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some-bunniii · 3 months

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Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good?#my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

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steddiealltheway · 2 months

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It's Cass Day!!!! Happy happy happy happy birthday @henderdads. i love you so so much, and I'm so thankful that you let me plot all my fics and ficlets (including this one ha!) in your dms. (and of course, I'm thankful for you forever and always for everything). I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful birthday :))))

Wednesday afternoons are Steve’s favorite afternoon out of the whole week.

There’s something about pushing a squeaky cart around the local grocery store and making small talk with the Wednesday regulars - a gossipy book club of moms who do their shopping at the same time so they have more time to complain about their husbands - that really fills Steve heart. (Or maybe it’s just the slight bitchy side of him that loves to rag on Elizabeth’s husband Tom who really needs to get his head out of his ass and appreciate the beauty in front of him, and of course he can’t forget Charles, Lisa’s dick of a husband who apparently doesn’t know what a date night is, oh! And Margaret’s husband Al… and really, he could go on about these husbands for hours without getting tired of it)

Really, he loves the routine of it all. And the way the women dote on him for being so kind to his girlfriend back home - which he constantly reminds them is not his girlfriend. But he sometimes wishes the groceries in his cart and the scribbled list in his hand was for someone he could go back home to greet with a kiss. (After giving Robin a hug of course, because in any fantasy, some of those things on that list and in the cart are always going to be for Robin).

But really, it would be nice to have someone to brag about to the group. Maybe bring up their spirits that love is not lost and-

Steve stops in his tracks, all thoughts gone from his head as he does a double take at the magazine rack near the checkout. And yeah, he knows that Corroded Coffin is popular. Hell, he’s seen Eddie’s face on the same rack at least five times before. But never like this.

The picture on the front page is taken at a lower angle, with Eddie clad in leather pants and a tight mesh black shirt that might be a crop top, but Steve can’t tell with the way Eddie’s guitar is covering his midriff, hands flying over the frets, showing off silver rings glimmering under the stage lights including the one that Steve helped Dustin pick out for him as a celebratory gift. But as Steve’s eyes trace over Eddie’s bare arms and the stark black tattoos, he’s led to wild curls perfectly framing Eddie’s face which stares down at the cords, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows knitted together in concentration in a way that makes Steve feel weak in the knees.

And Steve’s suddenly hit with the question: Why didn’t anyone tell him that Eddie was hot???

He snatches the magazine off the rack before he can even really think about it, and tries not to think of what the moms will say about him when he leaves.

Maybe they’ll stop assuming he has a girlfriend at home at least.

During his drive home, he can’t help but think about the magazine laying between the loaf of bread and carton of ice cream that were packed together by the newest bag boy - which the ladies have a lot to say about, but Steve can’t think of anything besides that damn picture.

Once he’s back at the apartment, he puts the groceries away at an alarmingly fast rate, before making his way to the couch and laying back with the magazine in his hands.

It’s nice to see Eddie on the front cover of a magazine without it being attached to some weird scandal that Eddie had nothing to do with. Usually it’s an ill timed photo because he always happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this time…

Steve let’s out a deep breath and flips through the magazine, hoping that there’s some type of interview with more pictures that he can secretly stare at and panic about later.

There’s a bunch of boring looking articles and ads until he spots a page with bright red lettering and a number of pictures. Steve can’t help but wet his lips when he opens the page to find a picture of Eddie smiling at something off camera, looking totally different from the front cover. He just looks like… Eddie.

Yet, Steve finds his heart racing even harder at this picture, missing those dimples and that glimmer of mischief in Eddie’s eyes that’s usually directed at him. And Steve suddenly wonders what or who Eddie's looking at, feeling a bloom of jealousy in his chest.

He glances away from the picture and scans the page for another one. He smiles when he sees Eddie with the rest of his band mates, leaning heavily on Jeff while pulling his signature expression, nearly elbowing Jeff in the ribs to do his devil horns.

Steve laughs at Jeff’s face scowling down at him while Gareth and Frank cackle beside them. He wonders when they’ll be back in town.

Wait.

Steve dog ears the page before running up to his calendar where Robin had written “Dustin’s favorite day ever” on the upcoming Friday.

“Oh no,” Steve mutters to himself. That’s way too damn soon for Eddie to come home after Steve’s realization. He needs to give him at least two weeks to panic and process.

Okay, if Eddie was there with him, the panicking and processing would probably happen in two hours- no, minutes- maybe even seconds. But giving Steve two days is not the right amount of time. That’s just enough time for Steve to really start and settle into the panic. But hey, maybe he can dedicate the next twenty-four hours to panicking and the twenty-four hours after that to processing. Right?

Absolutely. He can do this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Robin, I can't do this."

Robin rolls her eyes at him. "I can't believe one picture wrecked you."

"It's not my fault! It's the damn photographer and whoever put that picture on the front cover," Steve complains, running a hand through his hair. "They're the ones who made me think of him like that."

"Uh huh."

Steve glances over at Robin who looks completely engrossed in painting her nails a deep purple color that looks black from where Steve is standing. He glances at himself in the mirror, nervously styling his hair before picking up the magazine from where it has made a permanent home on the coffee table. He flops down on the couch next to Robin who yelps and groans, "You made me smudge my nail polish!"

"We have more important things to worry about than the state of your nail polish."

Robin carefully cleans around the edge of her nail, stained with the dark color before turning to Steve. "Yes, the sudden realization that Eddie is hot is very important to me."

"You know what I mean," Steve sighs, leaning back against the couch as he opens the magazine to his favorite picture of Eddie in this edition. He looks at it for a moment, immediately closing it when he realizes he's smiling.

Robin blows on her nails and frowns before glancing back at Steve. "Okay. He's going to be here in less than an hour. How can I help you? Although, I really don't think you'll need my help at all."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, a pinch forming between his brows.

Robin gives him a look. "You're going to act weird around him. He's going to eventually pick up on it. And then you're going to confess all these feelings you're having and then..." Robin has a sudden look of realization and immediate disappointment. "Then, I'm going to have to find somewhere else to stay tonight since you told Eddie he could stay here on the couch, which is not going to happen after your little confession."

"He's going to leave?" Steve asks quickly in confusion and slight panic.

Robin huffs, "No, he's going to be staying in your bed. And I really do not want to hear that."

Steve frowns. "You don't even know if he thinks I'm hot."

A look passes over Robin's face, first humor, then a bit of confusion, disbelief, and, once again, disappointment. "Steve," she asks, grabbing his hand, eyes staring hard into his. "This whole time you've had the magazine, you never read the interview?" Robin asks as if it's the most important question she's ever asked him.

"Why would I read it?" Steve asks with a shake of his head. When Robin's jaw drops, he gets the sudden message that he is definitely missing something. He snatches up the magazine and flips it open, somehow not getting to the interview right away although he was sure that he opened it to that page so much that it permanently creased the spine.

Just as he gets to it. There's a loud, persistent knock on the door.

Steve's and Robin's eyes meet in a panic. "Hide the magazine," Robin all but hisses as she makes it to the door raising her voice to say, "We have neighbors! Keep it down, dingus!"

Steve looks around, wondering if he can shove the magazine under the couch, but he knows Eddie would somehow see it in his antics. When he spots the stack of magazines on their side table, he rushes to put the magazine right in the middle of them. Hiding in plain sight. Perfect.

He stands up as soon as the door swings open, trying not to look guilty and failing miserably, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he realizes it's only Dustin. "Henderson," he says with a goofy smile launching into their handshake and ending it with a quick laugh, knocking off Dustin's hat to ruffle his hair.

When Dustin starts complaining about his hat being on the floor, Steve bends down to pick it up, only for a pale, ring-clad hand to grab onto it at the same time Steve does.

Steve glances up and locks eyes with Eddie. His heart starts to pound at an alarming rate as he takes in the familiar deep brown irises, moving on to take in the slight blush on Eddie's cheeks alongside a wide smile. "Steeeve Harrington," Eddie drawls out, the way he does when he hasn't seen him in a while.

"Munson," Steve says with a nod, a wide smile tugging at his lips that he tries to push down, as he always does when it comes to Eddie as if pretending not to care. The same way he does when he's trying to get someone to like him...

Oh.

Shit, he doesn't just think he's hot. He likes him. Hell, he's liked him for a long time even. And now he has even less time to panic about that.

Steve glances up, finding that Eddie has stood up, hat still between their hands as he stares down confusedly at Steve. He offers a hand, and Steve takes it, easily being pulled up into his space. He lingers close to Eddie, eyes dipping down to his lips, realizing how much he wants- needs this.

He glances up at Eddie, finding his pupils blown wide and his brow furrowed. And Steve finally feels that electricity that he's been searching months- no, years for.

"Am I getting my hat back?" Dustin asks, clearly annoyed.

Steve and Eddie both shove the hat over at the same time, eyes reluctantly leaving each other, only for Steve to see Robin giving him an unimpressed look. He can practically see her trying to figure out who she's going to call to spend the night with.

Steve glances back at Eddie and rushes out, "It's- uh, good to see you again."

Eddie grabs a strand of hair and pulls it in front of his face, kicking nothing as he says, "You miss me, Steve?"

Steve shakes his head automatically, "No." He turns to Dustin and asks him when the others are getting there, but his question is answered when the door opens behind them again.

"Do you guys knock?" Robin asks, stealing the words out of Steve's mouth.

"Do you guys lock your door?" Mike snarks back.

Steve sighs and moves to Robin's side, watching as the kids all greet Eddie excitedly. "Why don't they greet us like that?" Steve quietly bitches.

"Because we're not famous and gone all the time," Robin answers with a frown. "By the way, tonight is going totally as I planned."

Steve rolls his eyes. "No, it is not. I have been acting completely normally around him."

"Yeah, because you two have the tendency to eye fuck each other for an uncomfortable amount of time." Robin pauses and considers what she said. "Actually, I take that back. You two are acting completely normal."

"Since when do we-"

"Hey," Eddie says, successfully cutting Steve off, "When the pizzas get here, I'm paying."

Robin nudges Steve in the side after a few seconds pass, and Steve can't help but stare at the man instead of processing anything he said. "Hmm?"

"I'm paying for the pizza you all ordered," Eddie says, brows still furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Steve nods and crosses his arms. "Yes, it's just that we didn't order any pizza."

"But Dustin said..." Eddie trails off and glances at the kids. "Those little shits."

"Someone needs to give them a stern talking to."

Eddie raises his brows. "Are you shirking your co-parenting duties while I'm away?"

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm keeping your sheep in line."

Eddie offers him a big smile and leans in to say, "Sorry, I can't be here often, sweetheart."

Steve shoves him away with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the way his heart flutters at the nickname. "Go do your part and entertain them."

"And pay for the food!" Eddie reminds him yet again, walking toward the group, eyes not leaving Steve.

"My hero," Steve says, taking a page from Eddie's book of dramatics by crossing his hands over his heart and fluttering his lashes.

Eddie stops in his tracks, looking over him before shaking his head and going to the table where everyone is setting up.

"That was painful to witness," Robin says, scaring the shit out of Steve. She crosses her arms. "Did you really forget I was here?" When Steve doesn't respond, she walks away, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Steve runs a hand through his hair, willing his heart to slow down before he has to sit through this long-ass campaign - that he secretly really enjoys, but no one except Robin will ever know.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, Steve finds himself giving the kids hugs as they rush out his door, nearly missing their curfew. When they make their way to Eddie, he whispers to Robin, "See, the night didn't go as planned at all."

Robin raises her eyebrows at him and whispers back, "Yeah, you're not going to act weird at all when you two are alone."

Steve gives her a panicked look. "What do you mean- you're not leaving are you?"

Robin throws her hands up in a shrug as she backs up into her room, leaving the door open as she very obviously packs an overnight bag. Steve wonders if there is any way to stop her without alerting Eddie.

"What's Buckley doing?" Eddie asks, startling Steve. Eddie reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? You've been on edge all night."

Steve nods automatically. "Yeah, I'm fine." And yeah, he is fine. And he has not been on edge at all because that would mean that Robin is right.

Speak of the devil... "I'm heading out tonight! You two have fun," Robin says with a salute. "I'll see you tomorrow." Before Steve or Eddie can stop her, she's already out the door, leaving them entirely alone. Steve doesn't even remember when the kids all left.

"I'm guessing you know what that's about," Eddie says, eyebrows disappearing under his bangs as he stares at the door.

"No idea," Steve replies, making his way back to the dining area to clean up the remaining mess the teens made, and really he was going to have to give them another lecture about cleaning up after themselves.

"Steve," Eddie says softly.

Steve hums in response but doesn't dare to look his way as he stacks up various empty plastic cups.

"Steve," Eddie tries again.

And Steve knows that tone. Knows that if he fully engages, Eddie will want to have a serious conversation which is not something they often do. So he just keeps cleaning until there's nothing left to do except brush imaginary crumbs off the table.

"Steve," Eddie says, voice impossibly close to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and turns to him, heart skipping a beat when he finds Eddie hovering in his space.

"What's going on?" Eddie asks gently.

Steve shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing." He quickly moves away from Eddie, grabbing a napkin off one of the kitchen counters and tossing it into the trash on his way to the living room.

"Why are you acting weird?"

"I'm not," Steve says, resting his hands on his hips in the same way he does when the kids start to annoy him.

Eddie raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, staring but not saying anything.

Steve stares back, jutting his hip out in a show of how adamant he is about his answer.

After a few tense seconds pass by, Eddie slowly walks closer to him, and Steve fights for his eyes to not flicker down to his lips. When Eddie is within arms reach, he leans forward. "Steve, what is wrong?"

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes betray him and flicker to the stack of magazines beside the couch. He tries to keep his features carefully blank, but he sees the moment Eddie realizes there is something significant about that glance.

Before Steve can stop him, Eddie is diving down to the magazines, snatching up the whole stack in his arms. Steve moves forward to grab them, only to realize his error when Eddie scoots back and smiles wildly. "This is it, isn't it? What, did you hide a filthy magazine inside here or something?"

"Eddie..." Steve warns, standing above him, hands still on his hips.

Eddie smiles before turning his eyes to the stack and leafing through them. Steve moves down quickly, knocking the magazines out of his hands as he practically straddles Eddie. He stares down at him, eyes wide, about to move back when he notices Eddie's eyes resting on his stomach.

Steve glances down between them only to see the image of Eddie on the front cover staring back at him.

"Shit, I didn't know they released that yet," Eddie says, laying fully back, hands dragging over his face. He lets them rest there before spreading his fingers to ask, "You read the interview, didn't you?"

"No," Steve says honestly.

Eddie frowns and props himself up on his elbows. "When did you get this?"

"Wednesday." And curse his damn mouth for rambling without his permission.

"You got this two days ago but haven't read the interview?" Eddie's expression shifts from fearful to cocky. "Steve Harrington, did you buy this just to stare at me?"

"No," Steve says, crossing his arms.

Eddie sits up fully, and Steve becomes very aware of the way he's still sitting on top of Eddie's thighs. "Did you get all flustered about this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine teasingly.

Steve's eyes flicker to the front cover again, and his lips suddenly feel very dry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. He glances back at Eddie and shrugs. "You look fine."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

"Has anyone ever told you you need to get your ego in check?"

Eddie smirks at him. "Why would I need to do that when I know Steeeeve Harrington bought the magazine with my face on it?"

"Stop saying my name like that," Steve says, leaning forward trying to be menacing, but only satisfying Eddie by getting closer to him.

"Why? Steeev-" Eddie's cut off when Steve suddenly moves forward and kisses him, hands flying up into his curls to pull him closer.

Steve stills before pulling back, searching Eddie's eyes.

"You...?" Eddie asks before raking a hand through his hair. "You actually bought it to stare at me?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You already knew that since I'm 'such a bad liar,'" Steve says adding air quotes.

"I was hoping you were. Christ, Steve, this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "You look hot!"

"Christ," Eddie says again, this time dropping the magazine to pull Steve into another kiss. He breaks it to mumble, "I can't believe you haven't read the damn interview." His hands run through Steve's hair messing up the strands before he pulls back suddenly. "Wait."

"Yeah?" Steve asks as Eddie's eyes practically glaze over in panic.

Eddie's chest heaves for a second before he says, "Fuck, you bought it because you thought I'm hot not because... fuck." He looks away from Steve and stares down at the magazine as if it personally offended him.

"Huh?" Steve asks, knees starting to ache on the hardwood floor. He climbs off of Eddie with a groan, but Eddie must take it wrong because he almost immediately stands up.

"Sorry, it's stupid," Eddie says with a humorless laugh. "Hey, do you think Buckley will be upset if I take her bed for the night? It's been a long day, and I'm about ready to clonk out."

Steve can feel his face morph into an expression of bewilderment. "Eddie, what?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. Dumb idea. Robin would kill me. I'll take the couch like usual."

Steve carefully stands and steps into Eddie's space, but Eddie sidesteps him easily. He watches as he flops down on the couch, refusing to look at him.

Steve's eyes settle back on the magazine, reaching down to grab it to find whatever the hell is in that interview.

"Steve, please don't."

Steve ignores Eddie the same way he ignored him, opening the magazine to the same page his eyes have landed on several times before. His eyes settle on the image of Eddie before moving to the words, skimming before he finds his own name staring back at him. He backtracks, looking at the question and answer.

Do you guys have any sources of inspiration?

Jeff: Oh, Eddie sure does.

Frank: He has what you might call a muse back at home.

Eddie: Please shut up.

Gareth: A beautiful muse with the most beautiful hair you've ever seen.

Eddie: Please stop talking about Stevie.

Jeff: He's just shy when it comes to his little crush.

Eddie: Next question, please.

Steve glances up at Eddie who sits red-faced on the couch. He clears his throat. "They told me they would cut it out entirely, but then they reached out later saying it was too good not to publish, but they did me the favor of changing your name to something more feminine so they didn't out me. Still fucked though. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess."

Steve looks back at the magazine and then at Eddie. "Is it true?"

Eddie groans and lays back on the couch dramatically. "Please don't make me answer that. I've gotten enough shit from the guys, and I know you don't feel that way about me. It's okay that you only find me hot, I'll take what I can."

It hits Steve all at once what Eddie's sudden dramatics are about. "Oh my god. Eddie, I like you, too!"

Eddie's head pops up. "What?"

Steve turns the magazine to him and points at the picture of Eddie laughing. "This is what I've been so flustered and weird about. Yes, the front cover made me realize that, hey, I find you really attractive. But I've been staring at this picture for way longer, and I didn't know why until you got here tonight. And it hit me that I like you. I think I have for a long time, but I just didn't connect the dots before."

"You like me?" Eddie echos, dumbfounded.

Steve laughs. "Yes, I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't have feelings for you."

"That's a fucking relief," Eddie says, scrambling off the couch and racing to pull Steve into another kiss.

Steve smiles into the kiss, pulling Eddie as close to him as possible as Eddie attempts to do the same.

"I'm going to give that photographer the biggest tip ever," Eddie says breaking the kiss for a moment only to kiss him again.

Steve smiles so wide that he can barely kiss Eddie back. When they break away, Steve says, "I'm going to have to buy another."

"Why?"

"I have to get the front picture and the interview framed," Steve says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course," Eddie says with a laugh before wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," Steve replies.

They hold each other for a while, not willing to break the moment until a sudden thought has Steve groaning.

"What?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look at him.

"Robin was right."

Eddie smiles. "When is she not?"

"Never," Steve answers simply.

They stand in each other's arms just happy to be so close, taking each other in as if it's for the first time. Steve wonders what to tell the Wednesday regulars and how they'd respond if he introduced Eddie to them. He thinks back to Lisa's comments about how the group should just date each other and how Sarah had responded with a little too much enthusiasm, and Steve thinks things will be just fine.

"What are you thinking about?"

Steve shakes his head with a smile. "What are you doing this Wednesday?" he asks, making a mental note to add two frames, another magazine, and Robin's favorite ice cream to the list.

"Anything you want," Eddie replies easily.

And with that, Steve finds himself looking forward to his Wednesday afternoon even more than usual.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #robin buckley

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fireflyinks · 5 months

Text

good boy ⭒

reader x peeta mellark smut

a/n : i’m actually screaming this was so fun to write, pls repost if ya like it!! 💗

contains : sub peeta mellark, soft dom reader, praise kink, multiple rounds, peeta and the reader own a bakery, pinv, talk of having kids, no protection, riding

MATURE 18+

Peeta Mellark was a hard worker. Partly because that’s just who he was as an individual, but mainly because of his upbringing. The need to impress ran through his body as if it were his own blood. He craved praise, feened off of it as if it were a sweet, sweet nectar.

This notion was very present in his every day life. When he’d accidently burn a loaf or spill a bag of flour, his face would turn a rosey pink shade out of shame and he’s scramble to fix his mistake. His puppy dog eyes would shoot over to me, as if to scream “I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”, only to be met with a peck on the cheek and a whisper of “It’s okay, you’re fine”. His eyes would soften, and his hands would become less clammy, brow less furrowed, and cheeks even rosier.

If I dared to give him a slight compliment in the morning, the blonde’s head would be in the clouds for the rest of the day, almost in a trance from the mere thought of his special girl thinking he was admirable.

At first, I thought this whole ordeal was sort of sad, I mean depressing even. Peeta was just so love starved.

But then I learned how to use it to my advantage.

There he was, on top of me, trying his very best to impress me. His cock pistoned in and out vigorously, each one of my moans encouraging him. My back arched off of the sheets as I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get him deeper.

He understood this rather quickly, trading speed for force and plunging himself directly into my core.

“Good boy.” I moaned out, almost automatically. His pace faltered for a moment, starstruck.

“Say that again.” He whimpered.

“Say what baby?” I questioned, confused as to why he’d stopped.

“Uh, please can you um call me a good boy again?” He mumbled. Something in his eyes had shifted, he looked almost helpless.

“Well…” I decided to tease him, rile him up more. “I can only do that if you act like one, so if you fuck me real good, yeah, you can be my good boy.”

Peeta nodded, beginning to thrust into me once again, determined to be a good boy.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” I cooed, gazing up at him with major ‘fuck me’ eyes.

His jaw slacked and he moaned deeply. “You’re so- fuck, you’re so hot.”

I giggled at the love drunk expression on his face. “Thank you, my handsome boy.”

I felt his cock twitch inside of me. God, praise really did have an effect on him.

“I- oh baby I’m gonna come.”

I moaned as he fucked me deeply, hitting my g-spot with each thrust.

“Go ahead, come inside of me like a good boy.”

His eyes rolled back into his head as he came with his new found permission. He pulled out immediately, connecting our lips before lying down beside me.

“That was- fuck, amazing.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

There was silence for a few moments before he realized.

He sprung into apology immediately.

“Holy shit baby, you didn’t come, did you? I’m so sorry love, I’ll do whatever you want, eat you out, fuck you again, whatever you want. I’m so stupid, I don’t know how I-“

I pressed my lips to his to shut him up as I climbed on top of him.

“No baby, you don’t have to ride me, I’m the one who messed up. Let me-“

“Peeta, I want you to be a good boy and listen to me.”

I angled his wet cock upward before sinking down onto it. I began working my hips.

“You are not stupid, you are so smart.” I bounced on him as I spoke, “you’re so good to me, everybody makes mistakes and that’s ok. You have gotten me off a million times before. You’re such a good fucking boy.”

He began to look away as blush creeped into his face. I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me in my eyes.

“You’re so handsome baby, ah fuck- you’re such a hard worker, and you’ll make an amazing father one day.”

My legs began to shake as I released on his lap, my cum flowing down his cock. I continued to ride him throughout my high.

“Now say it to me.” I ordered.

“You’re so beauti-“

I shook my head, “No, tell me about how much of a good boy you are.”

His face contorted, clearly too shy to say such things.

I touched his face lightly, “Peeta, good boys do what they’re told. Be a good boy.”

He nodded, “Um- I’m a good boy.” He whimpered, unsure of himself.

“I don’t believe you. Say it like you mean it.”

He cleared his throat, looking into my eyes. “I’m a good boy. I made a mistake and that’s ok. I’m so handsome and will make a really good father. Fuck- I’m gonna come.”

He released inside of me, painting my spongy walls white. His voice filled the room with pornographic noises. After letting him catch his breath, I crawled off of him. Peeta walked into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a damp rag and a smile on his face.

He began to slowly clean me up. I looked in between my thighs and laughed at the amount of semen that had collected.

“Jeez, if we don’t start being more careful, you might be an amazing father sooner than we’d imagined.”

He chuckled, pressing his lips onto mine. “I’d be ok with that.”

#the hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #praise #bakery au #fanfiction #smut #josh hutcherson #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader

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snapnov4 · 7 months

Text

i was made for lovin' you, baby!

synopsis: jjk men falling in love with you

wc: 1.7k

a/n: vela returns from a victorious (not intended) year long hiatus and very solemnly offers you the headcanons she's been desperately cooking up for way too long, enjoy <3 don't forget to reblog!

✰ kento doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's making the two of you dinner. you're sprawled out on his couch, talking about your recent mission. the two of you aren't even dating. you just end up together at the end of every day. it all feels so intimate. as he listens to you talk, he notices he’s picking out the parts you don't like, setting them to the side. he remembers when he was a kid, and his mother told him food was a labor of love. he recalls that bakery he used to frequent when he was still working a regular job, how the smell of the bread and sweets was comforting, and how the girl who worked at the counter always had a fresh loaf for him. as he's sitting across from you at his dinner table that’s only big enough for two, he feels like his world is shifting on his axis a bit.

kento’s always enjoyed listening to you talk; much to gojo’s dismay, you're the only person nanami could listen to for hours. you're talking so vibrantly, moving your hands to illustrate actions, and he feels terrible about the fact that he can't hear anything you're saying. instead, he's thinking of the lunches you bring for him, the way your pinky touches his ever so slightly, like some silly school kids. he thinks of how you rest your head on his shoulder when you're stuck on a long commute from a mission; he thinks of your shoes by his at the door, a spare coat on his rack, an extra cursed tool in his closet. he thinks of your easy smiles and lively laughs. he thinks of how you easily fall against him no matter how you feel, whether it be a fit of uncontrollable laughter or a collapse after a long day. you're not dating; no one even thinks you're dating, but nanami’s heart practically swells when you seek him out through the day, placing a hand over his paperwork and telling him to take a break. he thinks of how you always kiss him on the cheek when you leave and always remember to text him that you've gotten home safely. if you're not so tired that you're sprawled on his couch with a blanket he's saved for you. he thinks about how, if he stayed working that awful job, he'd never have this, never have you, in your own unique way. he wasn't sure why he kept being a sorcerer; he just presumed that he’d work until he died. however, sitting across from you, talking animatedly about some shenanigan yuuji has wrapped you into, he feels content. it's almost like this could mean something; maybe his life is truly just a cycle, all leading to an uneventful death, but with you by his side, he thinks, it feels worth it.

✰ toji is not in love with you, or at least that's what he says. however, he realizes he may be that fond of you on a quiet evening. toji never expected to find himself so soft and domestic. he'd liked you because of your take-no-shit attitude; when he met you in some dark bar some months ago, watching you turn down every suitor who came your way, he accepted the challenge. he'd find you at least once a week, always in the same spot, and he's the only guy you let buy you drinks, the only one allowed to sling an arm around your shoulders. you made him wait for it. but now, months later, you let him wrap his arms around you without a word, and you're so quiet and calm, completely and utterly relaxed, and it's so good. toji’s hands are far from clean, he's far from the kind of upstanding guy he thinks you truly deserve, but you lay in his arms so easily, as if you couldn't care less what he's done. you drag your finger across his scars. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth without recoiling at the feeling of scar tissue. you're almost too good to be true. he thinks of all the times you've patched him up, brows knitted in careful concentration, telling him, “this might sting,” even though he'd walked in practically unaffected by the injury in the first place. the way you forced him to tell you what he did for a living, and even though he didn't spare the gritty details, you still seemed not to care, as long as he was coming back safe. he's come to expect you to be standing at the door, sitting at the table, or lying on the couch when he gets home. right now, you're lying in his arms, completely unaware of just how much he loves you and loves this. your hand is in his, silently twiddling with his fingers as your eyes focus on whatever movie or tv show you've taken an interest in now. he decides he’ll leave it all behind for you. all of it. when he finishes this next job, he’ll buy a ring. then he’ll get a regular job, and finally, he’ll be happy.

✰ satoru realizes he's in love with you on a seemingly ordinary day. he's finished work for the day, or rather, for the last two days. he hasn't slept in three, and his head is starting to kill him, even with his reversed cursed technique. right now, he only wants to get home, eat something sweet, and collapse in bed. when he walks into his usually quiet and organized apartment, he realizes quite a few things. there's a bag of that mochi from that place in sendai that he loves, and a note beside it reads, “the kids and i picked these up for you!” he recognizes your handwriting, messily scrawled as if you were in a hurry. next, he notices that every blanket (except for his, he silently hopes) is spread across the floor in the living room, nestled in what seems like the coziest pile ever is you and the kids. megumi is on your left, and tsumiki is on your right. the three of you are sleeping so soundly that he almost wants to kill every higher-up for pulling him away from you, from this, from his family. as he looks at you nestled between megumi and tsumiki, he realizes that's exactly where he wants you to be.

the three of you have been knocked out for a while; your limbs tangled and blankets moved. after showering quickly, he finds out that his blanket was not exempt from the fort, but he doesn't even mind as he makes his way back to the living room, scooting in next to a sleeping megumi, and he watches for a bit. studies the way your chest rises and falls, the way you so easily let the kids relax against you, the way your mouth hangs open so hilariously that he wishes he'd snapped a photo while he was still up. he feels his heart swell immensely when he finally does lay down, and megumi nestles his face into his shoulder, and you feeling the sudden movement, throw your arm across him. satoru never thought he could feel this soft. the privilege of meaning something to you, to these kids, is better than any sorcerer grade, any title, anything. when he settles down, his arm so long he can reach all the way over the three of you. he recognizes the sock you're wearing. it's black and probably way too expensive; if he squints a bit, he can almost see the custom embroidered “GS” on every piece of clothing he owns (clan habits die hard). he can't stop the soft smile that spreads across his face. of course, you love him; you're wearing one of his socks.

✰ suguru isn't the kind of guy to be surprised by his own feelings. at least before you, he wasn't. however, he finds you surprise him every day; every little habit of yours implants itself in his brain. he could spend hours just watching you do the most mundane tasks, but when he truly realizes he's in love with you, it’s early one morning. he's sitting on his bed, watching you get ready at the vanity he bought just for you, half of it your makeup and the other half various products he puts in his hair. he feels infatuated with you. your entire routine is done with so much care and attention that he can't help it. he's been watching you get ready every morning for the better part of two months. but what really gets him is the way you've changed your routine to involve him. a small kiss to his lips every morning, setting your alarm earlier so you really can stay in bed for “five more minutes,” drinking your coffee at home because he makes it the best. always asking him, which shirt looks better? what color should I wear? rattling off all your daily tasks, turning to see suguru holding your keys, or your wallet, or your umbrella right as you begin to ask where it is. and most recently, indulging him by picking a vanity, after you complained about being tired of doing your makeup standing up in his bathroom and how the drawer you've been keeping your products in was starting to overflow. geto’s obsessed with watching you do your makeup, sitting behind you on the bed, quietly admiring the way your hand moves in practiced steady strokes. he loves the way you silently curse if you mess up your wing, he loves the way you still suck your cheeks in to do your blush, he loves the way you sit in front of the mirror silently debating on wearing your hair up or down or maybe a mix of both. he loves how you apply lip gloss, the last step of your routine. always the last step, because the goodbye kiss at the front door leaves more of it on him than on you. he watches with a soft smile and sticky lips as you reapply your gloss in the mirror in the entryway, smiling when you catch his eye in the mirror. laughs at the way you roll your eyes but don't stop him from pulling you back in the doorway, kissing you again because he “already misses you,” so finally, you add reapplying your lip gloss in the car to your morning routine, while suguru adds loving you to his, but that was already there, wasn't it?

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laiiaaa · 8 months

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grocery trips with Carmen are so special to me. u don't understand.

When he lived alone he rarely bothered to make dignified trips—this much you knew, because the first time you were over his old apartment you had to ask if he ate anything in his time off. All he had was a sad loaf of bread, some condiments, chips, and a few cans of soda. But now that you’re living together, in a new place with a new fridge and a new kitchen, he takes it very seriously.

He keeps a handwritten list so he doesn’t forget anything, he has a steadfast route he follows every time, and he leads the way while you push the cart and trail behind. Definitely gets caught in his own world looking at produce, but keeps a hand tethered to the end of the cart just to make sure you’re still there. Mumbles to himself about how the fuckers keep hiking up the prices for stuff that’s in season, and if you ask him what he said, he’ll just tell you, “It’s nothin’, baby” and go right back to talking to himself with a furrowed brow.

He’s exceedingly particular about how he arranges the cart, stares at it for a few seconds when he adds a few things just to make sure everything computes. But every time, he looks back at you with a half smile before moving a few steps closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead, or your cheek, or your temple, as his hand rubs affectionately on your shoulder. He can’t get enough of the way you trail behind him, arms leaning against the cart’s handle as you chat about your plans for the week, or the hot goss at work, or anything else that piques your interest. He just wants to listen to what’s on your mind while he ticks off products on his list.

A bittt of a control freak, too. Not in the sense that he won’t let you do anything or pick up a snack you want, just that he has to work it into his route first. Doesn’t like it when you wander off to grab something right away and he honestly gets insecure about it, starts thinking he’s boring you or taking too long or that he’s being too hard on you.

“It took me ten seconds, Carm, it was just in the next aisle.”

“No, no, I know that, I just, um…” He nods his head persistently, hands on his hips and eyes downcast—that classic look he gets when he’s thinking too hard about something. “Y’know, if—you don’t have to come, if you don’t want to…y’know I can—” Stumbling for the way to word the thoughts he can’t fully wrap his head around himself. "If you don't like it—"

“Hey—” You wait for him to meet your eyes, and when he does, you soften. Stepping close to him, you pry one of his hands away and instead tangle it with yours. “C'mon, I love doing this with you, y’know?”

He lets out a careful breath, and his chest relaxes at your tenderness.

“I want to be here, just following you around. I just wanna spend time with you, okay Bear?”

He pauses, has to swallow what you say before he can respond. “Yeah,” he nods, “Okay.”

“Good.”

When you press a kiss to his cheek, he gives one right back to you, keeps it sweet and brief as a soft smile curls at the corners of his mouth, chest warm and calm before getting back to business.

Does not, under any circumstances, let you pay. Won't let you open your purse. Doesn’t want you lifting even a finger to line up items on the conveyor belt. No, not that bag of chips you snagged, either. If you start helping he’ll nudge you away from the cart and take your spot, or just take whatever you’re holding out of your hands while shooting you a look.

“I got it, baby.”

“But I wanna help.”

“Uh-uh, I’m takin’ care of it—”

“I can lift a bag of apples—”

He raises his brows again and cocks his head to the side, making you freeze. “Just lemme do it for us, aight?”

You huff but concede anyway. “Fine.”

Yet another kiss to your temple, and he’s pulling out his wallet to grab his card. “Thank you, baby.”

After that it’s borderline criminal for you to even think about helping. He pushes the cart to the car, loads the bags in the trunk, drives home, carries the groceries up to the apartment, stocks everything where it belongs. Kisses you sporadically along the way, maybe lets himself get distracted when you pull him back for more. Just maybe.

He takes care of it—all of it—for you, because you being with him makes him more content than he’s ever been, and ever thought he could be. He's so in awe of you that nothing feels like quite enough to express it.

#he's also def the type to be a stickler for reusable bags #my sustainable lil cutie #will also insist on cooking for you right after #that man does not REST when it comes to his girl #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear season 2

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Called to Duty 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You rub your lower back as you enter the bakery. You focus on the simple task; just a loaf of bread. You have a weak spot for the sourdough there. Just thinking about it, you could salivate.

You wait behind another customer. You think she works at the bank but you’ve never been very good with faces, even in a small town like Hammer Ford. Others don’t seem to have that issue as your name easily rolls off their tongues. The whispers are getting louder now that you can’t hide as easily.

The bank clerk sidles along the counter and glances over her shoulder as you shuffle forward. She sends you a judgmental look but you reserve any of the same. Everyone knows she’s sneaking around with the manager down at her branch.

You tug your shirt down as it threatens to ride further up your stomach. Everything’s too tight these days. Everything’s uncomfortable. Your fingers linger on the hem, touching the taught flesh beneath. Four months now.

“Hi,” you greet the woman behind the till, “can I get a loaf of the sourdough. I’ll take the day old for the discount if you got it.”

She smiles brightly and repeats your order, asking if there’s anything else. You say no. You budgeted for the bread, even a tea would put you too close to the line. She grabs you a loaf and she keys in the day-old discount.

You pay as she slips the wrapped loaf into a paper bag. Before you can turn away, she stops you, “have a cookie,” she points to the plate of shortbread beside the small specials sign. “They’re not moving.”

“I can’t,” you argue.

“You’re doing me a favour. I don’t like to throw them away,” she insists.

You smile sheepishly and take a cookie, hugging the bag above your stomach as you turn and nibble on the cookie. You cross to the door, juggling your armload as you open it, and leaving without a look back. You hear your name again before the door closes.

Who’s the father…

That’s the big question. You’re not married, not dating, so who could it be? The same question got you kicked out of your mother’s house. The pharmacy let you the dingy bachelor above as you spend your days working a till at the front.

You won’t say it, even to dispel the murmurs. You know it wouldn’t solve anything, only add fuel to the fire. ‘She should’ve known better. The golden prince of Hammer Ford is a known playboy. Why wouldn’t she be safe? Why wouldn’t she be responsible?’ They wouldn’t ask the same of him.

As you turn onto the street, your arm hits someone else and you drop the cookie. It cracks on the pavement and you look down, leaning forward to see the ruins. You deflate. Oh well, it was free, after all.

“Sorry,” a voice draws your attention from the spoiled shortbread. You look up at the man. You know him, you think. Again, you’re no good with faces.

He runs his hand over his shaved head then drags it around his beard, “I’ll get you another.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you wave him off, “I should go…”

“Miss, it’s the right thing to do,” he insists.

“Really, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“Me too,” he agrees.

You tilt your head and push a shoulder up, “well, have a good one.”

You turn to cross the road, looking both ways. As you step down from the curb, the man does the same. Why can’t you remember his name? You swear you ran into him before. Down at The Horn with… him.

He walks parallel to you as you cross the street. You stop and look at him, confused.

“Just seeing you across, miss.”

“Uh, thanks, that’s very nice but you don’t have to do that,” you chuckle nervously.

“I know. Just what I’m trained to do.”

You remember, he’s a soldier. Yeah, Thor mentioned that. Just thinking his name stings.

“Right, well, thanks, I appreciate that,” you put your hand on your stomach and haul the bag higher, turning toward the pharmacy just a shop down.

You hear him follow you again. It makes you nervous. Is he going to the pharmacy? It could be a coincidence, it’s a small town. Still, it’s very odd.

You go to the door just past the store entrance and take out your key. He comes right up and watches you, looming strangely at your shoulder. You hold onto your key and face him.

“You’re pregnant,” he says as if you don’t know.

“Uh, yeah,” you nearly laugh, “I am.”

“Shouldn’t be carrying all that,” he says.

“Just bread,” you answer.

“That father should be getting you bread,” he argues.

You’re put off by his demeanour. He speaks as if he’s giving orders to the world around him. You guess that’s just his nature.

“He won’t be doing that,” you shake your head. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t remember me,” he adds, “I remember you. You were dancing and drinking.” He looks again at your stomach. You put your hand over it defensively.

“I wasn’t like this then.”

“You weren’t,” he frowns then points to your finger, “no ring?”

This is awkward. Where everyone else in Hammer Ford is happy to whisper behind their hands, he’s interrogating you in the street. You shake your head and look down.

“Must not be a real man who did that,” he comments, “I’m Sy, just to remind you.”

“Sy,” you sniff, “right, I–”

He says your name first, “I remember.” He taps his temple, “I won’t forget.”

You swallow and the bag crinkles against your chest, “I’m… gonna go, uh, Sy, my feet hurt.”

“Be safe,” he commands.

“Thanks,” you utter awkwardly and stick your key in the slot. He stands staunchly as he is and as you pull the door open, he reaches to open it all the way and holds it, “got it.”

You keep the fragile smile on your lips and bow inside. He lets it close slowly and you pause to make sure he’s on the other side. You twist the lock into place and recoil. That was very weird.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #called to duty #sand castle

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louloulemons-posts · 9 months

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Jealousy

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie likes you, but you’re with Harrington, right?

Word Count : 1.9k

Warnings : Not Proofread, fluff, stoners, use of weed and alcohol, the stranger things teens actually acting like teens lol, swears, cuteness, ft Nancy, Robin, Jonathan and Steve, jealous eds this was wrote a 3am so the spelling is probably atrocious.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Every time I tell you to bring a jacket and every time you’re like, ‘No Steve I won’t get cold’,” he spoke, mocking you as he did.

“I’m not cold, you’re the one freaking out!”

“You have goosebumps, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he said, throwing his blue jacket at your head. Smacking you straight in the face. “I honestly question why we’re still friends sometimes.”

“Guys let’s go,” Robin moaned, stood waiting for you. “We’re coming,” you said, jogging up to her, linking arms. “It’s fine just abandon me. Don’t worry about it,” Steve shouted.

“Okay,” you said in sync, laughing to yourselves. “Hey guys!” a familiar voice spoke. Eddie walked over to you, dressed in his normal attire of denim vest, jeans and leather jacket. Cute.

“Munson, you made it,” Steve said happily, “Now I won’t have to spend the night being bullied by these two demons.” You linked your free arm through Eddies, “You’re right! You can be bullied by the three of us.”

“I hate you all,” Steve groaned.

“You know you love us,” Robin said, grabbing Steve’s arm. “So are Wheeler and Byers meeting us there?” Eddie asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, Nance had work so they’re coming a little later.” He hummed in acknowledgement. You began chatting with Robin as you walked, the four of you still linked together.

You didn’t notice the curly haired boys eyes on you, well actually what you were wearing to be specific. Harringtons jacket. Just like a few days ago, you stole his yellow jumper, untying it from his waist.

It broke his heart, he’d always liked you, never got round to telling you. He couldn’t. He was Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You were everything. Your friendship was enough for him, but seeing you, watching you and Steve.

“You good?” you asked him.

“Oh yeah I’m fine, you?”

“Peachy!” you smiled up at him, making his heart flutter. “How’s your uncle Wayne?”

“He’s doing well. He told me to tell you he’s willing to pay you to make him more of that banana loaf.”

You laughed at that, “I’ll make sure too, no payment necessary though. He’s a nice man.” Humming again in agreement.

Robin spoke up, “This looks like a good spot, clear enough to see the fireworks.”

There was some huge celebration for Hawkins happening tonight. Fireworks, a party, the whole big sha-bang. You guys decided to have your own little party, some food, snacks, pot, and good company.

Steve threw a blanket down on the floor, “Nance said she’s bringing another with her,” he explained. You were sat by Lovers lake, it was so peaceful this time of year.

The orange skies reflecting off the still water. “Y/N.”

“Hm?” you asked turning towards Robin.

“Smile!” She said, pointing her camera towards you. You did as she said smiling and posing.

“Perfect!” She grabbed the photo and began shaking it so it would develop. Eddie smiled at you as you mimicked her shaking, the pair of you ended up dancing as she did.

Finally the picture was clear enough to see, “It looks great, you look pretty.”

“Aw thanks Robs,” you smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Anyone want a drink?” Steve asked, pulling out a few beers. “Throw one,” Eddie spoke, catching the can in one hand with ease. He sat down one the blanket, stretching out his long legs.

“Hey you, leave some room for the rest of us,” you spoke, plopping down next to him.

“You’ve got plenty of room, I’m a big guy, let me be comfy.”

“Okay big boy you take all the room you need.” You looked to your can, pulling the tab to open it, not realising how Eddies face flushed.

“Hey Eddie did you bring the good stuff?” Robin asked. “Obviously, I’m not gonna bring gross shit. I’m smoking too.”

“Oh so if you weren’t you’d give us weed that tastes like ass?” Steve asked.

“You know what ass tastes like Harrington?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the boy smirked.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Hey guys!” Nancys voice came from behind you. You scrambled up to hug her, “Hi!” she smiled to you.

“Hey Nance, Jonathan how are you?” you smiled at him.

The pair of you began quiet conversation, you’d always liked him. Just like Will, they were sweet kids, not surprising with a mom like Joyce. That woman had a heart of gold.

But later on you stood by the waters edge, watching it ripple as the breeze blew. You rubbed your arms, it was a bit cool, and getting colder as the sun disappeared.

“If you say ‘I told you so’ I’ll throw you in the fucking lake,” you said aloud.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Could smell the hairspray.”

“You’re horrible.”

“But you love me.”

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s middle, his going around your shoulders. “You good?”

“Mhm, stealing your warm.”

“Great so you’ve stole my jacket and warm,” he sighed, but didn’t let go.

“You guys ready to smoke?” Eddie asked, making you look up from Steve’s neck. He almost sounded annoyed? “Yeah!” You smiled at him, walking over to re-join the group.

Plonking yourself down between Robin and Eddie, you hummed in contentment. Eddie pulled out 2 pre-rolled blunts, handing one to Jonathan and keeping one himself.

The pair lit them and took the first inhales, smoke coming out of their noses. “Steves definitely gonna pull a whitey, he’s already drunk!” Robin laughed.

“Why am I friends with any of you?”

“Cause you love us,” you said in a sing-song voice.

The metal head offered you the blunt, not meeting your eyes as you thanked him. Taking a drag you, feeling the tickle of the smoke against your lungs.

The blunts were passed between the six of you and soon enough the first pop and boom was heard in the sky. Red and blue danced against the darkness, leaving you all in awe.

More and more fireworks began to appear, in the starry sky. They were so beautiful. You sighed, resting your head on someone’s shoulder, too stoned to really care who.

He cared though, knowing he’d need something a lot stronger to not care about you. To not feel like his heart would burst out of his chest as you laid there, smiling at the sky.

He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t keep falling for you. Keep loving you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair on him. Or Steve. God you had a boyfriend and you were here with him like this.

Nudging your head with his shoulder slightly, he stood up, brushing down his jeans. Excusing himself and walking away from the five of you.

Cocking you head your eyes followed after the dark haired boy. Wondering what was wrong. After a few minutes you decided to follow after him.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Eddie~” you called out for him. “You okay? Why’d you go away?” You giggled at your rhyme. Soon enough you found him, his back to you.

“Hi,” you spoke, walking closer to him. He was stood at the waters edge. “You okay? You wandered off.”

“Yeah I’m good.”

“Thought you were just taking a leak, but you were gone agesss. Got worried.”

“Why?” he asked genuinely, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. “Uh cause you’re my friend, and I like you duh.” He hummed at you, and you bumped his shoulder.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it Munson, I’m an open book right now, so this may be your only chance.”

“How long have you and Harrington been a thing?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw slack, you were stunned. “You don’t have to tell me, just curious. You suit each ot-” You put your hand on his mouth, “Edward Munson you finish that sentence and I will projectile vomit.”

He looked concerned, worried you were about to pull a whitey. “Shit we should get you home.”

“No! I’m fine it’s just,” you laughed, “Eddie, Steve’s my cousin.”

He was now the stunned one, “What?”

“He’s my cousin.”

“But your … your last names.”

“Our moms are sisters,” you explained.

“But I thought, he’s so protective of you, and you’re always wearing your clothes.”

“He nags me like a big brother. He’s only a few months older than me, but god he’s annoying.”

Eddie couldn’t believe it. You were cousins. Which made so much sense. So much fucking sense.

You were laughing, “Have I lost you?”

“W-what no! I’m right here.”

“Can I ask you a question now?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you ask me if I’m dating him?”

“Oh I um … you know. Curious friend.”

“Mhm, sure. Well,” you began to walk back towards the others, “Just in case your curiosity gets the better of you, I should probably just tell you,

“I like you too. I think we should go on a date.” Eddie looked at you in awe.

“How did you know?”

“Kinda obvious. I was waiting for you to ask me out, been dropping hints all the time. It really went over your head.”

You smiled at him. “You dropped hints?”

“All the time. Always asking to hang out, linking arms, laughing so loud at all your jokes, calling you, baking for you, coming to see your band. The list goes on. I like you Eddie.”

“I like you too.”

“I know,” you laughed.

“Take off the jacket.”

“What?”

“The jacket. Take it off.”

You did as he said, pulling off the blue material. Goosebumps instantly covering your skin. It was soon disturbed as Eddie put his leather jacket over your shoulders.

“Suits you,” he smiled, you matched it.

“It’s cosy.” It smelt like him, weed and his woody aftershave. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I hope you know you’re not having it back.”

“That’s fine by me. You look pretty in it.” You cheeks flushed at that, “Thanks Eds. So umm we should get back to the others.”

“Sure, but first, I need to do something.”

Before you had time to ask what he had cupped your cheeks in his ring decorated hands. Connecting your lips to his own. They were soft against yours, you couldn’t stop the grin forming on your face.

Kissing him back you deepened it, pulling him closer by his curls, making his groan slightly. Tongues dancing and bodies on one another, you didn’t hear the twig crack behind you.

“My eyes! Oh my god my fucking eyes!” You heard a shout, breaking away from Eddie. Steve was rubbing his face, doubled over. “Here I was thinking you were in danger but no you’re sucking face!”

“Oh my god Steve shut up,” dropping your face into Eddies chest in embarrassment, he hugged you and chuckled into your hair. “No! I’ve just seen my baby cousin, BABY cousin with a tongue down her throat. Gross!”

“Sorry Harrington, we’ll keep it PG around you.”

“You better Munson,” he said walking away from the pair of you. Breaking into laughter, Eddie brushed hair out of your face.

“Well he’s gone now so,” he leaned back down to kiss you. “Nope! Nope nope nope,” Steve ran back, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from Eddie, taking his jacket back too.

The curly haired boy cackled as he heard your whining as Steve dragged you, and his own complaints at how gross you were. Following behind, grin on his face, this may have been one of the best nights of his life.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months

Text

Yandere Short Stories:

Pinky Promise

Yandere Lesbian Knight x Afab! Childhood Friend Reader x Yandere Cross Dressing Noble (Genderfluid)

“Today we have a new orphan joining us.” The director pushed a young girl with (hair length and color) hair forward, the young girl shyly glanced at the other orphans. She was awfully small compared to the other kids and dainty like a doll. “This is (your first name). Play nicely.”

(Your name) shyly glanced around at the other kids, a young girl with bright red hair stuck out to her the most. The large girl played with a stick in the corner of the room by herself. (Your name) slowly approached the girl.

“H-hello.” (Your name) bowed her head when the red head snapped her head to look at her. The young girl looked much like a wounded animal than a nine year old, which only made (your name) even more nervous. “I-I’m (your first name), what’s your name?”

The crimson haired girl simply sat still, not muttering a single word while her cinnamon colored eyes glanced (your name) up and down. A scoff then left her lips.

“Leave me alone.” (Your name) nearly cried when the red head glared at her. “I don’t need friends.”

Another girl toddled over to (your name) and took her hand. “That’s Marisa. She’s mean. But you can come play with us! I’m Jezebel!”

(Your name) glanced back at Marisa who sat hunched over at her spot in the corner. She looked so lonely…

“You shouldn’t hang out with Marisa, (your name).” Jezebel whispered to the (hair color) girl. “She’s bad luck.”

For the last few weeks, (your name) tried to get closer to the red haired girl. But to no avail. She was met with hostility and cruel insults. Marisa was just like a wounded animal… one that had been cornered and beaten for so long that it didn’t know how to handle affection.

“Bad luck?” (Your name) asked softly, she turned to glance at the messy crimson haired girl. Her body hunched over in the corner as she hugged herself close.

“She has blood red hair. She has impure blood.”

“Impure blood?” (Your name) tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow in confusion. What on earth did that mean?

“Yes… it means she has monster blood.” Jezebel hissed, her body trembled when Marisa turned to glance their way. “She’ll grow up and become a monster.”

(Your name) frowned and glanced over at Marisa. Her heart clenched at how miserable she looked. How long had she been alone?

“I don’t think she’s a monster.” (Your name) softly whispered before she stood up. The young girl placed a finger on her chin. “Thanks for your concern, Jezebel but I think I’ll take my chances. If she tears me apart then you’re right. But if not, you’ll have to apologize.”

(Your name) even more determined to befriend the crimson haired girl… but how?

Marisa furrowed her brow when (your name) offered to share her food with her. This was new. She was suspicious of the new orphan. (Your name) was stupidly trusting of people and naive. Marisa hated it. Marisa hated how the other girl kept trying to get close to her… did (your name) know she was a monster?

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.” Marisa huffed, the red head crossed her arms over her chest. Her messy red waves covered her cinnamon eyes a bit from the movement. “You probably have your germs all over that bread anyways.”

(Your name) frowned but placed the half loaf beside Marisa’s plate. Her expression hopeful.

“You just always sit alone…” (your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, her body shook a bit under Marisa’s intense gaze. “I want to sit with you.”

Marisa rolled her eyes, the red head snatched the stale bread and took a bite. Her eyes cautiously glance over the smaller girl. (Your name) couldn’t hurt her even if she tried. She was so small, her wrist would probably snap if she tried to hit Marisa.

(Your name) was like a lost, little lamb that approached a wolf. Didn’t she know how dangerous the world was? How people could harm her or have ulterior motives? How could someone be so naive?

“Whatever.” Marisa stiffened when (your name) scooted next to her, her arms wrapped around Marisa in a hug. “Hey?! What are you doing, weirdo?!”

“Well, I’m hugging my friend.” (Your name) giggled with a bright smile. Marisa felt her heart stop for a minute, an unfamiliar feeling washing over her. Was this magic?

“You’re weird.” Marisa huffed, a small blush on her face. Maybe she’d let (your name) stick around… maybe.

The two girls were inseparable. Wherever Marisa was, (your name) was. At first it irritated the crimson haired girl. Why on earth did (your name) have to be so persistent about being by her side? Yet there was a part of her that adored it.

Marisa loved that (your name) would cry when she wasn’t there. That (your name) depended on her company. It made Marisa feel wanted for once…

And it’s why Marisa interfered whenever someone was interested in adopting (your name). She didn’t want to lose her only friend… her family.

Marisa would throw bugs from the trees on potential adopters and play nasty pranks on them. She’d do anything to keep (your name) by her side.

“Mari?” (Your name) mumbled from their shared bed, her little body snuggled against the red haired girl’s body. “Are you having nightmares?”

Marisa felt herself melt under (your name)’s concerned expression. The red haired girl curled into (your name)’s body, her arms wrapped around the smaller girls in a comforting manner. Yes… this felt right, this was right.

“I was just thinking was all.” Marisa whispered, her hands moved to throw the blanket over (your name) and her head to hide their secret pact. “Can you promise me something?”

(Your name) eagerly nodded her head. Her eyes focused on Marisa’s. “Yes, of course.”

“Stay with me forever.” Marisa whispered from under the white sheet. Her cinnamon eyes full of seriousness. “Pink promise me.”

(Your name) nodded her head and took Marisa’s pinky in hers. “Pinky promise.”

The two girls laid under the sheets in a mess of limbs. It wasn’t just a promise to Marisa… it was a swear.

One day, an elderly gentleman came to the orphanage. One that took great interest in (your name). To the point even Marisa’s tactics to get him to change his mind wouldn’t work. She had overheard the man talk about (your name)‘s pure mana. How lucky was her friend to be gifted in magic while she had no skills…

The elderly man frowned at how distraught the red haired girl was when she realized her friend was going to be adopted. The elder held out a hand to the sniffling girl.

“Why don’t you come with us?” He asked in a soft voice. “You just want to be with your friend, don’t you?”

Marisa stared at the old man with wide eyes. His salt colored facial hair nearly concealed his whole face but he had kind eyes… eyes that were similar to (your name)‘s.

“Y-you’d adopt me too?”

“Well of course. I’d hate to separate someone who has worked so hard to be beside their friend.” The old man smiled at Marisa. “My name is Orick. I’m a herbalist.”

“My name is Marisa Guerra… and I’m (your name)‘s best friend.”

Orik took the red head girl’s hand and lead her over to (your name) who smiled brightly at Marisa. It seemed the two of them would continue to be together.

The two girls ran towards each other and hugged. Orik smiled at the two. This time he’d ensure (your name)‘s safety… he wouldn’t fail her family twice.

And Marisa would be the perfect fit for her protector.

(Your name) and Marisa giggled as they sat side by side in a lavender field. The violet flowers tangled between their small hands while they wove flower crowns for one another.

“Mari, you suck at this.” The smaller girl giggled at her friend’s expense. The red haired girl flushed a bright pink in the face from how distorted her crown was.

“I’m doing my best! Not my fault my hands aren’t as dainty as yours.” Marissa grumbled, the red head snuck glances here and there towards the smaller girl. “You’re just more graceful than me, (your name).”

Marisa memorized the details on (your name)’s face, she always found herself staring at her best friend. Was it strange that her heart beat so wildly in her chest whenever they were together? Marisa didn’t quite understand the feelings that bloomed in her for the sweet (hair color) girl

“Well I made you one, see?” (Your name) gently placed the lavender flower crown on Marisa’s head. (Your name) gave her best friend a bright smile. “You look so pretty in purple.”

Marisa blushed, the young red head brushed a crimson wave out of her face. She swore her heart would explode from the simple compliment.

“Not nearly as pretty as you. I don’t think there’s anyone as pretty as you.”

Even as a child, Marisa meant exactly what she said. (Your name) was the prettiest girl Marisa had ever seen and the only one she had eyes for.

“You’re so silly, Mari. You act like I’m some kind of princess!” (Your name) squealed when Marisa grabbed her hands and began to press kisses on them. “Mari!”

“To me, you are the most beautiful princess.” Marisa smiled as she began to press more kisses to (your name)’s hands. “And I’m your loyal knight.”

“But we’re Orik’s apprentices.”

The two girls giggled together, their hands linked while they admired the sunset together.

“Of course you little peasants always stick together.” A young noble girl stuck her nose up at (your name) and Marisa while the duo played together in the streets from the window in her fancy blue carriage. The golden family crest of the Phoenix showed off which family she belonged to, Marquis Golding.

The marchioness’s long golden curls were pulled back behind her head in a half braid while the rest spilled out over her shoulders. “Why don’t you two play elsewhere?”

“Oh hello, Marchioness Golding.” (Your name) greeted the blonde with a smile, which threw the blonde off. The blonde glanced away, a pinkish tint to her ears. “We were close to the street, weren’t we? Thanks for looking out-“

“(Your name), she’s making fun of us.” Marisa softly pointed out, the redhead glared at the haughty blonde. She didn’t understand why the blonde insisted on bothering with them. “We’ll go elsewhere, Marchioness Golding.”

Marissa rose up to her feet and took (your name)‘s hands in hers. The marchioness turned red in the face from the sight. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair that they were able to live freely while she was trapped to live the life of a noble.

Cressida could only watch as the two left. Her heart clenched when (your name) waved goodbye to her before Marissa tugged her away.

Was it wrong for Cressida to want (your name)? The girl was oddly sophisticated for a mere peasant… it made Cressida curious.

Was (your name) hiding something just like her?

Not to mention how (your name)’s features were eerily similar to a portrait she’s seen once… but where had Cressida last seen it?

Orik smiled at (your name) who fretted ow r an injured bird. Tears in her eyes, her heart ached for the bird that was missing a part of its wing.

“Now, (your name). With your affinity for healing magic, you can heal things.” Orik softly told the young girl. His wrinkled hands guided hers over the bird. “But you cannot heal what is no longer there.”

“What do you mean, master?”

“Wounds can be closed but they may leave scars.” Orik softly told her, the old wizard assisted her in healing the injured bird. “It’s flight feathers will have to grow back once it molts but you were able to reattach the bones. You have limits, my dear.”

(Your name) smiled at Orik’s teachings. The elder always took time to teach her about healing magic and herbalism.

“I sense you’ll become a great healer one day.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Mari, you can’t keep stealing.” (Your name) chided her friend, the young adult scoffed in response.

The years have turned the two of them into adults and Marisa has been on a rebellious streak as of late. The red haired woman now towered over her friend and (your name) was sure Marisa was almost seven feet tall.

“We have to survive too. Orik doesn’t have much money despite once being the grand wizard.” Marisa grumbled as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest. “The royals don’t care about orphans like us. We could starve for all they care.”

“But what if they catch you? You could get hurt…”

“I can’t keep up with your skills in magic. You’re going to be a great healer one day and I’m just me… Orik’s ways don’t suit me.” Marisa sighed, the large teen bent down to sit beside (your name) on the grassy hill. “I’m not smart like you…”

“But I’m sure you could become a knight. Or maybe even a monster hunter. You’re super strong!” (Your name) smiled at her friend, which made Marisa sigh. The redhead shoved the loaf of bread into (your name)’s hand.

“Eat your bread. At least make my efforts worth it. I doubt we’ll eat anything this good until we’re done learning from Orik.” Marisa huffed. She draped her arm over (your name)‘s shoulder to pull her closer.

The two women admired the city lights from below. (Your name)’s eyes sparkle in wonder from how magic had made the lights below shine so brightly.

“It’s such a beautiful sight, isn’t it?”

Cinnamon colored eyes were directed at (your name), a softness in them that was only reserved for the young woman in front of her. “Yes it is…”

Marisa rested her head on (your name)‘s, her feelings once more bubbled to the surface like boiling soup. Marisa knew exactly what she felt for the other girl… it was just wondering if (your name) returned even a fraction of what she felt. If they had a chance to be something more than friends…

Yet it wasn’t something Marisa wanted to chance. She’d rather die than lose her best friend, no… her reason to live.

In this sick world, her only solace was (your name) and Marisa would rather chop her own foot off with a dull butter knife than let anything happen to the small girl.

“(Your name)?”

“Yes?”

“I’d kill for you.” (Your name) giggled at her friend’s words, the smaller girl not taking what the other woman said seriously. Kill for her? How absurd.

“Well, I hope you never have to. I’d hate for you to end up in prison or even on death row.”

Marisa pressed herself further into (your name), a sad smile on her face. She’d do anything for (your name). Anything.

“(Your name)?” (Your name) froze when a certain marchioness made her way towards her. Her pale pink skirts held in her hands as she barged into (your name)‘s study.

Ever since they became teenagers, Cressida Golding bothered her more and more. But rather than her weak attempts at bullying in childhood, Cressida made an attempt to befriend (your name). The golden haired girls cheeks flushed whenever she was around the (hair color) girl and her palms would be sweaty.

Yet Cressida made no move to befriend Marisa, only (your name).

“Would you like to go to a salon with me? I could buy you a dress…” Cressida fiddled with her fingers, her cerulean eyes anxiously glanced at (your name). “Or you could probably fit into some of my old ones… I’ve been growing a lot as of late.”

“That’s okay, marchioness Golding. Thank you-“

“It’s just Cressida!” Cressida rasped out, her body trembled in anxiousness. “And I insist. Please?”

“But I’m just a peasant…” (your name) softly whispered, but Cressida waved her off.

“No, you’re not! You’re nothing like that red head or the others!” Cressida put her hands over her mouth at her outburst. She hadn’t meant to be so loud and excitable. “I actually found out something rather interesting about you.”

“What do you mean, Cressida?” Cressida took (your name)’s hands in her clammy ones. A big smile on her face.

“I’ll tell you my findings if you come to the salon I’m hosting!”

(Your name) thought about it for a moment before she sighed. She knew Cressida wouldn’t accept no as an answer. The golden haired girl was quite spoiled after all…

“Okay… I’ll come.” Cressida squealed and pulled (your name) in for a hug. Her cerulean eyes lit up like stars.

“I swear you won’t be disappointed, darling!” The blonde then took off with a skip in her step.

(Your name) sighed and glanced at her books that laid strewn out all over her desk. Now where did she leave off?

A scream escaped Marisa’s mouth when a guard slammed their foot into her ribcage in a dark alleyway. Her plunders strewn all over the alleyway’s floor. Marisa had simply wanted to gift (your name) something nice, it wasn’t even something super expensive. It was just a rose quartz tied together with twine.

A twisted smirk crawled on the guard’s face at her anguished expression.

“Well look who I finally caught! The street rat that my mistress hates.” His hand tangled in Marisa’s short red hair and yanked her head up. “You’re not so tough now, are ya?”

Marisa vehemently glared at the guard before she launched a wad of spit on his dirty face. The guard threw her to the ground in anger his shirt ripped from the grip she had on him, his hand wiped the spit off his face. The fabric crest of the family he served was clutched tightly in her fist.

“You’ll pay for that.” Marisa’s eyes widened when the guard drew his sword, the metal menacingly glinted under the streetlights.

A scream rung throughout the alleyway and then silence.

(Your name) frantically ran down the streets. Her head turned every which way in hopes of finding Marisa. Marisa wasn’t home on time and she was never late…

(Your name) clutched her cloak tightly to her body in an attempt to comfort herself. She needed to find her friend…

“Marissa?” (Your name) called out to no avail. And that’s when she saw it… a crumbled body of a certain red head and a pool of blood.

A scream that would make anyone weep at the strangled sound escaped (your name)’s chest as she launched herself beside her friend. Her small hands rolled over Marisa’s body to see where the wound was… only for horror to crawl down (your name)’s spine.

The entire left side of Marisa’s face was completely mutilated with cute. The blood seemed never ending while the skin of her left cheek no longer concealed her teeth. And her tongue was cut up as well.

“W-who did this to you?” (Your name) wept as she did her best to use her magic to heal her friend. “Who hurt you?”

Her tears felt never ending as she did her best to heal what she could. This half of her friend’s face would more likely be permanently disfigured from this ordeal no matter how good of a healer (your name) was. There just wasn’t enough left of her face to completely heal it.

“Mari… oh Mari.” (Your name) sobbed as she held Mari’s body close to her. Marisa was so cold and barely breathing… but she was alive. Thank god… “I’m so sorry, Mari.”

(Your name) held Marisa close to her, a certain family crest caught (your name)’s eye. The golden Phoenix mocked her.

“Marquis Golding…”

Cressida held her sore cheek in shock when (your name) struck her. The smaller woman’s face red with rage, a crumbled family crest was balled up in her fist.

“You witch!” (Your name) hissed, the crest suddenly thrown at Cressida who sat dumbstruck on the floor. “How dare you have one of your guards attack Marisa… how dare you!”

“(Y-your name)? What do you mean?” Cressida cried, her eyes filled with tears. Not out of guilt, but out of fear. Fear of (your name) leaving her behind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Don’t pretend you don’t! Your guard hurt Marisa and now… she’ll never be able to live a normal life!” (Your name) felt a sob rack through her body, her hands tightly clutched her chest. “How could you-“

Creature rose up from the floor and ran towards (your name) until she fell to her knees in front of the young woman. Her hands tightly clutched (your name)’s.

“I didn’t order him to… I wouldn’t do that.” Cressida began to sob. “I know you care about her… I wouldn’t do that.”

(Your name) froze when Cressida began to bawl. Fat tears rolled down her pale cheeks as she tightly clutched the skirt of (your name)’s linen dress like a lifeline.

“Please don’t abandon me! I swear I didn’t order it! I swear! I swear!” Cressida buried her face in (your name)’s skirt, her tears and snot wet the fabric. “I wouldn’t hurt you!”

“It’s okay, Cressida. I’m sorry for letting my anger get the best of me.” (Your name) held Cressida’s face in her palms. Guilt washed over her at the welt on Cressida’s face. “I shouldn’t have hurt you-“

“Don’t apologize! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t know! I’m sorry!” Cressida nuzzled her face in (your name)’s soft palms with a sigh. “You’re allowed to be upset! But I’ll take care of it all! Just for you!”

(Your name) furrowed her brow at the almost euphoric look in Cressida’s teary cerulean eyes. There was something incredibly off about the golden haired woman… but who was she to judge?

“Okay, Cressida… I believe you.” (Your name) was nearly launched back when Cressida lunged forward to hug her,

“Thank you! Thank you! I promise I’ll fix everything. Just leave it all to me.” Cressida buried her face in the crook of (your name)’s neck.

If only (your name) could see the demented smile on Cressida’s face then she’d know of the danger she was in…

The portly guard was thrown into a dungeon. His eyes wide in horror when he saw the young marchioness in the middle of the cell. The other guards quickly locked the door and left the guard alone with the young woman.

“M-my lady?! Have I offended you in some way?” The guard felt his blood run cold when a deep chuckle escaped Cressida’s lips.

“You know it’s my lord in private.” The guard bowed his head when he heard bones begin to snap. The guard shivered in pure fear when he felt an icy glare on him. Oh god… he hadn’t mean to upset him.

“I’m sorry my lord-“ The guard’s head was suddenly pulled up by the thin strands of his hair. A hauntingly beautiful man now stood before him in place of the marchioness. His cerulean blue eyes cold and unforgiving like the sea.

“Do you know what you’ve almost cost me?” The young man angrily hissed.

“N-no, my lord-“ the guard’s face was suddenly slammed into the stone floor. A loud, audible crunch rung throughout the empty dungeon.

“The throne! I need (your name) for the throne!” The guard’s head was slammed over and over into the ground as the young man had a tantrum. “My beautiful, perfect darling is the lost Duchess of (last name)! If I marry her, an illegitimate child like me could become the crown prince! And you almost screwed it all up because you sliced up her friend’s face!”

The guard’s face was practically hamburger meet from how mashed it was. A few of the his teeth now missing as he choked on his blood. The golden haired man sighed before dropping the guard to the ground.

“I just got so lucky my darling is so wonderful and understanding… she even apologized to me after she struck me.” The delusional man suddenly held his body to imitate a hug. “I am so lucky to have stumbled upon her… don’t you think we’ll be beautiful together?”

The guard could only gurgle and gasp, the portly man struggled to breathe. The blonde sighed in frustration. “An imbecile like you could never understand our love… but she said she’d let me handle it! So we’re not quite done yet, mister guard.”

The guard was then dragged to be chained to the floor. The young man smiled down at the disoriented guard, his haunting beauty similar to an angel of death.

The man then snapped his fingers to alert his butler to come over with a cage full of rats. The top of the cage held a metal bowl at the top and a removable tray at the bottom,

“Prince Chrysanthos. I really do think you’ve outdone yourself.” The butler sighed before he placed the metal cage atop of the guard’s stomach and pulled out the tray so that the rats were now had no metal bottom. Yet they couldn’t escape.

“You flatter me, Gerald. I simply wish to be a strict ruler who would do anything for his beloved. My enemies must know not to mess with me or her.” Chrysanthos smiled at Gerald who nodded. The salt and pepper haired man walked over to a small bowl filled with hot coals.

“You’re doing a fantastic job, sir.” The butler handed Chrysanthos the bucket. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Of course.” Chrysanthos then dumped the hot coals into the bowl atop of the cage. “This is what you get for upsetting my love. Your death will be slow and agonizing as the rats claw through your body to escape the heat.”

The guard began to loudly scream when he felt the rats scratch and bite at his skin.

Gerald glanced over at the insane blonde before him. Not a doubt in his mind that Crysanthos was a demon despite his angelic appearance.

“Do you wish to watch, sir? Or do you want to buy a dress for you darling?”

The butler remaind stoic when Chrysantho’s mood did a complete 180 degree turn. A bright smile on his angelic features.

“I would love to. Do you think she’d look beautiful in gold? Or should I perhaps dress her in lighter colors until the engagement?” Chrysanthos sighed dreamily. “My beautiful darling would look good in anything… I can’t wait to see her at my salon.”

The butler nodded as the two men left the guard behind to suffer his ill fate.

Chrysanthos babbled the whole way out. Gerald just didn’t understand what it was about that girl that drove the prince so mad.

(Your name) laid beside Marisa. Her arms wrapped around her friend as Orik frowned at her.

“She should wake up soon, my dear. You’ve been up for three days now… you can’t let yourself fall apart too.” Orik expressed his worry for his adopted daughter.

“I just want to be here when she wakes up.” (Your name) whispered softly, her hands stroked Marisa’s scarred face. “I want her to know I’m here… that I’ll always be here.”

Orik sighed but he understood her pain. “I won’t stop you but why don’t you just lay beside her?”

Orik snapped his fingers, a blanket now magically placed around her shoulders. The old man wrapped the blanket snuggly around (your name)’s body.

The young woman rested her body beside Marisa’s. The two women curled into one another.

As the young woman finally fell into the clutches of sleep, she failed to notice Marisa was now awake. Her cinnamon eyes softened at the eye bags and tear stained face of her friend.

Marisa struggled to speak, her throat felt so dry… Marisa went to sit up, her cinnamon colored eyes wide in horror at her reflection. Her whole body trembled at the hideous scars on her face. Oh god… it wasn’t a nightmare.

Marisa’s fingers traced over the ugly lines of scars on the left side of her face. Tears fell from her eyes as reality washed over her. She was ugly now…

“She did her best to heal what was left of your face.” Orik softly told Marisa from the door way. “I think she did an amazing job from what she said was left of you.”

Marisa glanced down at (your name) who laid curled up beside her. Her small hands tightly clutched Marisa’s shirt.

“Marisa. I have been quite lenient toward your rebellious behavior but I think it’s time you start to do something with you life.” Orik told the young woman, the elderly man made his way over. “I have a friend in the north who could train you in the way of the sword.”

“But I… I can’t leave (your name) behind. Especially with that stupid marchioness running about.”

“Who said I wouldn’t send the both of you?” Orik softly asked. “I may be old, but I’m willing to relocate to get away from that noble… they terrify me.”

Marisa paused, the muscular teen cast a glance at the sleeping (your name). A sunkissed finger hesitantly brushed a stray strand of hair out of (your name)’s face.

“If she wants to… we’ll move.”

“Excellent. Let me know what she says when she wakes up.” Orik smiled at the two young women. “We can leave in a week’s time at the earliest.”

Marisa glanced down at (your name) who clutched onto her body like a koala bear. A soft smile graced her lips as she leaned down to press a kiss on (your name)’s forehead.

“Thank you… I owe you my life once again.” Marisa pressed her forehead against (your name)’s while her arms snaked around (your name)’s body. “You’re always saving me when I’m supposed to be protecting you… I swear I’ll become stronger and I’ll be able to provide us a better life.”

Marisa laid beside (your name) until she succumbed to sleep as well. Their limbs tangled and their hearts full from one another’s company.

Orik did his best to keep a stoic expression when marchioness Golding visited their home bright and early. A large, neatly wrapped gift sat in her butler’s arms as the two nodded at Orik.

“Is (your name) home?” Cressida asked, a giddiness in her voice. “I brought her dress for the salon today.”

Orik frowned but relented on letting Cressida inside. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the golden terror, she was well known for her volatile temper.

“(Your name)?!” Cressida sing songed the small teen’s name in hopes she’d come running over to her. “I’m here to take you to the salon! I have your dress-“

Cressida froze when she saw (your name) fast asleep in her bed. The small girl curled up under her various blankets, her chest softly rose with each breath. She looked like a fairy…

Cressida slowly approached the bed until she sat on the end of it. She outstretched her pale hand to touch (your name)‘s cheek but a large hand stopped her.

Cressida nearly screamed at the sight of Marisa’s disfigured face. The scars made her even more fearsome to gaze at.

“What on earth are you doing?!” Marissa hissed like a snake, her cinnamon eyes narrowed at the golden haired noblewoman. An overwhelming desire to protect the unconscious (your name) consumed the redhead.

“I was just going to wake her was all.” Cressida snatched her wrist back from Marisa’s brutish grip. “You don’t have to be such a brute all the time.”

Marisa scoffed and crossed her muscular arms over her chest. She stuck her nose up at Cressida, Cressida’s face twisted in disgust at the prominent dorsal hump on Marisa’s large nose. Why did Marisa look more masculine when Cressida was Chrysanthos?

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a creep.”

(Your name) stirred awake, the young woman glanced between her two friends who seemed to be about to argue.

“Good morning-“ (your name) almost screamed when Cressida launched at her to try to hug her but Marisa pushed the blonde over so the blonde onto the end of the bed instead. The blonde landed with a loud thud.

“What was that for?! You could have ruined my dress-“ Cressida quickly calmed herself. She didn’t want to scare her darling away… “I’m here to take you away to the salon, (your name)!”

“Oh… that is today isn’t it?” (Your name) whispered. She had forgotten all about it since she’s been so preoccupied worrying about Marisa. Did that make her an awful friend? “I’m sorry for not being ready, Cressida.”

“No, it’s alright! I bought you a dress.” Cressida leapt up from the bed and scurried over the Gerald. The blonde practically snatched the box from his hands and handed it to (your name). “Here! Open it!”

(Your name) hesitantly opened the box to reveal a beautiful blush colored dress. Her hands grasp the straps to admire it in awe.

“Oh wow… it’s beautiful, Cressida.” (Your name) smiled at her friend who blushed a bright pink.

“Let’s put it on and if we leave now, my maids can do your hair and makeup.” Cressida beamed, much to Marisa’s dismay. (Your name) couldn’t possibly have agreed to hang out with this haunted porcelain doll wannabe.

(Your name) smiled and rose up from the bed with the dress in her arms. The young woman turned to her two friends.

“I’ll need help with this…”

The two women glanced at each other before they rushed over to help (your name). The young woman chuckled at how eager her friends were to help.

(Your name) twirled around in the blush colored dress while Cressida and Marisa admired her. How could someone be so beautiful?

“You look beautiful…” Cressida muttered softly, her cerulean eyes filled with admiration. She wanted to burn this image into her brain forever…

Marisa on the other hand was speechless. Marisa’s throat became dry like sand, her hands now sweaty, and her pupils dilated at the sight in front of her eyes. It took everything in Marisa not to pull (your name) in for a kiss- wait… a kiss? Where did that thought come from?

Marisa shook her head, her cheeks warm when she noticed (your name)’s eyes on her. Oh no… she hadn’t meant to stare for so long.

“Y-you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” (Your name) thanked her friends for their compliment, Cressida’s sharp eyes soon realized (your name) didn’t have proper footwear… she’d have to buy her some.

“Let’s be on our way. I’ll pick you some shoes out and you’ll be all set.”

Marisa frowned when Cressida stole (your name) away. She hated Cressida and not just because Cressida held an obvious torch for (your name). No. There was something off about the golden haired girl.

And Marisa’s gut has never been proven wrong… but she couldn’t put her finger on what it could be…

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randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Morning Grumpy Witch - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: The one where moody Emo!Wanda has a bad morning, but luckily, she also has a soft spot saved for her girlfriend. [Requested]

Warnings: None really, all fluff with Avengers being a family and Wanda being a simp. | Words: 1.197k

A/N-> I deviated a little from the original request and ended up writing a shared POV with Reader and Bucky Barnes my precious baby. This is pretty small and sweet as requested.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was common knowledge in Avengers Tower that Wanda could be a temperamental person. And so it was best to keep a distance until she regained her temper, especially after things went wrong, like failing Natasha Romanoff's same combat challenge four times in a row. Not that anyone was keeping score.

But Bucky was a recent member of the team, and well, he's trying to be a more considerate person and had no idea that while he was preparing breakfast, Wanda was falling down her ass, again and again, and having to deal with the provocative giggles of two veteran captains and a spy who seemed to take some kind of personal pride in managing to defeat a witch.

And just for this, when the team left the gymnasiums for the kitchen, he greeted them amiably and joined in the loose talk and jokes even if he didn't know exactly what the others were laughing at.

Clint - who had spent the morning reinforcing and repairing his bows - appeared in the kitchen and like the father he was, his first instinct was to ruffle the hair of an already irritated Maximoff, grinning at her grumbling protest as he leaned over to get a cup of coffee.

Bucky didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted to make conversation. The problem was the subject.

"So, Maximoff, everything went well in training? Someone needs to kick Natasha's ass one of these days. I imagine it's easier with your magical advantage." He commented, but Wanda remained silent to the countless giggles that arose from the Avengers present in the gym at the time of the training.

Natasha made an expression of false interest, which hid the teasing. "Yeah, Wanda, tell him how your magic tricks helped you fall flat on your face on the tatami four times?"

The table exploded into giggles, Wanda grunted in irritation and embarrassment, before standing at once with a small breakfast plate in hand. Bucky swallowed dryly when she offered him only an angry glance of red irises before turning away to the kitchen counter.

He leaned a little in Nat's direction. "Was it that bad?" He whispered, and the widow laughed before clarifying:

"She has potential, but she relies too much on magic tricks. She can't get past the first wave of challenges, because she can't charm a training hologram." Nat explains.

The table falls into a brief conversation, and Bucky steals a glance at where Wanda is sitting - and shattering a loaf of bread with more force than necessary.

From the small living room, two figures then emerge to join the meal: the Starks of the Tower. Unlike Tony and his fancy robe, you are dressed casually, and he vaguely remembers you mentioning that you had a meeting at SWORD later.

It is Tony who greets the team first- You follow him, smiling briefly before your gaze circles the room.

"Where's my little witch...?" You ask distractedly, almost sighing when you see the crestfallen figure in the kitchen.

"Careful." He warns naturally. "She's kind of moody today."

You chuckle through your nose, turning away without missing an opportunity to steal a sweet bagel from Tony's hand, and ignoring his protest to catch up with your girlfriend at the counter.

Well, Bucky assumes you are a couple at least. He has never asked about it, but it is in the way you look and behave around each other.

And it's definitely in how you come up behind Wanda, hugging her and completely breaking her pouting expression with kisses all over her neck and face.

The team only pays attention to the display of affection when Wanda breaks into a giggle a minute later, the sound muffled between kisses that you steal from her.

Clint has a fond smile as he comments to the rest of the staff:

"It's nice that they get along so well."

The Avengers hum in agreement. Natasha is swiping cream cheese on a cracker when she comments to Steve:

"Let's invite Y/N to watch the afternoon practice." She says turning her face to the two figures on the counter. Wanda's stool has been spun by your hands, and despite being all over her, you both have your attention on the table at the mention of your name. Natasha gives a little smile. "It's just that Wanda fights better when she wants to impress her girlfriend. Isn't that right, Maximoff?"

All Nat gets is a raised middle finger that makes the team laugh. You chuckle at the interaction too but lean your face to hide against Wanda's neck, your arms closing around her body and hugging her properly. Wanda ignores the team to hold you back.

"I like this." She whispers, arms tightening and making you hum in agreement against her skin. Still, the position is not ideal because of the height difference between your standing figure and her sitting. Wanda sighs in your ear. "Can we go back to our room? Take a shower together..."

You groan at the amazing idea, kissing her neck before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I can't, babe. Business meeting" You remind her, mimicking the pout she displays with your response. "Sorry. How about later?"

"Natasha didn't lie, I really do have practice. I like the idea of you watching, though." She replies, and you flash a small lopsided grin.

"Hmm, I also like the idea of watching you sweat..." You tease, managing to make her cheeks acquire a pink color. You kiss her softly before commenting, "It's a date then."

You are kissing her again when Clint hisses in warning, his gaze on the clock on the wall.

"You'll be late if you don't leave now, Stark." He tells you, and begrudgingly, you pull away from Wanda, stealing a few kisses before doing so completely.

"I'm going to borrow your car, Tony. The Silver Bugatti." You declare as you walk past the keychain. Your brother grimaces.

"No way! You have your own cars!" He protests but only receives vague excuses before you rush out of the kitchen - Throwing a kiss in the air to your girlfriend before leaving completely.

Tony spends the rest of the coffee complaining that no one respects their older brothers anymore. Bucky is impressed that five minutes ago, Wanda nearly bewitched him over a question, and now she was having trouble hiding the silly grin on her face.

He got up to drop some dirty mugs in the sink, and ventured, "You two are sweet together. And you seem to really like her, with your puppy dog eyes."

Wanda's expression changed on the spot, the red returning to her irises but also to her cheeks.

"Are you mocking me?" She retorted but looked so adorable at having been caught that he just chuckled, his attention on his mugs.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He merely replied, chuckling to himself as Wanda stormed out of the kitchen the next moment. Stealing a quick glance at Steve across the table, he wonders if it would be a good idea to set up a double date, maybe even invite Maria and Natasha if the widow promises not to torment the witch.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel imagines

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