, the music’s fine, but I have already had my fun for the day, I think.” I placed the handle of my closed fan against my lips and pretended to think, watching as Edmund’s eyes tracked the shape of my lips. “Ask your question out loud instead of through your fan, and maybe I’ll agree,” responded Edmund, quirking his eyebrow. I looked away from his gaze and murmured a small, “Kiss me… please.” Before I could finish the last word, his lips pressed against mine softly, the tension leaving my shoulders almost immediately. His hands moved to my gloved ones, tugging at the fingers of the glove gently before pulling the gloves off. His hands traced the newly exposed skin, moving up my arms before placing one on my waist and holding the other one. I shivered at the contact with the skin of his palm, the hardened scars from battles finding their home in my hands. He pulled me into a slow dance, slowly, slowly, slowly tugging my heart to his. “Don’t ever give your heart to anyone else,” he said in my ear, a trace of insecurity running through his words. “I will always save my last dance for you, Edmund Pevensie,” I said in reply, holding on to him like it was my last day.

So darling, save the last dance for me

Oh baby, won't you save the last dance for me

Ooh, you make a promise

That you'll save the last dance for me

Save the last dance

The very last dance

For me

“Darling, save the last dance for me?” asked Edmund, holding his grip over my light blue gown that matched his outfit. “You have asked the same thing at every ball the last 5 years, and my answers never change, darling. I promise that I’ll save the last dance for you,” I replied, kissing him softly on the cheek. As he moved away from me to make his entrance into the ballroom and greet the royalty visiting our home, his sleeve caught on the black fan that dangled from my wrist. He lifted his wrist to his eye level, bringing mine up in the process. Instead of separating the fan from the button on his sleeve, he removed the fan from my wrist, leaving it bare. The diamonds on the fan, once a symbol of the enmity between two lands, showed the union between them. He opened the fan and brushed it against his cheek before walking away, a smile on his face as he glanced back one last time. “I love you, too,” I said to no one, the ring on my hand glistening in its position up high. I shook myself out of my reverie as the person at the doors declared, “We now announce Queen Y/N Pevensie, Wife of King Edmund of Narnia, and Queen of Terebinthia!”

#narnia #edmund is hot #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie #edmund fluff #narnia x reader #x reader

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ink-sunflower · 6 months

Text

Beauty day (Choso x Reader)

One short How about to let Choso try some skincare products.

Choso x Reader Words: ~700 TW: No spoilers, Fluff

"What is it?" Strong arms envelop me from behind. The voice belongs to no other than the powerful death painting womb, the eldest of them, Choso. Though, one of his titles now is “my significant other”.

Today is one of the few days, when I can spend some time for my own pleasure. Life as a jujutsu sorcerer is one full of adventures for sure, though it's not always a perk. What is a good way to wash away traits of numerous battles and let your body and soul finally take a breath of fresh air? To have a beauty day!

So, I prepared a whole set of skincare products from toner to face roller.

Choso's interest piqued a mask that I was about to apply on my face. His face might not show transparent emotions, but his facial expressions are always genial. Just like now, the glint in his purple-brown orbs is shining like a beacon in the night.

(a/n what is the colour of his eyes? In anime it’s blown, but in manga purple. Or maybe I got something wrong?)

An idea pops into my mind, just like Gojo Satoru when he hears his name in a conversation.

"Choso, I think you should learn at first hand." A mischievous grin graces my face.

He stares at me with a hint of bewilderment and uneasiness but does not object when I take his hand and lead to the couch. I gently push Choso down to let him completely occupy the soft place.

"Now Choso you have to unconditionally trust me. Even you feel itchy, ticklish, cold or any other odd feeling on your skin." Teasing him, I close Choso's eyes. I stroke my hand on over his pale skin, caressing with my fingertips the mark on the bridge of his nose. My fingers linger on his lips for a few seconds, and when I feel him taking a deep ragged breath I take my hand away.

"I'm not sure if I want to partake in it," though Choso's statement does not meet with his actions since he makes no move to get up.

I go to the bathroom to bring my discarded face mask and jade roller.

I apply carefully a sheet mask to his face and began to smooth it with a massager. He does not look, but lies quietly, obediently savouring it.

His strained and stern posture dissolved into the soft sofa cushions, allowing himself to relax under the fresh sensation.

"So, how does it feel?" I ask my boyfriend when I notice a small smile of satisfaction blooming on him.

"It's not bad," he replies promptly.

"I have one more thing for you, but maybe it's enough for you then." With humour in my tone, I tease him.

"No, please proceed," he murmurs, eliciting a chuckle from me.

I keep on moving the roller over his face for a further couple of minutes and removed the mask.

"I think I'll like the next part," I tell from the bathroom, preparing the next step of his skin care.

"Is it a kiss?"

"Huh, no. Not yet, at least. "

He just hums at my answer, but the smile widens.

Opening the pack, I pull out a set of patches and place them under his eyes. I chose ones that shimmer with gold.

I can't take my eyes from the view. Choso, wearing eyepatches, placid, with a slight smile on his face, relishing every moment. I should, no. I must, I must save the image of it.

I pull a phone from my pocket and take some pictures. After Choso realised my intentions, we ended up getting a whole photoshoot.

That's how I get a dozen of pictures

Looking through the results of our photoshoot, now without beauty products on our faces, Choso tenderly hugs me closer to him, and hovering over my face, he sweetly whispers:

"Do I get a kiss now?"

…..

How was it? It’s been a while since I wrote something. Please, please, leave feedback 🙏

#jujutsu kaisen #choso #choso x reader #chousou #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #脹相 #jjk #kamo choso #jjk x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso x oc

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avecra · 2 years

Text

You'll Never Be Alone

summary: Bucky finally takes you out on the date you deserve.

pairing: biker!bucky x reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: fluffiest fluff, mentions of toxic relationship, september means fall, reader gets the ending she deserves, liho the cat makes an appearance :)

a/n - second part to Not My Babe

The gentle autumn breeze passed through hair as you bounded towards the steps of the bar, leaning up to grasp the door handles. Sunlight peeked through the open door and you looked around, seeing the near empty bar, save for a few regulars.

You had a new sense of confidence since the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend. More nights were spent with Natasha, going out to dinner with your new friends, and you even found yourself in Bucky’s presence even more.

The feeling of finally being free, not being tied down to a man who couldn’t even have the decency to show you an ounce of affection. But you pushed those thoughts away as you made your way up to the bar top.

“Now what’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a bar like this?”

A smile coursed onto your face and turned to see Bucky walking over to you. You sat up, placing your entwined hands on the countertop as he leaned forward against the bar.

“Hi,” you said, feeling the familiar warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured. “What brings you here, doll?”

You shivered despite the warmth of the bar, though you kept your eyes locked onto Bucky’s. His words from nearly two months ago had been on your mind nearly every day. Whenever you would find yourself in his presence, your heart would flutter and butterflies would erupt in your stomach whenever he would brush his skin against yours.

“You know what you told me a couple months ago? About me being ready?”

A smile graced over Bucky’s features, and he stood up straighter, nodding his head nonchalantly, though his cheeks ached from his smile.

“I think I’m ready.” A bashful smile covered your face and you moved to tug your hands back into your lap, but Bucky darted out and stopped you in your movements. His hand delicately wrapped around your wrist, soon moving down to wrap around your hand.

“Yeah?” he murmured and you nodded. Bucky’s eyes gazed into yours as he stood up, straightened his postures, held your hand in his larger ones and looked at you. “Well in that case,” His hold on your hand tightened, and he leaned forward on his elbows and said,”can I take you out on a date, sweetheart?”

A giggle passed through your lips and you nodded with a beaming smile. “I would love to go out with you, Bucky.”

“Really? You wanna go out with the big, bad biker?”

“No,” You squeezed his hand and leaned forward. “I wanna go out with the kind bartender who just so happens to be a biker that defended me from of my crappy ex-boyfriend.”

It was Bucky’s turn to be bashful, his cheeks reddening every passing second. You thought it was cute, despite the dark colored clothes that sat on his frame, the tattoo ink that covered his skin, the short wisps of hair messily combed through, most likely from his helmet.

A rough looking exterior to others, but to you, he was gentle and sweet and kind despite his appearance.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five? Is that okay? Bucky asked, his eyes remained on you. His hand was still captured in yours.

A nod made his smile brighter. “That’s perfect.”

Bucky leaned forward and placed a soft, short kiss on your warm cheek, squeezing your hand as he pulled away. You could’ve melted right there, but you forced yourself to stay on steady legs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, doll. Five o’clock sharp.”

---

You sat on your bed, nervously nibbling on your nails as you watched Natasha shift through the clothes in your closet. It had been quite awhile since you had been on a date, the nerves began to settle in your stomach.

Liho jumped onto the bed and made her way towards your lap, purrs emitting from the feline in an effort to soothe and calm your nerves. You stroked her black fur, running your finger along her spine soothingly.

What if he thinks I’m no fun? What if I don’t wear something cute enough? What if I’m not enough? What if-

As if she could sense it, Natasha turned to you and tore you away from your thoughts, “Relax, babe. He’s gonna think you look pretty regardless of what you’re wearing.” She turned and picked up a sweater and plucked a pair of dark jeans and tossed them to you.

Keeping your gaze settled on the clothes in your lap, you let the small sigh pass through your lips. You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting how Bucky would be coming to pick you up in less than half an hour.

Gently moving Liho to lay on the blanket, you slipped the sweater over your head, adjusting it over your torso and your arms, slipped into the jeans and fixed a few strands of hair before looking at yourself in the mirror. Natasha came up behind you, plucking a few black stray hairs from Liho off your sweater.

“You are beautiful. Remember that.” she said, running her hands over the top of your hair. “How do you feel?”

Your eyes raked over your reflection, over the sweater that attuned to your features, jeans that fit your body perfectly, all tied together with the necklace you had bought yourself a couple weeks back. The first purchase you made that was entirely your choice.

“I feel pretty. A little nervous, too,” you admitted, but Natasha smoothed her hands down your shoulders. She was about to say something, but a knock resounded on the door, echoing loudly through the small apartment you two shared.

Your eyes darted to your phone, seeing that the time was only six minutes till. You made your way to the door and peered through the peephole, biting your lip to suppress the smile as you saw Bucky on the other side.

You found yourself quickly unlocking and opening the door, smiling as your eyes met baby blue. Brunette hair brushed, though a few strands stood out of place, a leather jacket that covered the grey shirt underneath, Bucky noted your smile as you looked him over. Your eyes fell to the small bouquet of camellias in his grasp.

“Oh Bucky, you didn’t have to,” you said, taking them as he handed the bouquet to you. Beautiful rose and red petals, you sniffed in the floral scent, heart fluttering at Bucky’s soft voice.

“Of course I did,” he replied, watching as you traded the flowers off to Natasha, grabbing your small purse from her. You turned back to Bucky and saw him looking at you with a gleam that you weren’t quite used to. “You look beautiful, Y/n.”

“Thank you,” Bucky held out his hand and you took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead you out of the door, shutting it softly. You noticed the motorcycle helmet hanging from his fingertips, and a rush of excitement coursed through you. “Are we riding on your bike?”

The pure eagerness in your voice drew a chuckle out of Bucky and he turned to you with a smile. “Do you want to?”

You were unsure of a lot of the things in your life. Adjusting without Beck looming over your shoulder every five seconds, living with Natasha, making your own decisions. But you knew at that moment, with Bucky at your side, you wanted everything with him.

“Yes.” you said with a small smile. Bucky tugged you along quicker, leading you down the steps to the side of the road, and it was then that you noticed the other helmet hanging off the handlebars.

“It’ll feel a little scary at first, but I won’t let anything happen to you,” Bucky promised, bringing the helmet that sat in his grasp up to your eye level. With a nod, you allowed Bucky to adjust the helmet around your head, smoothing your hair down to avoid the belt buckle.

He helped you place yourself on the bike before getting in front of you, he smiled as he felt your arms wrap around his waist, holding on tightly. “I thought we could get some food. There’s this diner a few miles near the fields that I think you’d like.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, and soon you felt the strong vibrations as the bike’s engine roared to life. With Bucky’s help, you placed your feet on the pegs, held onto him tightly, his back pressed your chest as he turned onto the street slowly, gradually gaining more speed as he sped down the road.

It was exhilarating to say the least. The wind tickled against your nose, a few strands of hair peeking out from underneath your helmet. You found yourself softly laughing as Bucky revved the engine, speeding down the side of the road and you squeezed him tighter.

You glanced at the fields of trees with yellow and orange, the cool breeze passing through the trees lightly drew goosebumps along your exposed skin. The fall season was upon the small town you lived in and you couldn’t be happier.

Away from a suffocating relationship, from someone who made cruel jokes about anything, you found yourself not giving in to anything you enjoyed.

Now, you reclaimed your love of the fall season, the scents of pumpkin and cinnamon that filtered through the town, the carved out pumpkins that sat on the porches of houses and apartments.

You were so engrossed with the scenery around you, you almost failed to notice how Bucky had slowed down and pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Kicking the peg stand down, he held a hand out for you and helped you off the bike, keeping his hand latched in yours as he led you into the small restaurant.

The sweet smell of vanilla hit you immediately and you glanced around the small diner, following Bucky as he led the two of you into a booth, shocked at how he slid into the seat beside you.

He caught your surprised look and he grinned at you. “I wanna sit next to the beautiful girl I’m on a date with.”

You couldn’t focus on anything but Bucky during dinner; not when Bucky ordered a milkshake for the two of you to share, not as you gave your order to the waitress, not even in conversation between you and him that had your stomach hurting from laughter.

Your attention was entirely focused on the sweet biker next to you. The way he would casually brush his arm against yours as he plucked french fries off your plate, tucked away stray hairs that got caught in front of your face.

His movements with you were gentle, like you were the most delicate thing on the planet. The way he slid out of the booth once you were finished, held his hand open to you and gently grasped your hand to help you up.

Gentle hands held your waist, steadying you as you swung your leg over the bike, before you comfortably sat on the seat. You gazed up at Bucky while he fastened the helmet over your hair.

“So, where are we off to next?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist as he pulled out back onto the street slowly.

“It’s a surprise,” Bucky said and immediately, your eyes lit up with intrigument. “A good one, I promise.”

Trusting him, you leaned your cheek against his shoulder, squeezing him tighter. You felt his hand encased yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, the touch brought butterflies to your stomach.

Fields of trees with orange and yellow went on for miles, for a moment you were glad at the warmth radiating from Bucky’s back as the cool fall breeze lightly whipped against your face. You noticed Bucky kept his hand over yours until a familiar brown sign with the words ‘Willow Farms’ and you couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face.

The name brought the familiar warm feeling to you once again. You and Natasha would always go every year to pick out pumpkins for the perfect pumpkin pie to make, but once you were together with Beck, you missed out on the last few years.

It angered Natasha, but the fiery redhead was never mad at you, she always directed her frustrations towards Beck time and time again before she finally received the satisfaction of telling him off as she collected bare necessities all those months ago. It felt like he had sucked all the excitement and joy out of your life, and like a fool you let me take the things you enjoyed.

And as Bucky pulled into the makeshift lot, bringing the bike to a stop, you quickly unlatched your helmet and looked around the familiarity of your surroundings, seeing the small corn maze that was filled with kids, the rows of orange pumpkins, and the rows and rows of beautiful trees.

The thought alone almost made you burst into tears.

“How did you..” you trailed off, enamoured with the beautiful scenery. Bucky grasped your hand and led you towards the farm, where already families and groups of people began to flutter about.

“Natasha mentioned that you hadn’t been here in a few years, and she told me how much you used to love coming here,” Bucky gently said, slipping his hand into yours and tugged you closer to his side. “Thought I could maybe cheer you up.”

“You did this for me?” You looked at him and he nodded, beginning to lead you towards the small festivities going on.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I don’t know about you, but that funnel cake is calling to me.”

---

You swore your cheeks were going to be achy later from the amount of smiling you had done since arriving at the farm. With your hand tightly in Bucky’s he led you all over the place.

To the ring toss booth, the funnel cake stand, and finally down the path that was lined with pumpkins of all colors with towering trees. Leaves covered the ground, though you and Bucky paid no attention to the soft crunching of certain petals.

“I’m tellin’ you sweetheart, the game was rigged. There is no way those small rings fit those large bottles. That’s all I’m saying,” Bucky said, his voice breaking out into a laugh.

You giggled and leaned more into his side, shoulders brushing up and pressed against one another. When your laugh finally settled, you found yourself gazing up at Bucky, snaking your hand to wrap around his arm.

Bucky glanced down at you and caught your gaze and he halted in his steps to match your gaze. A leaf caught itself in your hair and Bucky gently pried it out of the strands.

“What?” he murmured, his hand ghosting over the skin of your cheek.

You sighed, “nothing. I’m just really happy.”

“Yeah?” Bucky muttered, eyes flickering down to your lips.

“I let myself be alone and miserable with someone who didn’t even give any effort. I was so unhappy for the longest time, and I almost let it consume me. But now, living with Nat and hanging out with the most gentle bikers in town, being able to be my own person, to finally be myself, makes me feel happy.” His blue eyes stared adoringly down at you, an adoration he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You make me happy, Bucky. I don’t feel so alone when I’m with you”

Bucky slid his hand from your hand to your cheek and leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours. Your hands gripped his jacket and you leaned further into his embrace as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

You swore it felt like you had spent years with him, with how easy conversation came between you. You hadn’t felt the creepening feeling of loneliness since meeting him, you had only met him weeks prior to your breakup and when he was there that night, he held no hesitation as he comforted you. The way he welcomed you with a warm smile and open arms, you knew you were a goner then.

But the way he held you, the delicate hold he had on your jaw, his thumb caressing over the warmth on your cheeks, you found yourself more entranced in him. The date alone spoke louder than Beck ever had in the two years.

Bucky’s hands coaxed from your jaw down your back, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer than you were before. Your hands wrapped around his neck and you sighed against his mouth before pulling away, breathless.

“You’ll never be alone again, sweetheart,” His lips ghosted over your forehead before he pressed a kiss to your temple. “As long as I’m here, you have me.”

“I know,” you whispered, and you meant it. If you didn’t have him, you wouldn’t have been standing on the path of a farm you visited years ago. You wouldn’t have had the best milkshake at the diner, and you certainly wouldn’t have had the most amazing man in front of you. “I’m glad I have you.”

Your voice was soft and Bucky couldn’t help himself as he lifted you up in his arms and spun you around, pressing kisses from cheek to cheek, across your nose and jaw until they settled against your lips once more. You giggled against his lips and he pulled away.

“You’ll always have me, sweetheart.”

Running your hands through the short wisps of hair, all the while he was still holding you. You pressed a kiss against his cheek and rested your cheek against his. “As long as I’m with you, Bucky, I’m happy.”

---

tag(s) 🏷 - @acotarlove63

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #biker!bucky

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balloonboyismyson · 2 months

Note

I am getting sick and my only saving grace has been to think about how my FNAF crushes would act finding out Y/N is sick 🙏

So headcanon time, how would the Glamrocks (and Sean mayhaps) act finding out Y/N came into work sick and is trying to act normal about it (and failing)

OOOOOHH OKAY HEADCANON TIME (I hope it is just a fluke and you do not end up actually getting sick)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Freddy would most certainly recognize your posture and demeanor first. Instantly, he races to you and makes you face him. With one scan, he can tell just what ailments you have. You attempt-in vain-to tell him you are fine, but he interrupts you with all the information he has received: "Runny nose, itchy and sore throat, fever, cold sweats, coughing and fatigue. You also appear to be having a mild allergic reaction to Dayquil." You try telling him it is all you had, but he brings you to a first-aid station in an attempt to scrounge up some benadryl and ice packs. Afterwards, he brings you back to his room and lays you on the couch.

Roxy notices your skin first. It is extremely dry, and your lips are extremely chapped. "What're you doing here?? You need to lay down now, you look like you're gonna pass out!" Since it is a Saturday, you try to tell her that you are hungover, but she rolls her eyes at you. "Someone who's hungover wouldn't be able to walk two steps in here without sunglasses as dark as Monty's." She orders you to go lie down on her couch and sleep. You try to remind her you are here for your job, but she has already moved on and is preoccupied brushing her hair. After a moment of not moving, she snaps her fingers and points to her couch. You walk over with your metaphorical tail between your legs and get comfortable.

Monty gets the wrong impression when you first step in his greenroom. He sprints over to you, his face painted with concern. "Hey did somethin' happen?? 'Re you okay??" When you meet his gaze, he softens. "Oh. Caught a bug?" You shake your head and tell him it is just allergies. Even through his sunglasses you can see him squint at you. "Tch'yeah. 'Kay. 'N' I'm a crocodile." You look away from him and attempt to steer the conversation to your nightly duties. "102.2" He states. You quirk a brow and question the number he gives you. "You're 102.2°F." You try to tell him you are not that bad, but before you can he picks you up, plops down on the couch and places you on top of him. You bring up your job, but he cuts you off. "Don't care."

Chica can hear just how awful you are in your voice when you greet her. "Woah!" She yells as she covers her beak and runs over to scan you. Once she is done she wastes no time grabbing your hand and back. "C'mere, c'mere now, easy does it." She leads you and sets you down on her surprisingly comfortable chair. Before you have time to de-escalate the situation, she is already out of the room. After a few minutes she returns with a few ice packs, water bottles and some benadryl. Again, you attempt to speak, but she shuts you down. "Here, take this!" Since she is the one who deals with sick and hurt kids the most, you give up on trying to stop her and take the meds.

---

Sean goes to greet you when you walk in the room but is cut short by seeing how miserable you look. "Woah my god!" He quickly puts his things down and makes his way over to guide you to the nearest table. He reaches in his chest compartment and pulls out a small package of tissues for you. "What made you come in!?" You try to convince him you had just been standing in the cold for a bit and needed to warm up, but he looks at you with a low-lid stare. "Sorry shortstack, but the cold doesn't make you sound like that." You clam up and try to find a different excuse, but he cuts you off. "How 'bout this. You go find an employee break room somewhere and I'll finish your shift for you." Your eyes widen and you tell him that you are fine and are totally capable of doing it. "You deserve a break," He smiles, "and some much needed rest." Then, he gets up to see you to the break room.

#Clownie honks #asks #Security Breach #Monty Gator #Roxanne Wolf #Glamrock Freddy #Glamrock Chica #Sona #Sean the Snake #FNaF OC #MyArt #FNaF #FNaF SB #//Sean does not have a room so there is no couch for Y/N to sleep on :o(#Headcanons

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 years

Text

Possessive Lucifer {2}

Chapter Summary; Lucifer makes do with his promise. One thing leads to another, and you’re stuck in an alcove with a jealous Lucifer and his new promise. He’s going to ruin you.

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: 2/2

Word; 6.000

Warnings; character death, smut (please no minors only 18+), dirty talk, possessive Lucifer, slight exhibitionist kink, unprotected sex (remember to be safe), rough sex, semi-public sex

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Tihi, who asked for possessive and hot sex with the devil in a closet?

MAIN MASTERLIST

The night was long. Fancy champagne, fancy dresses and fancy people. The small talk, the fake smiles and laughs. It was dreadful, but if you thought finding an opportunity to get the monster of the night alone couldn't come sooner, Dean was getting desperate.

You don't know how often you'd found him pleadingly looking in your direction during the night, silently asking for you to save him from another conversation he didn't want to engage in from the beginning. Although you aided him when you could, it was impossible to do it all the time, concerning you needed to entertain your own occasional company.

Thankfully, the initial mingle session seemed to be over soon as people gradually moved towards the stage where the orchestra had been playing until now. Albeit following the group gathering there, you searched for Sam or Dean.

Spotting a tall brunette glancing around the room -off to the side but without a doubt having followed the crowd assembling by the stage- you headed towards the person you recognised all too well.

Not until the people not far from him started to part as you excused yourself did Sam finally see you. He caught your gaze and nodded in a silent greeting before you were close enough to join him.

"Finally, a familiar face", he said on an exhale once you joined his side. You noted how his shoulders dropped in relief, and concerning you barely had been able to have a word with him since you entered the venue, you believed him.

"Though happy to finally see you, I can't say the same here. I've acted as Dean's saving grace a few times", you replied, eyes scanning the crowd for the older Winchester.

"He probably needed it more. It looked like he would rather go back to purgatory than stay here a minute longer". You chuckled at his comment, somehow feeling it was partly true.

"So, how should we tackle this then?" You lowered your voice and took a step closer to the brunette to not attract the attention of the people around you, motioning with a nod to the man you were here for as he entered the stage.

"After the speech, the party will open up, much like before", Sam began as the man of the evening tapped the microphone, earning most of the audience's attention. Causing the taller man to bend down slightly and lower his voice even further. "Mr Chan will rejoin the party after a change of outfit, a more fitting one for the later evening".

You threw him a glance, the edge of your mouth ticking upwards. "Look at you, could almost think you're a shapeshifter from how you blend in with these folks". Sam, however, only shook his head at your comment, a low laugh escaping beneath his breath.

"Only doing my best to get as much information as possible because how much it ever looks like it, I more than a little anxious to get out of here".

"Good that I'm not the only one". You looked to your right, finding Dean having appeared out of nowhere.

"Nice of you to join us", Sam greeted his brother, earning a look from the older hunter.

"Have tried for the past five minutes to find you", he said without any humour in his voice. It was only then you noticed how Dean still had his shoulders rolled back, perfecting his posture even further by having his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "My next goal is to leave this place", he muttered.

"We'll... see if we can meet up with the man of honour after his speech". Sam chose his words carefully as he informed his brother, whose gaze was fixed straight ahead.

"Good enough, you'll go with Sam".

"No way, ain't letting you roam around on your own when you barely can hold a conversation", you argued.

"She has a point, Dean. We'll take those two corridors that wrap around, and they aren't deserted until further into the house". The younger Winchester gestured discreetly to the openings on the left respectively right side in your line of vision.

"Fine".

"Go with Sam. He can do the talking". You tilted your head towards the tall man to your left.

"You can't go on your own". You were met by Dean's furrowed brows as he turned to face you.

"I'll be fine. We'll meet up before we face our main man anyways". You looked to Sam, who nodded in agreement before looking forwards.

If he would've liked to argue, the older Winchester was cut off as Mr Chan finally greeted his guests.

***

A clicking sound echoes in the empty hall as you walk away from the crowd.

After everyone applauded, you and the boys gave a final nod to each other and split up as the crowd dispersed. It would’ve felt disrespectful to not listen to the speech, only counting down until it would end if you’d been any other person tonight. But the truth was, you really hadn’t cared about what the man said, so neither could you recall anything. But if you had to guess, it would be similar to everyone's thank-you speech. Grateful for you, they and us, excited to continue towards further greatness.

Your feet were aching as you neared the end of the corridor, or so they’d done from the night's second half and onwards. Blisters were forming where the stiff material of your heels rubbed against your skin, and you couldn’t wait until you could take them off.

"Whoa there!" You were startled at the voice, even more so by the hands suddenly gripping your upper arms. Then, snapping to look upwards, you found a pair of brown eyes looking down at you, surprise pinning a dark-haired man's eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Sorry", you mumbled, offering the man you accidentally ran into when cutting the corner an apology as you stepped out of his hold.

"No worries", he smiled, and you offered one back, about to step around him when he moved to the side, halting your action. "Can I offer the lady company back to the party?"

"I have to decline. I'm on the way to powder my nose, but thank you", you smile, hoping your quick fabricated lie passed as more than the commonly worst quick-escape excuse.

"Yes, of course", he dipped his head when a chuckle left him. "Makes sense since you're heading the opposite way". His dark eyes found yours again as he lifts his gaze.

"Yeah, but have a good evening, enjoy the party", you smile, about to move, but yet again, he blocks your path by following your step to the side.

"I would much rather enjoy something else".

"What?" Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden comment.

"You're a real beauty, you know". The brunette steps closer, eyes adverting from yours. As the brown-eyed man rakes his gaze over your body, you can practically feel the trail they leave behind. When they finally settled on yours again, it felt like his eyes had turned even darker. "And I would much rather enjoy something like you than those dummies in there". His smile is ominous as he jerks his head towards the room you just left, and your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Absolutely not". You take a step away, looking over your shoulder, but the main room isn't in sight. You’d somehow forgotten you just turned the corner.

Rather than thinking your averted attention was because you tried working out whether or not it was possible to make a hasty retreat from a situation steadily making you more uncomfortable, the man must've thought you looked for someone.

"Why? Are you here with someone tonight?" You whipped around to face the dark-haired man once more when his voice suddenly sounded closer.

"I-", you began but cut yourself off when he grabbed your upper arm. "Let go of me!"

"Not until I get an answer". The man's voice was calm, but at the same time, there was a dangerous edge to it.

"How about just fucking no", you gritted out, clenching your fist, ready to send it straight into his jaw. But you didn’t get the opportunity.

His hand had slipped downwards, circling your elbow to tug you close with surprising strength.

Shock forces you to concentrate on not losing your balance rather than breaking free. As you look up -coming too close for comfort to his face- you're greeted with a sneering smile. It sends a shrill down your spine, driving you to jerk back, attempting to distance yourself from the man, but he only digs his finger further into your arm.

"Come on now, pretty one, don't be so difficult-". The man's sentence is abruptly stopped as his mouth remains open, face falling.

Something disappears from his features, then his eyes. You stumble backwards when his hold slackens, hand shooting to rub away the sting in your elbow.

And it's then when your eyes follow his arm falling to his side, you find the bloody fist sticking out of his chest.

You choke on your breath, witnessing the owner pulling their hand back, causing the body to slump to the side. And as the dark-haired man falls to the floor, your eyes instantly flicker to the person behind him.

Whatever part of your hindbrain still in fight or flight had imagined a monster awaiting you, but any kind of adrenaline-induced fear evaporated when you were met by Lucifer.

The devil was looking at his red fist, almost in disgust, as he twisted his hand and flicked it to get the excess blood from it, a few droplets joining the slowly widening red circle on the floor.

"Lucifer!" You hissed, reality finally catching up with you when your eyes remained on the man sprawled on the ground. "You can't just-". Before you finish the sentence, you're cut off as your gaze is pulled up by a hand gripping your chin. The last thing you see before your eyes meet the devil is him stepping over the body and the pool of blood.

"Yes, I can", he spoke slowly, leaning in closer when he resumed. "I said I wasn't scared of killing for you".

Your heart warmed, almost an uncomfortable amount, at what the devil suggested and proved. With the feeling came a pang of guilt urging you to push down the reaction you'd had to his words. "But-"

"But what?" There's a bite in his voice, a dark flame igniting in his now red eyes. "What he would’ve done to you?” He snarls, voice raising. “I can tell you he would’ve forced himself on you, probably used you without you able to do anything". You feel a twitch in his fingers before he moves to hold the side of your neck, his thumb lodging in the hinge of your jaw as his other digits curl beneath your ear.

"If you insist on asking, then please, answer my questions: If I would've played by your human norms, what would he have done? If I had not cared about coming when I felt you... what would have happened then?" You made no further attempt at finishing your earlier sentence when he continued in a similar resentful manner.

The archangel staring down at you was correct, even if you hadn't -or been unable to during the moment- realised any of the points he made was true. You had felt unsafe, unconsciously knowing the situation hadn't looked all too favourable. Despite being a hunter, to fight off a six-foot-plus man without anything but your fists isn't easy. And if anything, Lucifer would've been the first to know how you felt about such a situation, and it was for the same reason he must've come.

"That's what I thought". At Lucifer's voice, you return to the present, eyes flickering between the angel's red ones.

"Still, you can't kill someone innocent". You don't know why you pleaded the man's case. You would've liked nothing more than to knock him unconscious. But dead? And for your sake? No matter how the man behaved, it didn't feel right.

However, Lucifer didn't budge on the matter. As a matter of fact, he froze, not uttering a word.

His thumb that had been nudging the hinge of your jaw pressed into that hollow between neck and throat. Without a doubt sensing your pulse jump just beneath your skin.

And then, Lucifer pressed his lips to yours. But it wasn’t gentle. Instead, it's heated, possessive, his tongue moving past your lips to swipe back and forth.

The force almost rocks you off your feet, and the devil notices as his hands slide down to your throat and he pushes you backwards.

You stumble, mind reeling when his body steps into yours, not as much for support as for simply forcing you backwards faster. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're dumbstruck, panting against his lips as you watch him with wide eyes.

"If I would've been able to read his thoughts, I know very well he wouldn't have been innocent", he growls as you can't do anything but follow his lead, legs still shaky and mind not grasping the situation yet. Nevertheless, you have enough brain capacity to glance at the dead man on the floor.

"The body Lucifer, we can't just-". A snap of his fingers was all it took for the body to turn into dust. Then Lucifer's hand slid up until his thumb pushed against the underside of your chin, angling your face upward and forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I am here". The authority in the devil's voice would’ve made your eyes stick to him no matter if you could’ve escaped his hold on you. That's why you barely noticed how his arm stretched around you, at least not until you heard a doorknob turn and your surroundings changed.

You entered something akin to a small scrub. At the edge of your vision, you notice how shelves line the walls, a cluttered mess of different cleaning supplies stacked on top.

Just as you wondered how deep it was, you caught something sounding close to a lock clicking in place, and for a second, it became dark. Then, a yellow light flickered to life above your head, showing you how Lucifer closed the space between the two of you.

He pressed close to you, welding you against something at your back, causing a hard surface to dig into your lower ass. Lucifer’s bloodied hand perches on a shelf above your head while he practically leans over you, caging you against whatever you'd backed into.

You feel small as he towers over you. The wings obscuring the rest of the room behind Lucifer don't help to ease the sensation. Something in your body squirms, and you nearly want to sink further away to escape his heavy red gaze.

"Lucifer". His name was a shaky whisper, spoken unsteadily because you still feel what you now have coined as boiling rage through the bond. Even so, he put his finger against your lips, pursing his so a silencing sound escapes them before he speaks.

"I'm gonna fucking rail you until that man is the last thing on your mind, little one", he speaks lowly as his finger slips down to play with your lower lip, his gaze falling to watch the action before he shocks you by leaning down for a kiss.

He slots his mouth over yours, tongue not waiting nor begging for entrance before it slides against yours, urging you to move against him as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. And you do, a warm sensation flushing through your body as his lips passionately slip over yours. Soothing his nerves as something else enters not only the air but your bond.

It's swift, like a switch flipping, the sensation changing enough for you to feel it immediately.

Although there's no need to dissect it, the devil makes clear what it is as he makes your breath catch when one of his palms settles on your thigh, parting the slit and exposing your skin even further as his hand slides upwards.

The green fabric cascading down your lower body collects at his wrist. But Lucifer doesn't stop with a cradle of your thigh. Instead, he continues upwards until his fingers reach your clothed pussy, where he wastes no time waiting to play with you through the thin material of your panties.

You keen into the kiss, shock and a tremble forcing the sound out of you, but it's simply swallowed and muffled by the devil's passionate lips moving against yours.

"Did he hurt you?" Lucifer husks when he breaks the kiss but doesn't stay far away as he noses down your neck, getting a mumbled 'no' before he continues. "Did he leave a mark on you?"

Eyes still closed, you tilt your head backwards, giving him more space to work with. "No". The man's grip may have been firm, but it wouldn't bruise.

"Good", he reaches a familiar spot on your chest, the same one he'd paid particular attention to before you left for the hunt. "Because only I can do that", Lucifer mumbles against you before pressing a kiss over the material where the already formed hickey was hidden.

"What about all the monsters then?" You gasp when Lucifer suddenly press his finger against your clit.

"Those you kill". You feel the devil's teasing kisses along your throat, senses still cranked to a thousand since earlier. That's why electricity shoots through you when Lucifer reaches your mouth and nibbles at your lower lip. "I take care of the humans". He grins against you before he leans away.

"That's reassuring to hear". You attempt for the breathed reply to sound anything but just that, but any form of verbal response is getting more challenging to conjure.

"Those ideals of yours are too bothersome. Someone must have some sense", the devil mused before cocking his head. "And you should know you're my favourite plaything anyways, so you don't need to worry".

The bastard smirks down at you. You can feel it but not see it clearly. You see his outline, how it's blue and not red staring down at you, but still hazy like you'd gotten something in your eye and no matter how much you blink, it doesn't clear. And somewhere along the way, your eyelids get stuck halfway as you attempt to hold what you assumed was Lucifer's gaze as he so effortlessly circles your clit.

You barely believe it wasn’t his grace when he’d been able to speak without the slightest hitch. But you notice his forearm shifting when your head falls forwards to rest against his chest, hands leaving the table top you'd clutched behind you to fist his clothes.

A high-pitched whimper stems from your vocal cords as he speeds up, and not long after, you sense Lucifer beside your head, his voice following suit.

"Better keep it low, little one, or else someone might hear", he husks in your ear, though you barely notice how the archangel isn't as unaffected as you thought when you burrow your head further into his chest, biting your lip as you squirm against him upon his warning. You don't even notice how your thighs clenched around his hand, attempting to further relieve the building ache in-between your legs. But, the devil does. "Or maybe that's what you want? You want to let everyone hear you, hear who makes you feel like this. Is that it, hm? You want to let them know you're mine?"

That's what sends you over the edge.

Your body convulses against Lucifer's, kept up solely by his body pinning you in place and the hand cupping your heat, prolonging your pleasure as good as possible with flicks to your clit.

In an attempt to silence yourself, you bite your tongue, the edge of your teeth digging into the soft flesh, yet it does little to quiet down your heavy panting. Hopefully a little muted by the fabric you're pressing your face against.

The sharp edge of blissfulness fades when Lucifer pulls his hand out from your dress and clutches your waist possessively. However, your eyes flutter when you feel his touch leave you, and your head hangs in the air rather than resting against his chest.

"No", tumbles from your lips as you reach for Lucifer's neck, pulling him into a kiss when he's about to back away. Even though the devil ungracefully clashes against you -teeth knocking against yours as he rattles the things upon the shelves above you when his hand slams into it once more as he hadn't anticipated your action- he quickly falls into the hungry way you press your lips against his. "I need you", you mumble between kisses.

"Thought you had an important hunt?"

Your hands fall to his belt buckle, undoing it and the button of his jeans. "Make it quick then". The devil groans against your lips, likely not expecting you to insist on one risking one of the Winchesters coming to look for you and finding you like this, but he didn't waste a second.

His hand replaces yours after you pull down his zipper, dragging his pants and boxers down far enough to pull himself free.

The confinements of his pants must've been uncomfortable, concerning he's already hard, tip an angry red colour as he swipes his thumb over it, spreading the spend beading there. When he grips his length and fists himself, a fuck is mumbled beneath your breath, a chuckle escaping Lucifer as he watches how intensely you follow his movements.

Not before long, you reach for him, your fingers replacing his, and a repressed groan leaves Lucifer upon your touch. But he wasn't still for long before grabbing the material of your dress, rucking it upwards and to the side until it pools around your right hip. He steps closer, placing himself between your legs to keep the material to the side.

"So ready for me". Lucifer seeks out your pussy again, your juices soaking through your panties, coating the upper part of your thigh and now getting smeared against his knuckles.

"Yes", you stutter out, hand stilling around his length as it gets difficult concentrating on more than him petting you through the lace covering your still sensitive heat.

"You almost sound needy".

"And you're close to getting smacked if you wait any longer, either by me, Sam or Dean", you groan back.

"So violent", Lucifer reply with a tug of his lips. Nonetheless, he tugs your panties to the side and shifts closer.

The head of his cock bumps against you, and you feel him twitch in your palm while a shudder journeys through your body. You direct him towards your weeping entrance, the head of his cock notching against your entry.

A gasp leaves you as he slides into you with repeated rolls of his hips until he's seethed deep within you. Your head tips back, and your fingers knot in his jacket. He stays still, letting you adjust briefly before he begins pumping in and out.

Your breath stutters, and a fog rapidly wraps around your brain, like something addictive drugging you, causing all the tension in your body to melt away. The fingers intertwined in Lucifer's clothes skates upwards, and so does the hand you'd rested against his side, up and up until they circle beneath his arms and grabs his shoulders for support.

He presses closer to you, his clothes rubbing against yours. The duller coloured fabrics encasing him crinkle the vibrant ones wrapped around you. Even so, Lucifer's naked hips are pressed close to yours, kissing your thighs and mound each time he buries himself as deep as possible.

The earlier relief in your body moves through your muscles like vines, sucking out strength only to hoard it in your core. A vibrating, almost tickling sensation builds in your gut, blossoming into something sweet yet dry on your tongue.

Your head drops, and you burrow it against his neck, littering it in kisses and bites to silence yourself. However, it has the opposite effect when you reach the sensitive spot beneath the archangel's ear, and he reacts by rutting harshly into you.

"Fuck, Lucifer, please". The words slip from your mouth and curl along the shell of his ear. His motion falters, but he grinds his pelvic bone against your clit.

"Already begging?" The words were heaved from deep within his lungs, a growl initiating his following sentence. "Forgot that this is your dirty dream".

"Rather, yours!" You press your face further into his skin as a particularly rough thrust makes you moan the last word loud enough that if anyone walked past the scrub, they definitely would've heard.

"Don't think they heard you yet. Give the people another, would you?" He groans lowly, his fingers wrapping around your neck to bring you from your hiding and force you to stare into his eyes instead.

"Fuck off", you spit. But the venom in your voice melts away in an instant as Lucifer punishes you by pulling out almost entirely before slamming into you. Causing your eyes to slip close and your jaw to slacken. Still, you managed to silence yourself by letting out a choked sound rather than a loud moan.

"Don't get cocky now, not when you're the only one caring if I undo the lock behind us". The devil said against your lips, watching how they parted further, yet he didn't lean in to grant you the kiss he knew you wanted, enjoying your struggle to be silent. And when he didn't, Lucifer noticed the creases between your brows deepening, your tongue pushing into your inner cheek as if to divide your attention from your pleasure. The one he didn't even need to feel through your bond to know it thrummed through your body.

You felt the devil smirk by the little twitch of his lips, and you wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. Although, rather than succeeding with quelling his satisfaction, you probably only granted him a further one when your hand snapped to your mouth, teeth digging into the meet at the base of your thumb to silence yourself when Lucifer picks up the pace.

His hands move to clutch your waist, and your dress slips down a little, rubbing in between your and Lucifer's naked skin. The tabletop behind you moves, thudding slightly against the wall with his new pace.

You keen when the archangel presses close to you, grinding his hips rather than pulling in and out after almost slipping out from how soppingly wet you'd become. He's so deep, hitting something inside you that causes your toes to curl uncomfortably in your heels and your thighs press against his hips.

"I can feel that you're close". Lucifer's words are breathed into your ear as his head drops, locks of his hair curling against his forehead. "Let them fucking hear you". His hand grips your wrist and rips it away from your mouth, naturally letting it fall together with his until it hits the edge of the countertop. Your fingers curl along the metal edge. The devil's into your skin.

Despite your attempt at softening your moans, the feeling of climbing a mountain peak with quivering legs and bathed breath beyond the top has you unable to control the sounds you let out. Your pants turn into whines until they reach the deepest part of your lungs and emptiest them by moulding air into a groan.

You topple over the edge when Lucifer makes the tiniest readjustment of his hips, one you don't even know how to describe, but he hits that spot that makes you instinctually cling to him as your head snaps backwards.

Your legs shake, and a high-pitched, wavering whine is squeezed from between your lips.

It's like something sourly-sweet curls in the lower part of your stomach, your muscles spasming as your body does nothing but soak in it. And it doesn't take long before the devil joins you from how you squeeze him, stilling and twitching in the way that makes you consciously clench around him one last time before you lean more of your weight against the table behind you.

Your head lolls forward, and you find Lucifer's neck. You breathe in his musky scent, feeling a softness entering your bones, accompanied by his body's comforting chill.

His breaths fan your hair away from your neck. Each exhale is a hot sweep against your sticky skin. You feel him shuffling, and a noise leaves you when he slides out of you to tuck himself into his boxers. Yet, when Lucifer's palm settles against your cheek and makes you look at him when he stands tall again, you forget the empty feeling when a shudder rushes down your neck and through your body.

His eyes are half-lidded, those blues gazing at you almost lazily. Then, with a slight tilt and pull, he brings you in for a kiss. Yet, despite his appearance and the gentle and warm glow streaming through your bond, his kiss is fevered.

The devil slants his lips against yours, tongue running along the seam of your lower lip before he licks into your mouth, swallowing the sound you make. Your hand presses into his hair, fingers curling into his damp blonde locks to tug him closer. Lucifer grunts, deepening the kiss until he reaches a frenetic pace.

You both are getting carried away, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember you don't have all the time in the world. Breaking the heated kiss, you pant against the archangel's lips as you rest your forehead against his. And it seems the pause not only calms you but Lucifer's as well.

"You better get going". You laugh breathlessly at this.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll just meet up with Sam and Dean looking like this". You lean away to motion at yourself with a flick of your hand, not needing a mirror to know you looked fucked out. His eyes flicker over you at the invitation to do so.

"Just say you stumbled into one of their companions. You have the story, and now-". He lowers the hand he'd held the shelves with and drags it over your shoulder and upper chest. At the edge of your vision, you spot the red stains the partly dried blood leaves behind. "-you look the part even more". As he gives a final swipe over the swell of your breast, your eyes snap downwards.

"I would've slapped you if you destroyed this dress", you huffed in relief as you examined the smeared red lines on your upper body resembling splatter you'd attempted to wipe off but only made it worse. "And don't tell me that the man wasn't a human all along".

Your gaze rose, seeking out Lucifer's. "No, very much human, very much a dick, just trying to come up with excuses for you". The corner of his lip tugged upwards, and no remorse could be found in his eyes concerning his earlier actions.

"You're unbelievable", you chuckled in disbelief as you closed your eyes.

"Hm, no, you and your heroic moral is for liking my little display". The devil runs his clean fingers up your side with the occasional press, mimicking little steps.

Your flex your jaw, eyes opening to stare into his.

Mirth, the same kind always noticeable when he knows he's right, plays in those wisps of blue. You tilt your head upwards, attempting not to give him a reason to be any smugger.

"Need an answer, little one", he smirks, leaning just out of reach for you to be able to kiss him. Concerning he's still pinning you to the desk behind you, there isn't much more you can do than scoff and twist your head away from him, staring at the wall in the opposite direction.

"Don't become prude now", he chuckles. "You're past the point of it being believable when you fucked the devil in a closet, in this pretty dress and with a party going on just down the hall". You swallow. Turning your head just the slightest bit so you can look at him. He cocks a brow, awaiting your confession.

"Fine", you say, but Lucifer only tuts.

"Not good enough. Tell me you liked how I killed that man for you and then showed you who you belong to". Your mouth drops open, but you quickly shut it as you bite your tongue.

Sam and Dean were probably waiting for you, and if you didn't join them any moment now, they wouldn't be able to wait to go after the kitsune, but neither would they want to leave without you. And knowing them, they would probably split up, not taking the chance it could just be a guest holding you up for this long. Sighing, you pinned a grinning Lucifer with your gaze, a finger coming to rest on his chest to accentuate your reformulated agreement.

"I did like how you saved me in... your own devilish fashion, and I can't say I'm complaining about the following event". The archangel's wings fluttered.

"Will do for now", Lucifer hummed, raising his bloody hand to pull you into a kiss. It's a shorter one, your lips moving slowly against one another for a few seconds before he leans away and lets you slide down to stand on the sole of your feet once more.

Concerning the feeling of your mixed spends trickling out of you -your panties not much of a cover- you're thankful you chose a long dress. However, it feels like the sex you just had is sticking to your skin in more than one way, and you can’t wait until you return to the motel to freshen up. Not only to feel like Lucifer didn't cling to your body for the duration of the trip home, but the blood he’d covered you in.

The thought, along with the red you notice in your peripheral at that moment, reminds you he'd smeared a new streak of blood across your skin. Raising one hand, you smudge the crimson on your cheek and upper neck, frowning at your stained fingers as you resist the urge to wipe them on your dress.

Feeling someone staring, your eyes find Lucifer's, noticing how he'd cocked his head.

"What? I would rather not have a bloody handprint with a compromising placement. It wouldn't help me with the whole run into their companion instead of having hot sex with the devil in the closet".

His mouth ticked upwards at that and something about him standing so casually with his jeans still zipped down and belt buckle hanging open was almost too domestic to not be home in the bunker but in a scrub.

Lucifer observes you while your eyes roam over him, a small smile forming on your lips.

Once your gaze meets the archangel’s, you know he noticed. Without thinking, you move towards the door, ready to leave the way too small scrub. However, you didn't consider your legs would be even unsteadier in heels than previously. So you stumble forwards.

The sole reason you don't trip is thanks to Lucifer’s quick reflexes as his arms shoot out to steady you.

"Should watch your step". The devil helps you to stand straight, and you shoot the amused devil a glare.

"Shut up", you mumbled under your breath, slightly embarrassed he saved you from looking like a complete fool right after he caught you checking him out. "And these things can go fuck themselves", you curse your heels, begrudgingly holding onto the archangel's arm still wrapped around your front for further balance as you step out of your heels one by one.

Immediate comfort makes you flex your feet when you feel the wooden floor beneath you. Then, when cracking sound comes from your toes, causing you to close your eyes for a second and sigh in relief. Then, a slight tightening at your waist makes you open them again and nearly reluctantly raise your gaze until it meets Lucifer's.

"Don't let the monkeys wait any longer". The devil steers you towards the door with a slight push after moving his wings out of the way, surprising you as you hadn't thought that was what he was going to say.

"No goodbye kiss?" It’s instinctive, but you put a fake-pout on the end of your question to not let the devil catch on to how you don’t want to part from him without a last goodbye this time.

His cocked brow doesn’t tell you whether he did or not, but it does reveal he considers your question. And, when he leans forwards, grips your chin and presses his lips against yours, it shows he’s much easier persuaded than you'd been earlier tonight.

"Now go before I keep you here for the rest of the night". There it was, you thought, chuckling as you unlocked and slipped out of the door with your heels in one hand and sensing the devil watch you disappear down the hallway.

Taglist: PS, I tagged the same people as in the original series. If any of you don't want to get tagged in the updates for this series (drabbles, one-shots etc.), just give me a heads up!

@the-fiery-ghost @ambivertedcroissant @xthefuckerysquaredx@americancowgirl19 @wayward-winsister @itsmeempar @alizayalove @aliceblxck @canyouimaginethatstory@musiclovinchic93 @eyghim18 @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog@emiliasaffron @batavrahamvsara @fanfic-love-show @imagine-inc @randomheart551 @brooklynchrr420 @shippinglover @bun-dpdbny @tardis-world@blonde-in-charge @jokersqueenofchaos @baybeekenzie1@fandomgeekforever @perilous-blue @mistress-sassafrass @book-of-anarchy @nerdettezebracorn333 @herlovetragedy @coolbean121@bagsy-not-it @abbyss @taikawho @sagyunaro @dementedsnowfox @kcam1621 @acaotch @crispycooter @browneyedgirl22 @misstress-sassafrass @bun-dpdbny @imagine-inc @enby-thesbian @stradlingmrstradlin @violetlilites @luciferslittledevil666 @butterflykiisies @antisocial-thing @destinationdesignation @big-bad-batsy @yournightmare-1987 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @brujaporfavor @galaxypox @whitetigerlover17 @loki-is-loved @leeannlips-blog @here4thespice

#lucifer supernatural #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader soulmate!au #lucifer x soulmate!reader #lucifer soulmate!au #lucifer x reader soulmate #soulmate!au #lucifer spn #lucifer drabble #lucifer oneshot #Sam Winchester #dean winchester

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