#there was so much going on in that marvel voices chapter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undercoverpena · 3 months

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1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories

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barefoot-joker · 2 months

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Snake in the Garden Pt 4~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome to Snake in the Garden Part 4! In this chapter we meet a few new characters, so I hope I got their personalities right. I do hope you all like the new chapter as I had a lot of fun writing it. As always, enjoy and I hope you have a great day/night!

Words: 2395

Warnings: Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I heaved as I ran through the streets of Hell. I couldn’t get enough air to my lungs and my legs were growing weary of the journey. However, I kept my eyes on the marquee and just kept going. You’re almost there, Y/n! Come on! Soon you’ll be free!

I didn’t take the time to look at the demons surrounding me but my ears caught all of the screams, moans and conversations as I passed. A couple of times I was grabbed at, but I just shoved them away and continued my trek. When I reached the gate of the hotel I stopped to catch a breather, my hand grasping the iron bars to steady myself. I looked back from where I came, the palace a tiny speck in the distance. I wanted to pat myself on the back but I knew I wasn’t in the clear. Until I was back home Lucifer could rear his head at any moment. Speaking of the Devil, I wondered how long it would be till he noticed I was gone.

Taking in a few more breaths, I walked up the cobblestoned hill to the front door. The marquee shone a bright red and I felt like I was bathed in blood. Stopping at the front door, I marveled at how intricate it was. The stained glass formed a circus tent pattern and the rim held a golden tint to it. Bringing my hand up, I knocked on the glass, a knot forming in my stomach. What if all this work was for nothing? Would the Princess even listen to my case?

I didn’t have much time to think when the door opened. In front of me stood a tall, lean man dressed all in red. Among his red and black hair, black deer antlers stood and what I assumed to be his ears straightened in surprise. His red eyes felt different compared to Lucifer’s, his feeling more sinister. His grin seemed to grow wider as he looked me up and down. “Hello, my dear. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. I’m Alastor, the hotel’s facility manager. How can I be of-”

I rushed past him and slammed the door shut, my nails digging into the golden wood. “-service to you?”

I spun around to face him, my eyes blown wide in panic. “I need to speak to Charlie! Please, it’s an emergency!”

I clasped my hands tight in prayer and tried to make myself look as vulnerable as possible. “Charlie isn’t here at the moment, I’m afraid. She’s out on some business with Vaggie. The two of them should be back soon though.”

I groaned and hung my head in despair. How long will she be gone?

I lifted my head back up and let out a slight shriek at how close the deer man was. He was practically on top of me, our noses almost touching. “Though I could speed along the process if I was told what constitutes an emergency.”

I hadn’t noticed it before but as the man spoke his voice held a static to it, almost like an old radio. “Listen, Alastor was it? I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.”

“Hmm. I guess you’ll just have to wait then. Husker, make this sinner feel at home.”

I looked to the left and saw a bar that looked way too out of place. Blue boards made up the walls and floor while the dark oak bar top sat in the middle. The cat demon, Husker, looked up from drying a glass and sighed. Alastor wrapped his arm around my shoulder and dragged me over to the bar, shoving me at a stool. I sat on top of it and gulped as the radio man kept eyeing me from his post nearby. “What’ll you be havin’?”

“Oh, um, a water is fine.”

“Not much of a drinker, eh?”

“No. Besides, I don’t really drink around strangers.”

Husker shrugged and turned his back to me. When he returned to my side, he placed a rocks glass in front of me on the bar top. I grabbed it and sipped my water. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear you’re in an emergency. Got some loan sharks after you or somethin’?”

“Oh no, much worse. It’s a long story.”

“I’ve heard my fair share of long stories as a bartender.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable sharing. I’d much rather wait for Charlie.”

“I can respect that. Hell is a rough place and if you’re not careful it can swallow you whole. I learned that the hard way.”

He sighed and continued to dry glasses. As I sipped my drink, I glanced over to see Alastor still staring at me. That maniacal grin never leaving his face and his eyes cool and calculating. “So um, what’s Alastor’s deal? Why does he keep staring at me like I’m fresh meat at the butchers?”

“He’s always like that, scoping out the new guests. But a word of advice, don’t make a deal with him whatever you do. You think your life is horrible now, you got another thing comin’ with him.”

“I see.”

Suddenly I felt something grazing my ankles. I peered down to see a very short woman with a red bob, a stripe of yellow hair in front of her one giant pink eye. My eyes widened upon seeing the silver blade in her hands. The female looked up and a giant grin spread across her thin lips. “You're not meant to be down here, are you?”

“Huh?”

“You smell…human. Sinners have a certain scent and you don’t have it. We’ve got a live one, guys!”

She hopped into my lap and grabbed the top of the nightgown. I gulped at how the knife was slightly pointed at my throat. “You’re pretty for a live one, not that I’ve seen many like you before.”

“T-thanks?”

“How rude of me! I’m Niffty! I clean.”

She shook me back and forth. “A live one, hmm?”

Suddenly I felt a hand tighten on my shoulder. I looked back to see Alastor, the end of his smile reaching well past his eyes. “You didn’t quite introduce yourself to us, did you, my dear?”

“Leave her alone, Alastor!”

“Tsk, tsk, Husker. I just want to know what I should call our newest arrival.”

“I, I, I-”

I stopped when I heard the front door open, two voices chatting as they came inside. I had never been more thankful for a door to open. “Oh, hey guys! What’s going on,” The tall blonde asked.

She looked so similar to Lucifer so she must be Charlie. “We’ve got a live one, Charlie! And to think she was trying to hide,” Nifty replied.

The Princess turned her red gaze to me and I quickly threw off the deer and housekeeper. I got down on my knees and looked up at the blonde. “Please Charlie, you have to help me! Your dad is fucking crazy-”

“Oh you must be Y/n!”

My heart dropped. No. No, no, no, no. How much does she already know?

Lucifer’s daughter scooped me up to my height and pet me on the head. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you! My dad has sent me several pictures but you look much prettier in real life. But what are you doing all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be planning a wedding?”

“That’s my problem! I don’t want to be here! Please, you’ve got to help! I’m begging you!”

I could feel tears come to my eyes as I pleaded my case. Charlie’s eyes softened and she placed her hands on my shoulders. “Here, let’s take a walk. Vaggie, can you put our shopping away?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Come on.”

The blonde took me by the shoulders and led me up the grand staircase. We went up a few floors before stopping in a room that resembled a library. Charlie ushered me to sit in one of the leather armchairs and then she followed my lead. “So tell me everything. I’m sure my dad left out a few key details.”

I did. I told her how the two of us had met up until I had been forced to say yes to marrying him. While I told my tale, she didn’t say anything. She just hummed at key parts. “So can you help me?”

“I want to, I really do. However, my dad-”

“Fucking kidnapped me, Charlie! Do you really want me to go back to that?!”

She opened her mouth to say something when suddenly her phone rang. She pulled it out of her red suit jacket and her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s my dad.”

“Shit! I’m not here!”

“But…”

“You see the good in others don’t you, Charlie? Can’t you see the good in you helping me?”

She bit her lip before sighing. She clicked the answer button and held the phone to her ear. “Hey, dad. What’s up?”

Lucifer didn’t even need to be on speaker as I could hear him shouting from the phone. “Charlie dear, thank goodness you picked up! Look, I’m in serious trouble and need your assistance.”

“What can I do for you?”

“My darling bride Y/n is gone! Vanished! I left her to her own devices and when I came back she’s left me! I thought someone took her but then I found this rope hanging out the bathroom window and have you seen her? I don’t know how long she’s been gone for and I don’t want her out and about by herself. Hell’s too dangerous!”

Charlie and I made eye contact and I begged her to not give me up. Her grip tightened around her phone and I could see the battle going on in her head.

“Sorry dad, I haven’t seen her. I’ll keep an eye out though.”

“If you do find her please make sure she’s unharmed. I want my dear apple to be in one piece after all.”

“You’ve got it. But, hey, I’ve got to go. Vaggie’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, thank you sweetie.”

“You’re welcome. Love you. Bye.”

She disconnected the call. I let out the breath I was holding. She did it. She actually was going to help me!

“Okay, I know somebody who can get you back to Earth. But we’d better hurry. My dad sounds like he’s getting close.”

“Thank you so much, Charlie! I really do appreciate it!”

“Hurry now!”

She summoned a dark trenchcoat and fedora from thin air. I quickly put them on and out the front door we went. Our walk felt just as long as when I had run to the hotel, but this time demons didn’t seem to bother us. It was probably because the Princess of Hell was with me. We continued walking until we stopped at a very large mansion. Out front was a cobblestone drive and a fountain spraying water. Charlie and I walked up to the double set of dark blue doors and she knocked. They opened to reveal an imp butler, a small white mustache hiding his lips. “Hello, Princess! What can we do for you?”

“I need to speak with Stolas. It’s urgent, Pringles!”

“Follow me.”

We strutted inside and the little butler led us to a study. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you, Pringles.”

“Of course, Princess.”

The door shut behind him. The study was quite large with several bookcases housing thousands of novels near the walls. A desk with a tall, navy and gold chair sat behind a dark oak desk. The place seemed very fitting for a Prince. As we waited I found myself playing with my engagement ring. I willed myself to stop but my fingers kept rubbing it. Don’t get cold feet now, Y/n. You’re almost home free.

I heard the navy blue door open and I turned to see a very tall, skinny owl man. He wore a dark red jumpsuit with a wine red cape draped on his shoulders. White and black feathers made up the collar and they mingled with his own gray feathers. A smile found its way to his beak when he spotted us. “Charlie! It’s so good to see you, my dear!”

The two hugged and when he pulled away, he looked at me with his four red eyes. “Who might this be? A friend of yours?”

“Stolas, this is Y/n. My dad captured her and brought her down to Hell. We need to send her home to Earth.”

“Ah, so this is the infamous Y/n I’ve heard about. It’s a pleasure to be meeting you.”

He bowed. How many people has Lucifer told about me?

“But why would you want to go back to Earth? You’re getting married in a few months.”

“Because I don’t belong here! I was fucking kidnapped and am becoming a bride against my will! Please Mr Stolas, let me go home!”

“Have you and Lucifer made a contract together?”

“Huh?”

“I mean have you signed anything that he has given you?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

He bowed his head. “Then I can help. Just let me get my Grimoire.”

He held up his hand and a blue and gold book came flying towards him. The book looked heavy as it floated in the air but the owl Prince paid it no mind. He flipped through each of the pages until he landed on one. “Y/n, if I do this for you I cannot guarantee your safety. I know Lucifer. He’ll be looking for you until you’re in his grasp again.”

“That’s fine. As long as I can go back.”

“Very well.”

He chanted out a spell and before I knew it a purple portal materialized before my very eyes. “Go quickly now. I can’t hold this open for long.”

“Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it!”

“Go!”

I walked through and not a minute later the portal closed behind me. I looked around and smiled. I was back in my house in the hallway. I laughed triumphantly and threw off my disguise, making my way to the living room. I stopped when I heard the crunching of what sounded like…chips? I looked over to my couch and I felt my eyes widen.

“There you are! It took you long enough!”

~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs @purplechan9 @caniseethefourthsword @rl800 @froggybich @txpchhhhhhh @stayinguplate @theonlykawaiigod-blog @vash-yuu @musicb33nsstuff @zennylz @rosieposie005 @weirdgirlislonely @noxianwarmason @luksusowejachty234567 @nicky190i @flutistbyday2020 @insanepurplegrapes @rin22 @b-connie @yepperoniro @halparkebitch

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holdmytesseract · 5 months

Text

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

The Most Beautiful Flower

Jotun!King!Loki x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: Some side effects of the pregnancy with the twins unlocked several body insecurities, causing your husband to think of a plan to cheer you up and convince you of your beauty.

Warnings: body insecurities, pregnancy stuff, suggestive smut, tooth rotting fluff, Loki being an absolute sweetheart and most loving, caring, supporting hubby ever, protective Loki, nudity

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: This oneshot is based on a request @eleniblue had. 😊 Thank you for this, my friend! I hope you're going to like it! 😊

Ps. Chapter Two of 'Through the Years' will be posted on Thursday! 😁

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments!)

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

You stood in front of the wide full-length mirror of yours and Loki's bedroom; looking at yourself. You had just taken a bath with the help of two maidens, but preferred to get fully dressed alone.

Yes... Being now nine months pregnant with Jotun twins was everything but easy. Your feet often hurt and were swollen. Your back ached from all the weight it had to carry. You also were so much more sensitive now. Especially to touch, of course - which could be great, but also annoying.

The worst of all, though, was that you were freezing even more! You didn't know that it was possible, but... Oh, it was. Only logical with two Frost Giant babies growing within you... There were nights when even Loki's body warmth wasn't enough to keep you from freezing. Several furs and blankets were needed, until you were practically wrapped up in a cocoon. And that was only the 'beginning'... The healers told you that it was quite possible for more 'side effects' to occur - and you still had about four months to go...

You looked with critical eyes over your body; seeing several stretch marks, water retention in your legs, swollen feet and even some small freezer burn marks - especially on your belly. Not to mention that you gained a lot of weight throughout this pregnancy.

You sighed; body insecurities kicking in. This is far from beautiful, you thought. This isn't how a queen should look like... You ran your hands down the bare skin of your lower back and over your big bump, which were your twins. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes; your mind planting even more dark thoughts within your brain. What if Loki won't find me attractive anymore? What if he thinks I'm ugly? The maelstrom of negativity pulled you deeper and deeper with no chances of escape. What if he won't bed me any-

Your train of thoughts got harshly interrupted by a pair of pleasantly warm hands, which landed on your hips and glided forwards to cup your growing bump. You gasped. Touch sensitivity.

"What's that frown on your face about, my love?" The deep, velvety timbre of your husband's voice urged to your ears. Combined with the kiss he bestowed upon your bare shoulder, caused goosebumps to form on your entire body.

You were about to answer, as one of your twins gave a nudge against Loki's palm, making the king chuckle. "Someone is enjoying the touch of their father," he stated; letting his one hand roam to feel for more movement of his offspring. "Seems like they are well and healthy. What did the healers say this morning, Flower?" You nodded and placed your hands on Loki's way bigger ones; enjoying the touch nevertheless. "They are, my love. Healthy and growing as they should." Loki inhaled the scent of your freshly washed hair and cleaned skin, before lowering his head to kiss your shoulder once again. "That is good to hear. I never had doubts, though. Not with such a strong, powerful woman being their mother." Your heart skipped of course a beat at his words - but the darkness lurked within your head still.

Loki lifted his lips from your skin with a soft pop, before he looked up to meet your eyes in the mirror. "Now, my queen... Tell me... What is that frown doing on the beautiful face of yours?"

You swallowed hard; tried desperately to suppress the upcoming tears. "Nothing, my king. I was just thinking." "Thinking? About what?" Your husband asked; pressing his tall frame against yours. You shook your head. You didn't want him to see how weak and vulnerable you were in this moment. You didn't want his pity. You should be strong... Be his warrior goddess. But you weren't.

"Nothing important, Loki," you lied and turned around in his embrace to give him a fake smile.

Your husband looked intensely at you for a moment; frowning. He sensed that something was off. He knew. He wasn't blind, neither stupid. But he also didn't want to pressure you into talking to him - so he played it off.

"Alright, my love."

Over the next days, the Jotun king made sure to always have an eye on you. Sure, he was already watching you like a hawk; barely leaving you alone. After all, you were carrying his children. His primal instinct left him no other choice than to look after his pregnant wife. And honestly? He wouldn't want it any other way. He must protect what was his.

Now, though, he watched you even closer; trying to figure out what exactly was bothering you - and he soon got his answer...

Some days, you were awake before him. Nothing unusual, but now that you were pregnant, it happened more often. Just like that day.

You were standing in front of the mirror - once more looking at your unattractive self. Usually, you did that when Loki was away and couldn't notice, but this time... You thought he was asleep, but unbeknownst to you, he wasn't...

Loki shifted inside the bed; arm reaching out to feel for you, but your side of the bed was cold and empty. She's already awake and up, the king thought. He was about to settle down again and continue to sleep, when he suddenly heard a heartbreaking sigh. Frowning, he turned on his back and blinked his eyes open. His bare abs clenched as he sat up; ruby eyes searching for the origin of said sigh. Then he saw you. Standing in front of the mirror; only dressed in undergarments. Your gaze was focused on a deep stretch mark on the side of your left hip. The moment Loki saw a tear running down the side of your face, he knew. It fell like scales from his eyes. It all made sense now. Your strange behaviour. Why you avoided his touch more often and hid your body from him; avoiding him seeing you naked.

The changes your body went through during pregnancy was bothering you. You were insecure.

His heart ached upon watching this; knowing exactly what you must be thinking. He wanted to jump up from the bed, run over to you and scream at you how utterly beautiful you were to him, but he knew he couldn't. You were clearly trying to hide this from him. If he would confront you now, you'd feel caught and probably even embarrassed. So, heavy-heartedly, Loki quietly laid back down; pretending to be asleep. But his mind was working; searching for a way to make those dreadful insecurities go away - and it didn't take him long to figure out a plan...

"My king, where are you taking me? I know you said it is a surprise - and I really don't wish to ruin this, but... My feet are hurting. I'm afraid I won't be able to walk much longer..." Your hand was entwined with Loki's, as he led you - carefully and slowly, blindfolded to somewhere only he knew.

He said he wanted to take you out a bit, but make it a surprise and not tell you where. Just the two of you. No guards. No interruptions. You agreed, of course; trusting him with your life.

"I know, my darling Flower. Apologies. We'll arrive soon," he said; squeezing your hand in a reassuring manner. Sure, you had a carriage for about half the way, but the rest had to be reached on foot. "Is everything else alright? Beside the aching feet?" Loki stopped for a moment, to check on your well-being. You nodded; smiling softly. "We're good, love." "Good." Loki pressed his lips against your forehead; kissing you softly.

"Let us walk on. We have almost reached our destination."

You couldn't deny, that you were quite curious about Loki's plans - and you really thought about it a lot. But you hadn't anticipated what was awaiting you, once the king announced that you had arrived...

"Are you ready, Y/N?" You nodded excitedly; free hand roaming your baby bump. "Yes!" "Alright." You felt how Loki let go of your hand and took a step closer to you; the ground rustling beneath his feet. "Brace yourself, Flower." He was audibly smiling, while he gently untied the blindfold on the back of your head. Once he did that, he stepped aside. "Open your eyes, my queen." You did, of course, causing a gasp immediately to leave your lips.

You were in the forest. But not on Jotunheim... This was Asgard. A big picnic blanket was spread out on the ground, with a lot of things to eat splayed out on top of it. Asgardian food. Your gaze travelled further. Behind the blanket, there was- "No way, Loki..." Your eyes widened. "You... You took me to-" Loki appeared in your field of view; smiling. "To our lake, yes." You felt how your eyes started to water immediately.

The little lake in the forests beside the Asgardian training camp. The lake where you and the king met; spend a lot of time in and falling helplessly in love with each other in the end. This small lake was a big and important part of yours and Loki's life. And now he had taken you there. It had been quite a few years since you lastly saw the lake. Too much was going on in both yours and Loki's life. Until now...

"Oh, my love this... This is amazing." You cried - happy tears. "It's so great to be here again. So many memories are connected to this place..." Loki nodded; wrapping you up in the tightest hug possible. "Indeed. I love being back here as well." "How do I deserve this? For you to take me here?" The king just shrugged his shoulders with a smile. "Does a man in love needs a reason to take out the woman he loves?"

Of course, Loki had his reason - but he didn't want to confront you with it just now.

"I-I suppose not," you answered; softly blushing at his charming words. "See? Now let's dig into the food, shall we? I'm starving."

After the delicious food the royal Asgardian kitchen of the palace had prepared for you was eaten, Loki had thought of a way to approach the body insecurities you had developed.

"Darling," Loki started; getting your attention. "It's a beautiful warm day today... Would you like to go for a swim?" The king noticed how your demeanour shifted immediately. You felt visibly uncomfortable; eyes widening. "A-A swim?" "Yes," Loki said with a smile; already starting to get rid of his armour and loincloth. Your eyes widened even more - if that was possible as you watched him getting naked. "Skinny dipping?" You squeaked up; almost shocked. "Sure, my love. It is how we met, isn't it?" He smiled smugly; giving you a smouldering look. "So... Are you joining me?" Your husband was about to get rid of the loincloth, covering his most private parts, when you stopped him. "L-Loki, stop, please, I-" He halted immediately in his movements; beautiful ruby eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

"What is it, Flower?" "I-I-" You stammered out; not knowing what to say. "Nothing, I just..." Loki's eyebrows slanted; a soft expression taking over his face. "My queen... I know there's something wrong. I already knew it for days - weeks, even... I noticed. I'm not blind, darling. I just didn't pressure you into talking to me; hoping you'd probably come to me on your own, but..." He reached for your hand; gently taking it in his bigger one. "Please... Don't shut me out. Talk to me."

You sighed; bottom lip trembling dangerously. That was exactly what you wanted to prevent from happening - but well, you weren't able to. He had seen it. Now it was already too late anyway. Hiding was impossible.

"Please..." Loki whispered and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger. The touch causing a gasp to leave your lips; feeling the touch sensitivity once more.

"I-I'm afraid that... That you don't find me attractive anymore." With those words leaving your lips, Loki had been proven right. This was about your body insecurities.

"What? But why, my love? Why would I ever find you unattractive?" You blinked; trying again to suppress the tears. "Be-Because I've gained weight since I'm pregnant... I'm far from the beautiful and strong woman you married. I have stretch marks. I have swollen feet. There a water retention in my legs and even freezer-" Loki couldn't listen to this any longer. How you talked so ill of yourself. So, he intervened.

"Y/N, no. Let me me stop you right here," your husband said in a serious voice; his heart aching and bleeding. "Please don't talk like that about yourself. Please." "But-" He shook his head, interrupting you straight again. "No, my queen, you are listening to me now." Loki took both your hands in his now; making you look at him. "Your body is changing, yes - but... Flower... You are pregnant. It's normal for your body to change. It's natural." He stated softly; squeezing your hands. "And by the holy roots of Yggdrasil, please... Please don't think that I find you less attractive because of that. Norns, no! Quite the opposite... I find myself being more attracted towards you than ever before."

You blinked; unable to process his words. Could this be true? "W-What? You... What? H-How? I-I mean..."

"How?" Loki couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Darling, you are practically glowing! Your skin is so soft and sensitive. Every touch feels like an igniting spark. I love that you gained weight, because..." He started; hungry eyes wandering over your whole body. "Everything got bigger - and I mean that in the sexiest way possible." He winked - and you blushed. "Your bum got bigger - don't think I haven't noticed that, because I have." Another wink. "Your baby bump, of course. My two favourite ladies..." His eyes settled on your chest for a moment. "And those thighs... Look at them." Loki ran his palms up the sides of your legs, up to your hips. "Delicious. How could I not want you?"

You just stared at him, at a loss of words; listening to everything he said.

The king's ruby eyes were trained on your swollen stomach once more, "I don't care about stretch marks or freezer burn marks or water retention." hands following suit. "All I care about is yours and our children's well-being. Your body is performing a miracle, darling. You are growing our twins. Carrying and nurturing them. This is more than I could've ever asked for."

You weren't able to hold back your tears any longer. His words touched you deeply; were like balm for your wounded soul. "R-Really?" You stammered out; eyes searching his. Loki smiled; was towering above you by now. "Really. Every word I just spoke is true. You are truly the most beautiful woman in all the nine realms. My beautiful, unique, special flower."

You softly smiled at him through the tears; still a bit insecure, but not as much as you were before. Cupping your husband's cheeks, you pulled him down for a kiss - which he gladly returned; and you didn't let go of him. You kept your lips locked to his; needing all his love and attention. You literally took the king's breath away and at some point he desperately needed to breathe, so he let one hand wander to your side; fingertips gently starting to tickle you.

Due to the pregnancy you were more ticklish than before. Therefore caused your husband's small tickling attack your immediate retreat from his sinful lips to let out a hearty giggle.

"Loki, s-stop, I-" He just smirked; mischief sparkling in his ruby eyes. He started to tickle you even more, using his other hand too - until you were not just giggling, but laughing. "Lokiiii! P-Please, I-" "Only if you promise to not hide your beauty from me anymore and take a swim with me." "O-Ho-Hokay, I- I promise!" Loki stopped then; turning his tickling into caressing. "There you go, my love." He smiled lovingly down at you and bestowed another kiss upon your lips. "Now come." The king got rid of the last item of clothing which prevented him from being nude, then walked straight into the lake - giving you a delicious view of his glorious, peachy butt, firm, strong thighs and muscular back. You swallowed hard; trying desperately to not get impure thoughts right now.

He dipped underneath the water; getting his whole body wet, before he re-emerged; shaking the water out of his luscious raven curls. You bit your lip at the sight; thighs clenching together instantly. "Are you going to join me now, my queen? I promise, here is nobody but us. We are alone." You nodded; taking a deep breath and started to undress. Loki watched your every move; his eyes not leaving your body once again. You couldn't help but to blush under his stunning, deep ruby eyes.

Slowly, you moved to get up from the picnic blanket - which was a tricky task by now. "Shall I help you, Flower?" Loki asked; was ready to jump to your side immediately. "No, no, it's okay. I got it, my love." You reassured him and in the end made it to stand up.

Loki was watching you as you took careful steps towards the shore of the lake; a smile upon his lips. Being the gentleman he was, he helped you inside the water, of course.

"You look like a goddess, my love. Truly beautiful." "T-Thank you." You took his hand; letting him guide you into the lake. Loki's other hand was immediately on your hip to support you; helping you swim over to the familiar stones, on which you could lean onto. You placed your arms on the edge; supporting yourself. Loki swam up behind you; embracing you and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"This is wonderful, Loki. Thank you for taking me here. I didn't realise how much I missed this place - until now." You felt him nodding. "Me too, Y/N. It's great to relive old memories here." "Mhm... Definitely. When I think back to when we met..." You started; giggling. "You were such a handsome, arrogant asshole - it drove me crazy how perfect, yet annoying you were." The king chuckled. "Well, I guess you are right. I was. I just didn't know how to get along with those sudden, strange feelings I harboured for you." "Understandable." Another chuckle. "I never thought I'd get you back after all that happened, but... Look at us now... We are married, the king and queen of Jotunheim and expecting offspring." "Crazy, isn't it?" Loki pulled you a little closer; planting several kisses on the wet skin of your neck. "Mhhh... Crazy but real."

Pleasant silence spread between the two of you. You were both just enjoying the warmth of the sun, the soft breeze rustling the trees and the sound of the nature around you; bathing in each other's proximity - until Loki broke the silence again...

He inhaled a deep breath; burying his nose in your hair. "You know what I'd love to do now, Flower?" You shook your head; completely unaware of the not so innocent thoughts ghosting through your husband's mind. "No, my king. Enlighten me, please?" Loki smirked - unbeknownst to you and lowered his head, only to press his soft lips against the shell of your ear. "I'd love to ravish you right here on that very stone, like I almost did on that very day a few years ago. Finish what I- we started. Can you remember, darling?" He whispered, causing a shiver to run down your spine; eyes widening.

Oh and how you remembered that day! After all, he had almost taken your innocence...

"O-Of course I remember." Your husband chuckled darkly, "Would you like that, my precious Flower? Making love for real this time? Without being afraid of getting caught while doing such a forbidden thing?" and pressed his hips up against your bottom; eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You felt how your brain fogged up; arousal flooding your veins. You turned around in his embrace; Y/E/C eyes literally dripping with want. "I-I would love to, m-my king."

You were about to dip your hand past the water surface and reach for the throbbing desire between his legs, when he suddenly reached for your hand; stopping you. You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was undeniable arousal in his rubies as well, but love and care overweight the lust - as if he had realised something. A switch in his head turned.

He shook his head; averting his eyes. "Apologies, my love, but I think we rather shouldn't do that."

You frowned at his words; your built up self-confidence almost crashing down again. Wasn't he the one who insisted this? Wasn't he the one who-

"I don't want to hurt you, you know - or Norns forbid, our children. You are nine months pregnant, Y/N. Making love on a stone beside a lake isn't perhaps the best option. Especially not for your back. You need to be comfortable - and a stone is the exact opposite."

You blinked. Oh...

Blushing, you nodded. "Perhaps, yes, my king." Loki smiled; pressing a sweet kiss on your lips. "Let's get you back home in our chambers and I promise you that I am going to show you tonight how attractive I think you are, sweet Flower. My queen needs to be thoroughly worshipped, like she deserves - and I hate that I wasn't able to do this in a long time, but tonight, I'm going to make up for it, darling, I swear by the holy roots of Yggdrasil."

#the ice flower au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #jotun loki smut #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki x you #jotun loki x y/n #pregnancy fic #loki x pregnant reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Dirty Work 39

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I slept a lot better so you get a touch longer chapter today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sit in the mud, mortified. You want desperately to leave but you don’t have the strength to do so. Your flight might be seen for exactly what it is; cowardice. You don’t have much but you have a sliver of dignity to you.

So you pretend. Just like those years you went to school and pretended everything was okay. That your father wasn’t awful and your house wasn’t dingy and smoky. All this time you’ve put your head down and obeyed Mr. Laufeyson as if you had no other purpose. You can do it.

You mimic Sif and stay reclined. You close your eyes and try to enjoy the soft harp music plucking from speakers. You should’ve gone with Frigga. A bit of sweat is better than stewing in dirt and shame.

Your mind races. How long is normal? When can you leave without giving away that doubt gnawing in your stomach? Why would you want to leave? So you can go back and face Mr. Laufeyson? What will you tell him? Do you tell him?

“Thank you, babe, marvelous,” Hela’s silky voice interrupts the din. You open your eyes and look over as her lithe figure slinks in like a cat, “where is she? Ah there you–”

Hela stops short as her eyes flick from you to Sif. The other woman remains silent, eyes closed as she is unbothered by the disturbance.

Hela sets down the glass on the ledge of the tub next to hers and swipes off her robe, handing it over to the attendant behind her. Her skin is rosy and damp already.

“Sif Sigmund,” Hela declares as she lowers herself into the mud bath, “what a coincidence.”

“Is it?” Sif opens a single eye, “what with Walpurgisnacht coming so quickly, you must be hard at work.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Nor I you,” Sif rebuffs, “I always thought you loathed it here.”

“Passing through,” Hela dismissed, “family.”

“And the help?” Sif suggests as she opens her other eye and looks at you.

Hela snickers, “the help?” She echoes, “some of us can be friends with other women, honey.”

“Friends?” Sif squints, “I never knew that to be a line with you.”

“Don’t be jealous, it looks awful on you,” Hela retorts.

“Jealous? You Odinsons always thought so highly of yourselves.”

“So highly you wanted to be one of us,” Hela snipes and lifts her glass, “babe, this is a spa, I’ve come here to relax, not argue with homewreckers.”

Sif’s lips press tightly. You gulp and peer between the women, confused. There’s animosity there which both reassures you and worries you. Despite Frigga’s praises, it doesn’t seem the gorgeous black-haired beauty left on the best foot. Or rather, this a show of how the Odinsons can be vengeful to those who do not fit into their pretty little picture.

Your eyes meet Sif and her thick brows slant. She scoffs and shakes her head.

“Not much of a home to wreck,” she mutters before she takes a sip.

You look away and resist the urge to drown yourself in the mud. Will she be attending Walpurgisnacht? Should you warn Laufeyson? Your chest racks at the thought. You don’t think he would take it as caution, he might even be upset at the mention of her.

Better to just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.

✨

You return to the Odinson abode less than refreshed. As Frigga and Hela glow, you feel a dark cloud around you. You keep thinking about that woman; Sif. Just the thought of her name makes you shrivel up. So tall and sleek and elegant. You don’t know why you care so much, you and Laufeyson have an arrangement, not a relationship.

As you pass through the front door, Frigga proclaims that she’ll have some iced tea and snacks put out on the veranda for the evening. You nod and wave your bag wordlessly, you’ll hang your dress upstairs and return.

You scurry up the staircase and slip through the double doors of the bedroom. You linger at the threshold, looking around. Something seems amiss. Something’s… different but you can’t place it.

You go to the wardrobe and hang the dress within, but itself. Your hand flutters over the sewn on silk flowers. It’s so pretty, you don’t know if you should even wear it. You’ll look like a child playing dressup. Maybe you should ask Laufeyson if you should even attend; you could stay in the kitchen and help like you did with Corissa.

You close the wardrobe and flit back out. Before you can reach the stairs, you hear a familiar thunderous timbre. You stop at the rolling voice.

“Father, I have been on my best behaviour. I don’t see why I shouldn’t have my reward…”

Your eyes round and you quickly press on. You shouldn’t be listening. That’s none of your business. Besides, the last thing you need is to run into Thor again. Especially alone.

Downstairs, you find the house desolate. You go into the kitchen and see the elder maid at the counter, stirring ice into a deep blue mixture. Gertrude, you remember. You give a measly hello and rush through to the veranda doors.

Hela is already sat, her head tilted up to the sun as her eyes are hidden beneath her big blocky sunglasses. She doesn’t flinch as you claim a seat of your own, nearly curling up in a ball atop it. He fans herself with her long fingers.

She sighs as Gertrude emerges to serve the iced tea, declaring it wild blueberry before retreating. You fidget but don’t move to pour a glass. You’re thirsty but too distracted to worry about your chalky tongue.

“Did you have a productive conversation with Sif?” Hela frightens you as she sits straight.

“Um, I didn’t say much,” you shrug.

“I wouldn’t think, but did she?”

You shake your head. She didn’t say much of anything. You suspect you aren’t worth her breath.

“Hm, nothing about my brother… brothers?”

“Well… she introduced herself and told me to send her regards to Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Oh, babe, don’t do that. Surely don’t,” she warns. “Ugh, what a pot stirrer she is.”

You frown. Of course you wouldn’t have carried that message. You couldn’t bring yourself to even say her name to Mr. Laufeyson. You’ve seen how his eyes darken when he hears it.

“Look, babe,” Hela plants an elbow on the armrest of her chair, “we should clear the air.”

You tweak your head to the side. What does she mean?

“I know I got carried away when we first met. We both did. I sense there is some tension left between us but we must move past it, yes? It was a bit of fun, nothing more. I can’t have you getting confused,” she flutters her fingers, “I see a pretty thing and I want to play with it but I’ll spare you the pain, you’ve enough bother with my brother. I have a rather short attention span.”

You blink, “oh…kay.”

“So we’re agreed, as fun as this would be, it’s simple to messy,” she smirks, “not that I mind a mess.”

You nod and reach for the pitcher to distract yourself. That day flashes in your mind; the clothes, the mimosas, her lips… you almost forgot it all in the whirlwind of the last few days. You think she may have too until that very moment.

“Darlings,” Frigga emerges in deep pink cotton, “oh, look at this, delicious.”

She sits and uses the tiny golden tongs to serve herself a plate of artisanal crackers then uses the knife to scrape on some of the soft cheese. You watch her, your stomach growling even as it turns. You’re too anxious to eat.

This whole thing is ripe to be a disaster. No, you will be the disaster.

✨

You excuse yourself from the table. You need to lay down. You’ll retreat and hide until Mr. Laufeyson comes to find you. That’s all you can do.

You’re cautious as you climb the stairs, almost wishing you’d ask for an escort. You listen for the same boisterous echo as before. It’s quiet. You let out a breath; no Thor.

You let yourself through the double doors and close them firmly. You turn the lock and it schlocks into place. The house is so still and silent, it’s ominous. You blame your addled wits and the long day. You’re on edge after the chaos of it all and that to come.

You go to bed and sit. You hang your head and sigh. You rub your cheeks and slowly raise yourself up, looking around as you once more feel something is off. Your luggage… you left it against the wall, still unpacked, and now, it’s not there.

You stand and peer around, spinning. Where would it have gone? Did Gertrude or Frida, the maids take it? You go back to the wardrobe, it’s still empty. As you turn and near the dresser, a click makes you wince. You look at the doors, they remain locked and sealed.

The clearing of a throat draws you around to face the bathroom door. You hadn’t noticed before that it was closed. Now it’s open but still filled. Mr. Laufeyson surprises you as he wears only a robe and smirks at you. Has he been waiting?

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you titter as you mash your palms together. “I didn’t know you…”

He puts a finger to his lips to hush you, a coy smirk twisting his lips. He turns his hand and curls his fingertip, beckoning you across the room. Shakily, you pull your hands apart and march over to him. He backs up, opening the wide door with him to reveal the sparkling bathroom. You enter hesitantly, unsure, eyes scanning frantically.

You stand in the doorway as he backs up. Your eyes bounce around the space desperately and finally stop as you find your laptop, the laptop he provided you, open on the counter. You shift uncomfortably, a tide of confusion welling over.

“Mr. Laufeyson, what’s…”

He hushes you again, this time with a hiss. You snap your mouth shut and swallow your voice. You look at him, not in the face, but at his throat and how it constricts.

“Pet, you are such a diligent worker. I admire that about you,” he begins, his voice like the distant threat of a storm, “truly, you’d not be here if I didn’t. You’ve ever been so thorough.”

There’s a mocking lilt in his words. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, waiting for the truth. Waiting for the insults you know must dance on his tongue to escape.

“But I didn’t expect you to be so…exhaustive in your research,” he goes to the laptop and taps the space bar to wake up the screen. You frown as he waves you closer.

As you step up, your heart clenches at the first noise. A man’s growl. You don’t understand until you see the screen clearly. You’d watched the video on mute but you know it by sight. That shower one he’d nearly caught you with before. You didn’t even think to erase your history.

“Pet,” he angles to you and touches your cheek. You flinch and hug yourself, “you are a naughty little minx, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” your voice is hollow and quiet, “I didn’t… I was curious…”

“If you are so curious,” he lets his hand trail down our neck and along your shoulder, “well, you could always ask me.”

He grips your upper arm and pulls it from across your chest. He makes you face him as your heart batters your ribc age. You’re lightheaded as the colours of the screen move in your peripheral and the low volume tickles in your eardrums. You sway as Mr. Laufeyson holds onto your arms.

“Pet,” he drags his hands up and down your arms, “you needn’t be so shy. Didn’t we have a wonderful night?”

You bat your lashes and nod. It was nice but… you’re still not her. You’ll never be her. You’re just a thing to him. Like Hela said, ‘a pretty thing’ or ‘creature’, as Thor taunted, a ‘maid’.

“Well, pet, I’ve reviewed your research,” his hands move to the front of your blouse and he tugs on the fabric, “and come to my own conclusions.”

He yanks as you stand paralysed. You only raise your arms as you sense his frustration. You stare straight ahead, barely processing what’s happening as he undresses you. Your skirt falls down your legs as he traces its path with his touch. He rolls down your stocking and circles around you to unhook your bra.

He pauses as he dips his thumbs under the fabric of your panties and bow to growl along your crown. He rips them down and lets them drop to your feet. He wraps you up in his arms, groping your chest as he rocks you. You feel his arousal, his need. You wouldn’t think of it as desire; he doesn’t truly want you, he wants what he can do to you.

“Pet, why don’t you run us a shower,” he slithers against your ear.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eagerly escape his embrace as he lets you go.

You focus on the easy task. You go to the shower and slide back the glass door. You crank on the faucet, testing the water with your fingers until you have the right temperature. You are deliberate in each step, ignoring his movement behind you.

You squeak as he’s right against you again, his robe gone. He urges you into the show and slides the door shut in his stead. He holds you flush to him, an arm hooked around your middle as his other finds your chin. He turns your head as he leans his own around to meet your lips. His hard dick presses into your back as he groans into you.

His tongue delves deep into your mouth, his kiss sloppy and greedy. You let him do whatever he pleases, doing your best to play along. Your skin speckles with more than the heat of the shower as it reminds you of that video.

What did he think when he discovered that? Why had he been nosing through your things anyhow? Well, they aren’t truly yours, they belong to him, just like you do. Just another possession among his collection.

His hands rove up and down your body, exploring it as the showerhead slakes you in hot water, furling your bodies in steaming. He feels along your stomach and down your pelvis. His fingers crawl down to your cunt and urges your feet apart with one of his. He rubs you until you gasp.

He pulls his mouth from yours as tiny wisps puff from your mouth. You shake at the buzzing thrum of his touch. You don’t want to feel but you feel everything. He’s stealing that from you. Using you any way he likes.

And you let him. That’s your job. That’s what you agreed to.

He shifts back, coolness filling the space between your bodies as his hand slips from your cunt. He grasps your thigh and lowers himself to his knees behind you. You let out a strangled noise as he grips your hips and leads you backwards.

“Put your hands on the wall, pet,” he demands.

Obedience. That’s your only skill. You take orders. You do what you’re told. You do what’s expected.

He trails his hand around the back of your leg as he bends you at an angle. He keeps his other hand firmly around your hip as he plays with you, swiping up and down your folds, poking and prodding and swirling. He stops along your entrance and you clench as he delves into you.

One finger he presses his thumb to your clit. He rocks his hand, quickly stirring your pleasure. Then another finger, the strain making you whimper. Your fingers curl against the tile and your thighs quake. He pushes into you, over and over, until you’re panting wildly.

As if he senses you teetering on the precipice, he pulls his fingers from you. You quiver as the emptiness tamps the rising swell. He edges you back further so you bend deeper, keeping your palms to the wall. His hand swerves back around the front of your leg and he glides between your folds once more.

Something tickles against your cunt from behind and suddenly a warmth mingles with your own heat. You squeal as you realises what he’s doing. He buries his face into you from behind, tilting your hips as he sloppily laps at you, replacing his fingers with his tongue. The coil in you twists back into place.

Oh god. It’s even better. You’ve never felt like this before. Hot and cold at the same time, shaky and willowy, unable to think as you’re swept away completely. You close your eyes, throwing your head back as you arch your spine, welcoming him.

He groans and growls as he drinks you up, pushing you closer and closer, fluttering his fingers against you between the flick of his tongue. Then, all once, he stops. You’re there, ready to take the plunge, ready to dive into the sheer pleasure coursing through you like a river, and he just stops?

“Say my name,” he nips your bottom, “say it when you cum.”

You gulp, “Loki..” you utter uncertainly.

His only assurance is him diving back into you. His tongue furiously flicks and swirls and laps and begs for more. You feel your slickness smearing across his lips, flowing onto his tongue, and that adds to the vibrant effect of his eager tending. You choke and gasp and let the rise overcome you.

“Lo… Lo…” you quake as your insides knot, “Lo…ki.” You puff and whine as it all erupts, “Loki!”

Your thighs tremble as he purrs through your orgasm. He delights in you pouring yourself into him, surrendering to him as you stand on your toes, leaning into the wall to keep yourself from collapsing. But he doesn’t stop. Not this time. Even as you're ready to scream and slap him away.

He keeps going. He keeps going even though you can’t bear it. He’ll keep going and you’ll let him. That’s the deal. Your body is his but your mind is your own. You’ll just do your best not to think too much.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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scalingsvt8thusiast · 23 days

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Skin-Deep Chapter 14

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: Final chapter of my super duper long series :D I hope you all enjoy!

“Vernon, I don’t know why your shoes don’t match your pants.” You hissed at your brother as the two of you were lead into the ballroom by one of Minghao’s attendants.

“Well, if you had just helped me pick, like I asked,” Vernon hissed back, “we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“It’s not my fault all your shoes are ugly, bro.” You argued quietly. Annoying your brother was so much fun, it helped take your mind off he-who-shall-not-be-named.

“Ah, the ever bickering Chwe twins.” Wen Junhui said, strolling up to the two of you.

“Jun! I didn’t know you were back!” You said, pulling away from Vernon to give Junhui a hug.

“China was such a bore,” Junhui rolled his eyes, “My dad made me sit through 50 business meetings in a day.”

“This is why we don’t attend meetings.” Vernon said, rubbing his nose while shaking his head.

“My dad’s insistent on me attending, he wants me to take over the company soon.” Junhui said solemnly.

Junhui’s parents were the largest distributers of cement in all of China, or maybe Asia. You weren’t sure. You and your brother had met him via Minghao on a trip to China with your parents. The four of you tore up China’s nightlife in your high school days. You smiled at the memory.

“Minghao sure is popular.” Vernon marvelled at the amount of people in the room.

“Well, when your father’s a top politician…” Junhui trailed off, spotting Minghao making his way over. “There he is now! The birthday boy.”

Minghao’s father was a top politician in Haicheng. His family also had some business in the tea making industry. His wealth rivalled that of Junhui’s. Despite that, Minghao and Junhui were amongst the humblest people you knew.

Minghao had a wide grin on his face as he hugged Junhui, exchanging greetings. He then turned to you and Vernon.

“Y/n! Vernon! I haven’t seen you two in years!” Minghao cried, giving you and your brother a bone-breaking hug.

“Happy birthday!” You said, once Minghao had released the two of you.

“Happy birthday.” Vernon echoed, as he held out two boxes for the birthday boy.

“You didn’t have to!” Minghao said, immediately grabbing the boxes. You had always gifted him the best birthday presents, Minghao planned to disappear in the next 5 minutes to rip open your present.

“Just between you and me,” You whispered, pulling Minghao closer to you, “Vernon gave you socks.”

“I did not give you socks.” Vernon deadpanned, knowing his sister was out to mess with him tonight.

The three of you burst out in laughter at your brother’s annoyed face.

“Oh, I want you guys to meet my friends!” Minghao said, dragging Jun by the arm as you and Vernon followed.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice shouted said.

“Hoshi?!” You resounded, watching as the boy ran up to you. Almost knocking you over with a hug.

“I missed you so much!” Real tears falling from Soonyoung’s eyes.

“Oh my god Hosh, please don’t cry.” An embarrassed grin on your face as you patted the bawling man on the back.

“No one wants to go with me to that tiger cafe,” Hoshi said in between tears, “Do you know how hard that was for me?”

You chuckled, realising how much you missed your dramatic friend. When he finally released you, you were greeted by the other boys.

“Hi! I’m Jihoon.” He began with an outstretched hand. “You probably don’t remember me-,”

“Of course I remember you! We met at the producer showcase!” You smiled, giving him a hug. “I’m a very big fan of Woozi.”

Jihoon ears turned a deep shade of red at the mention of his pseudonym.

He went back to standing next to Soonyoung who was still sniffling, whispering to the taller man, “I knew I always liked her.”

You introduced all of them to your brother but you couldn’t ignore the nagging question you had at the back of your mind.

“Did Seungcheol come as well?”

Seungcheol had locked himself in a cubicle in the toilet.

Yes, he knows he was being extremely immature.

When Minghao had pointed you out to him, he couldn’t handle seeing you in the arms of another man. Before he knew it, he was making a beeline for the bathroom. Not caring as he apparently bulldozed some prince of Monaco on his journey.

He could stay in here the whole night. Right?

He knew you didn’t like to stay at parties for long periods, so if he just sat out here for two, no, maybe three hours? He would be safe to leave.

Yes, sit here. Ignoring his growling stomach and dwindling amount of orange juice.

“Cheol, I know you’re in here.” He could hear Jeonghan’s singsong voice from outside the cubicle.

“Go away!” He sang back. He could literally feel himself sweating. Why oh why did he wear a tie today?

“Cheol,” A knock came on the cubicle door. “You can’t avoid her forever.”

Seungcheol sighed, opening the door, facing his annoying friend.

Jeonghan gave him a wide grin, sort of resembling the Joker.

“You knew!” Seungcheol’s eyebrows shooting up with realisation. “You knew she’d be here! And you didn’t tell me!”

Jeonghan shrugged, he was pretty proud of himself right now. “If I told you, you wouldn’t have come.”

“Han, I look like an idiot.” Seungcheol said, gesturing to himself.

Jeonghan tilted his head in agreement. “Well, if you keep hiding in the bathroom like this…”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” Seungcheol groaned, face palming.

“Your girl’s out there, Cheol. Talk to her!” Jeonghan said.

“I don’t know what to say!” Seungcheol cried, throwing his hands up and effectively his orange juice everywhere. He had planned on speaking to you, he just needed to plan on what he would actually say.

Jeonghan side stepped, dodging the splash zone, “Gee, I don’t know, maybe start with apology? Or an explanation?”

“Would she even want to speak to me?” Seungcheol’s shoulders fell at the thought. “She came with another guy.”

“Her brother?” Jeonghan’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “Why are you worried about her brother?”

“That’s her brother?” Seungcheol said, his posture improving with relief.

“What the fuck? Bro how little do you know about her?” Jeonghan questioned in disbelief, his friend was truly an idiot.

“I mean, I know about her brother.” Seungcheol asserted, as if he didn’t just mistake your brother for someone else. “I just have no idea what he looks like.”

“Right.” Jeonghan said, not convinced at all.

“Not the point!” Seungcheol spluttered, “How am I going to talk to her?”

“Look, just walk up to her and apologise, start begging, on your knees preferably.” Jeonghan said as he read the text message he’d just received from Joshua.

“You might want to hurry up, Mingyu just walked through the door and there’s only so much Hoshi can do to distract him before he beats your ass.”

Seungcheol stepped out from the bathroom wearily, he spotted Mingyu being forced by Soonyoung to watch videos of baby tigers. Soonyoung would later argue that his folder full of tiger videos came into handy at a time of Seungcheol’s grave need.

Seungcheol met Soonyoung’s eyes, the younger man frantically turning his head to the direction where you were standing. You still hadn’t noticed Seungcheol, caught up in your conversation with Minghao about the wonders of meditation.

Seungcheol approached you and Minghao. Minghao noticed him first, nodding at him when he saw him coming.

Minghao had already been brought up to speed by Seokmin. Sure, he hadn’t seen the two of you together before but if he knew one thing, it was couples. And he thought that you and Seungcheol would make the cutest couple. So he immediately offered his assistance.

“Oh, it seems like Shuhua just got here! I need to go welcome her! Will you be ok?” Minghao said, pretending to spot the bubbly girl at the front door.

“Oh, no worries, go ahead! I’ll be here!” You said, shooing your friend away.

Once Minghao stalked off, you pulled out your phone, texting your brother to join you.

“Y/n.”

You froze mid-text. You knew that voice. That voice you were so in love with.

You bit your lip and willed yourself to turn around.

“Seungcheol.” You said, coming face to face with the cause of all your pain.

Seungcheol felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. After being deprived of you for months, he was finally close enough to appreciate your beauty. His eyes traced every single one of your features, hoping to memorise them at risk of this being the last interaction he could ever have with you. His saw the way your eyes shone under the light, reflecting the colours of the room, holding his entire universe in them. He marvelled at your luscious lips, the way you parted them when you were surprised. He stood in awe of how amazing you looked in your gown, all black lace on beautiful skin.

He blinked, once, twice, pulling himself out of his you-induced trance.

“I-,”

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” You interrupted, not wanting nosy strangers to eavesdrop into your.

You lead him up a flight of stairs and into an empty hallway. Finally you found what you were looking for, a moonlit balcony overlooking a lake. Away from the crowd.

The two of you stood at arm’s length apart, his eyes gazing into yours.

“Y/n,” Seungcheol breath out, appreciating the divine view of you leaning so casually against the stone railings, your skin seemed to be glowing under the soft beams of the moon.

“Seungcheol?” You questioned when he didn’t say anything else.

Your eyes searched his face, hoping to see any signs of regret.

His eyes were tired as if he hadn’t been sleeping for days. His skin almost transparent because of how pale he was.

Not being able to stop yourself, you brought a hand to his cheek. A look of concern on your face.

Seungcheol felt himself melt into your palm. His eyes fluttering shut, a lone tear escaping. He was so starved for your touch. Even a small brush from you would have had him reeling.

“Cheol?” You encouraged, swiping away the tear with your thumb.

He opened his eyes only to be met by your gorgeous smile.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I should have talked to you, I should have talked to you right after that stupid dinner.” He placed a hand on yours, afraid to lose contact with you. “I am so sorry for how my parents behaved, for how I behaved.”

“I’m sorry for not speaking to you for so long,” he paused, gathering himself, “I’m so sorry I’m only apologising now.”

He gently guided your hand off his cheek, encapsulating your hand with his. He was so gentle with you, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“Cheol, oh my god, get up!” You were horrified as you watched him get on one knee.

Your lover stubbornly stayed in his position despite your incessant pleas.

“Please, if there’s anything I can do to show you how sorry I am.” Seungcheol begged, “I’ll do anything to even have a sliver of a chance to be yours again.”

There was nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes. He was willing to be stripped bare, showing you his rawest emotions, hoping that you would at least consider forgiving him.

“Cheol, you are so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes at your stupid boyfriend. You used all your strength to pull him up and towards you, wrapping your arms around him.

“I forgive you.” You sighed with content, finally in the comfort of his arms.

“I was never mad at you.” You explained, bringing your head away from his chest to meet his shocked eyes. “I was just upset that you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Seungcheol apologised, his arms tightened around you. “I promise, for as long as I live, I will never put you through that ever again.”

You gave him a soft smile, bringing your hands up to cup his face.

“Apology accepted. Now be a good boyfriend and kiss your girlfriend.”

Seungcheol smiled appreciatively, his eyes never losing the unending adoration he had for you. He brought his lips to brush against yours, asking for permission. You stood on your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his, sealing the kiss.

Seungcheol swore, he could never get over the feeling of your kisses. The sensation of your lips on his made him feel like putty. He felt like a depraved man, drinking you up as if you were the only source of water in the world, quenching his thirst.

He gently lift you up and sat you on the railing, holding you in place so you wouldn’t fall off. He continued to deepen the kiss, ignoring the multitudes of fireworks going on in the background. You moaned in pure content. It was truly a scene straight out of a romance novel.

When you finally broke the kiss, needing to breath. Seungcheol was blessed with the sight of your face, decorated by colours from the fireworks.

“We should head back down.” You whispered. Your boyfriend not listening, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Cheol, everybody will be looking for us.” You whined in between kisses.

“They’ll understand.” Seungcheol was unrelenting. “They know how much I love you.”

a/n2: they did not end up communicating, as you can tell. but they will, if I write the epilogue and that's a very big IF

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lowgothree · 2 months

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007. ༺ASUNDER༻∘

a/n: okay no one yell at me for this chapter...

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is kinda going through it, lmao. paige is still stupid. kinda angsty.

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

what’s more uncomfortable than waking up to a cold bed? especially when it was warm before you fell asleep?

…no, seriously. what?

you pull yourself out of bed, groaning and feeling stupid. you fell asleep on her and she left. slipping on your house shoes, you shuffle out of your room. you walk past paige’s room, doors open and it’s empty.

holy shit, were you snoring or something?

you grab your phone, noticing the time. it’s early. paige doesn’t wake up early on weekends if she doesn’t have to. she especially doesn’t leave the house early on a weekend if she doesn’t have to.

you walk into the living, looking for any signs of paige in the quiet of your shared apartment. there are none.

maybe you kick in your sleep.

you don’t have to let your mind wander for too long before she’s waltzing in through the door, guilt ridden. she doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel it — that abhorrent feeling that crawls underneath your skin, you can barely stomach it. it’s over.

she meets you halfway and calls you by your name. your name. it makes your palms sweat. she hasn’t said your name since that night on the couch. but she says it now almost like it’s a mutual secret, it’s filled to the brim with shame. she says it again and the sentence that follows it is torturess.

“olivia texted me.”

immediately your whole mood switches. like going from hot to cold. you feel it all over and it’s all consuming. those three words are playing over and over and over again in your head. olivia. texted. me.

“i need closure. i hate how we left things.”

she’s apologetic and it makes you sick. she speaks carefully, as though she’s softly shutting the door on an active massacre. you can’t help but roll your eyes. maybe you should’ve expected this. okay, you definitely should’ve expected this…but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

somehow, you wish she wasn’t looking at you so guilty. it would make it easier to stomach if she didn’t feel anything for you at all. but she does. you know she does. you can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, you can feel it on her palms when they touch you, you can hear it in her voice when she calls you baby. she just won’t admit it. and that hurts way worse. you were enough for her to care for but not enough for it to matter.

so what was the point in arguing or faking content? you’d like to think she knew you well enough to catch you in your lie anyway. so you don’t. you acquiesce.

“good for you.” is all you say before turning on your heels and walking back to your bedroom.

you can hear her, hot on your tail as she lets herself into your bedroom. she steps into your space like she owned it all and that only frustrated you more.

“good for me?” she scoffs, it’s disbelieving and angry. she’s angry at you? you can only marvel at the audacity and it fuels your own distaste even more –– what once was smoke of annoyance is now a blazing fire of anger. “that’s it?”

“what do you want from me? do you want me to cry?”

she flinches at the harshness in your tone but stands her ground despite herself. “i don’t know i just expected you to be more — ” heartbroken. “understanding.”

“how much more understanding could i be? it’s not like we were together or anything, you don’t need my permission to run back to her.” the words are uncomfortable on your tongue and it almost chokes you to speak them.

“i’m not running.”

you just stare at her, trying hard to force yourself not to care about the fact that this is really over. you knew the day would come but you weren’t ready. you aren’t ready.

“just get out of my room, paige.”

and she does with a silent nod of acknowledgment. it kills you again and your eulogy is seconds long, it is the sound of your bedroom door closing.

it’s hard to ignore someone you live with. desperately humbling. you learn their schedule just so you know when you’re free to make yourself a sandwich. the living has become somewhat of an abandoned space as you and paige seem to avoid each other like some sort of disease.

sean, always caring, saw how quickly you were shutting down. you claimed you were only trying to process your emotions but he knew you better than that.

“yeah, no…you’re not doing this.” sean pulled you out of bed before you could start rotting there. “come on, we’re going out. we can get food, see a movie…whatever but i’m not letting you sit here depressed.”

and he didn’t, you’ve been spending practically everyday with sean for the past two weeks.

“you’re just going through the stages of grief right now.” he mumbles at you when you’re crying because you miss her. because you fell for her, hard and fast. because she left you before you had a way to land safely.

“she didn’t die.” you sniffle and it makes sean laugh.

“you’re annoying, you know what i mean.”

and that made you smile, albeit small, but there. you wiped your tears and looked at sean, speaking in an almost defeated tone. “i think i really love her…” is all you say and it’s all you need to say. the two of you sitting in silence for a while before sean starts to take your mind of things.

like going to a concert, which was sean’s suggestion. “yeah my roommate and his boyfriend were gonna go but they’re both sick as shit so he just gave me the tickets…”

“no way…”

“yes way…” you can’t contain your excitement as you hug your friend and he shares your smile.

later that night you and sean go to the concert. by the time it’s over, your voice is sore from singing all night.

“i know this is super shitty but i’m so happy my roommate is sick.” sean sighs happily as both walk out of the building and head to the parking lot.

“seriously.” you smile. “we have to go to another concert soon.”

“don’t worry, i’ll cough on all my roommates things. he’s got a weak immune system.”

“gross, sean.” you laugh anyway before you feel someone bump into you, the collision strong and sudden so much so that it almost knocks you off your feet.

“shit –– sorry.”

you freeze, the voice is familiar. you turn around to confirm your suspicion and sure enough. “ellie?”

“oh hey…” she smiles shyly at you. “it’s been a minute.”

“yeah…” you chuckle lightly, noticing the way she eyes you up and down. “how have you been?”

“no, yeah…i’ve been good.” her voice is low and raspy, just like it used to be. “i, um, i got that car i wanted so…”

“wow…new car and a concert? where’d you get the money for that?” you tease, remembering how terrible of a saver ellie was.

“dude, i actually saved for it.” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“are you sure you’re ellie?”

“seriously, i mean…it was hard but i did it and it paid off.”

you smile. “well, i’m proud.”

“thank you, thank you.” she puts a had to her chest, the sounds of cars driving and people talking and laughing fill the night air as she stands in silence for a while. just staring at you. she looks in your eyes then at your lips then she meets your eyes again. no fucking way she just did the triangle method.

you give sean a look and his eyes widen. “hey, it’s cold as shit. i’m gonna go to the car, just let me know when yall are done and i’ll swing back for you.”

you go to nod but ellie speaks before you can. “no, worries, dude. i’ll get her home safe.”

sean looks at ellie and then back at you. you open up your mouth to speak, to say that it’s fine and ellie doesn’t have to take you home but sean stops you. “yeah, that’s a good idea. just text me?” he winks at you.

your jaw drops slightly as sean walks away. ellie smiles at you and you smile back shyly. “you know…i’ve been thinking about us.”

us? as in you and her? your mouth opens and shuts before you clear your throat and reply. “have you?”

“yeah…” she makes her voice slightly deeper, she’s flirting. “let me take you home…”

you pause, home? where paige is? no thank you…

“i, uh…i’m kinda arguing with my roommate right now.” you sigh, a half truth. “i’ve been staying with sean.”

“no shit, that sucks…” she bites her lip, shifting awkwardly on her feet before she clears her throat. “you can stay with me tonight.”

it’s an invitation. oh, okay. your thoughts of paige not fully subsiding but they’re muted. you know sean hasn’t left yet, he’ll be waiting to see if you text him to swing back for you. you could deny her. you should deny her. but you hesitate. maybe it’s because you missed the attention or maybe you were just tired of feeling so stuck on someone who didn’t care enough for you. maybe part of you wanted to get over paige and felt like this was the only way.

so you don’t deny the offer. you accept with a warm smile. “yeah, i’d like that…”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader

173 notes · View notes

jiminjamms · 3 months

Text

sex therapy :: 26. together

chapter tags/warnings: a very broken marriage. heavy angst. at least i am not gege. mai and maki and megumi as an iconic trio. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. corruption.

word count: 4.8k

notes: thank you for the overwhelming reception from the last chapter! work has been consuming my life, sadly, which is why this chapter took longer than i anticipated. gr. in this upcoming piece, though, my main focuses are the character development in y/n as well as explanations from toji himself. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

A large, warm hand massaged the delicate stretch between your thumb and forefinger.

Gently. Leisurely. Daintily.

Vanilla and cinnamon notes entered your lungs with every inhale, a velvetiness akin to everything you imagined clouds to be like if brushing against your cheek, the comforting sensations bringing back nostalgic memories from the carefree times your heart longed to return to.

Was this Heaven? you wondered in this dark and dreamy daze.

You would not mind staying in this state eternally if that meant the promise of peace and quiet forever.

A voice, not from yourself, dispersed your thoughts.

“Suguru, what are the chances she won’t ever wake up?”

Wake up?

Oh, so you were just asleep.

“Shut up, Sukuna,” another person quipped, this tone more leveled and coarser than the last. “Don’t say shit like that.”

The first person, who must be Sukuna then, chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh, who would’ve thought? Choso is having a soft spot?” he marveled with great interest, “Since when did you care so much about—”

But a third voice interrupted the banter. “She’s awake.”

After a long struggle, your eyes fluttered open to see a crowd gathered around you. Immediately beside you was Suguru Geto. He had been the one nestling your hand, but he practically didn’t look like himself with the concern etched into his brow, replacing the cheerfulness in his typical visage. Behind him stood Sukuna and Choso. The former grinned with fierce satisfaction, while the latter…scowled at you?

To be fair, Choso always scowled at you.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” Geto greeted with a melancholic smile, giving you another squeeze, firm and encouraging. Like a true gentleman, he helped you sit upright, his other hand reaching over your head to brush aside some stray strands by your forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Exhaustion, meanwhile, rattled you to the bone.

You were weak, your movements fragile, almost like you were a fawn in her first hours of life. You blinked rapidly while taking in the new environment, only to quickly recognize the gray and cream colors in your surroundings. Back at Toji’s apartment was where you found yourself, with the familiar spiced floral scents from the flickering candle nearby confirming that this was the master bedroom.

Given the dull throb by your temples, you frowned.

“What—?” your voice came out as a hoarse rasp. “What happened?”

The trio traded looks at each other with communicative eyes.

In the end, Choso tucked his hands into his front pocket and took the initiative to speak.

“You were in the Zenin residence with Mai and Maki, remember?” No, not really.“Got into an argument with your husband. Started having a panic attack. Collapsed. Puked.”

Oh…

Recollections from your last conscious moments flooded your head like a tsunami: the screaming, the crying, and the fighting. Loud, angry, bitter fighting.

Fighting for your dignity. Fighting for your heart. Fighting for your life. Goodness gracious. As much as the memories sucked all life from you, you instead felt completely…numb.

After all, you had already been dead on the inside. You were too worn out, both physically and emotionally, to react. Everything that you had to go through since your wedding had brought you to your wit’s end, and this recent altercation with Naoya Zenin was truly the icing on the cake.

When you caught sight of yourself in a nearby mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. Your expression, glum. Your lips, chafed, Your face, pallor. Absent of any other color than an ashen hue.

“How…did I get here?”

“Mai and Maki got worried and called Toji, who told them to bring you here,” Sukuna answered this time. “You’re lucky the girls reacted fast, else we would have sent you to an emergency room. Suguru even stopped his shift at his clinic to watch over you.”

“I—,” you sighed, lost for words and dropping your tired gaze to the floor. Dealing with inner turmoil to this degree was more than what any sane person could handle. All efforts towards your happiness were in vain anyway, as the cosmos conspired to make your existence one neverending nightmare. Everyone else had their ambitions and shit to deal with, but here you were as an absolute nuisance to the people who should not be otherwise pestered, and you were ashamed for the unnecessary trouble that you had caused. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”

“We are so sorry!”

Unexpectedly, the apology came from a girl’s voice, and you had to turn around to see three familiar teenagers by the bedroom door.

Just last week, you would never have imagined ever seeing Mai, Maki, and Megumi together. Yet, here you were, watching the twins and their—technically speaking—nephew (cute) standing side-by-side, twiddling their thumbs in their nervous corner (also cute).

Flustered and prepared for admonishment, Mai bowed her head at a slight angle as she hurriedly explained, “We don’t…We don’t mean to put you in an awkward position. We just didn’t know what to do. Maki and I were worried when you fell to the floor and started throwing up. We…We should’ve asked for your permission on who to call for help. But we didn’t know who else to phone, so we ended up dialing Toji. Now, we’ve put you in a weird spot and that is all our fault—”

“Do not apologize. That was the right thing to do.” The comment came from yet another person, and when Sukuna and Choso stepped to the side, who you saw at the room’s furthest end was none other than Toji Fushiguro himself.

He had taken a seat all the way by the wall, with one leg thrust over the other in a relaxed but kingly sort of manner. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms bled to his wrists with ink, and the emeralds in his sharp gaze gleamed as he stared pointedly in your direction.

Of everyone in the room, his countenance appeared the most composed, but you could feelhim reading through the emotions present on your face. He inclined forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm.

When he noticed the slightest shift in your posture too, the tiny scar by his lips flexed along with a smile.

“So, you’ve figured me out, hm?”

Easily, you could sense all seven pairs of eyes in the room (the four therapists plus the three teens) landing on you. The sudden attention rendered you nervous. Even if you chose silence as your response, the entire room, the entire planet, and perhaps even the entire galaxy could speculate your answer through your expression alone.

After a long while, you breathed out, “You didn’t tell me that you were a Zenin.”

The elephant in the room had to be addressed obviously, and you were not shy to confront the situation head-on.

While you did not intend to sound accusatory, your tone came off as such anyway. How could you not, when you had essentially been misled for weeks? Sure, Toji probably did not want to be badmouthing the Zenins to the very person (you) who had been recently married into the family. But, by withholding the fact that he and your husband were cousins, Toji had created much unnecessary anguish including the current limbo that your marriage was in right now.

Meanwhile, that same man pressed his nails into his chin in contemplation.

“I am not a Zenin, though,” he eventually corrected in a domineering voice, all austere in his throne. “At least, not any longer. I took my first wife’s last name years ago. I go by Fushiguro now.” Curt, direct, and pithy. Toji wasted not a syllable. “Everything worked out though, I guess. Naobito cut me off from the Zenin clan earlier this year. Gave me ten billion yen and told me to get lost, so I did.”

Toji always kept his private matters to himself, but with everything that he had gone through, you were struck by his poise, as if being expelled from such an influential household had been a high-school breakup he had gotten over long ago.

Nonetheless, you wondered if he missed that other life, and you brought your knees toward your chest.

“So,” how should you put this, “you’re not upset?”

Toji scoffed immediately.

“Upset?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “Why would I be upset? That household is a trash dump. All my life, there were no choices for me to make when my uncles and granduncles decided everything already,” and he began counting with his fingers, “my teachers, my classes, my extracurriculars, my friends. Everything. I was only a puppet to bring honor to the family name, bring in money for the company.”

Listening to his sonorous voice, you rested your cheek onto a knee.

"I see."

His story was depressing, and from conversations with in-laws such as Mai and Maki, you knew that he was not lying, either. Coming from nobility as well, you were also aware of the pressures that came with the people who boasted their 'old-money' statuses, but the Zenin household had always been notorious for being miserable.

Toji had said so before in a prior discussion, how ‘family isn’t family for something like the Zenins’ because both politics and business took precedence.

Then, he went on.

“Some people would kill to have my problems, but I did not want that life, you know? Around the time I started college, I decided that I wanted to make judgments for myself and be my own distinct entity, but that made people upset. Privileged. Entitled. Ungrateful. Whatever. My family members called me many things as a young adult when they figured I did not want to be their pawn for my whole life, with the only person who understood me for many years being my best friend in university.”

Megumi’s mom.

Toji nearly appeared to be an altogether different person whenever he spoke about his first wife. The chartreuse in his eyes would stir with both sorrow and fond reminiscence as he thought about the Mrs. Fushiguro you would never get to meet, his closest confidant whom he lost to the cruel separation brought by life versus death. She must have been someone whom he valued a lot—a person who completely transformed him—as Toji had discarded his last name (which was Zenin, of all things) for hers.

‘He truly loved my mom,’ Megumi explained before. 'He had given up everything.’

Thus, fate could truly be unfair.

The loss and pain Toji must have endured, a topic Megumi had alluded to in his discussion with you before.

Not to mention, the expectations, frustration, and suffocation that came from the clan's elders, too. Experiencing the intense atmosphere in the Zenin household firsthand allowed you to empathize with him. Given the stark differences between him and your lawful husband, there was no wonder Toji did not wish to deal with his older relatives' high-strung conventions.

But, if he had been suffering so much…

“Why did you care so much for what your family thought?” you asked, disregarding the look that the three teenagers by the door exchanged with each other. “Toji, you went to university in the United States. You had a wife and son at a young age. You went from a business background to a licensed therapist, so why did you not—”

“Leaving is difficult when you’re the family heir and the corporation’s CEO.”

The expression that you then returned was blank.

Huh?

His words triggered something in your head, so you repeated after him.

“Leaving is difficult when,” and your voice trailed off, “when…you…are the heir and CEO.”

Heir. CEO.

Zenin.

Toji.

Naoya.

But Toji’s older.

‘Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.’

Sheer realization slapped you hard across your face. No way.

“Toji,” you began after letting the revelation sink into you a while later, but your voice barely eeked above a mumble, “so you were once the successor to the Zenin household and company?"

The man in question did not respond, but the silent affirmation from the six other onlookers was an answer in itself.

Yes.

In hindsight, you wanted to say you had always seen the possibility. Still, you never fully registered this until now: the thoughtfulness in his strategy, the sophistication in his speech, the charisma in his leadership.

Previously, Toji had impressed you with how much he knew about the Zenin Corporation’s market share in the Asia-Pacific or the firm’s outsized influence on the international stage. Yet, most (including yourself) would not guess that someone like Toji Fushiguro—your tattooed and brawny sex therapist (plus single dad)—had once been heralded as the indisputable inheritor to the proud lineage and conglomerate.

That had been your mistake.

Toji was more than what people made him out to be, which reminded you to never assume anything superficially about someone—a remark he had once made. For good reason, because he had been referring to himself all along.

You could almost visualize Toji Fushiguro as the seasoned executive he had once been in light of this new information: his black strands slicked into a side part, his charcoal blazer freshly pressed, his leather oxfords newly polished.

Maybe because he was more mature or maybe because he was simply older, but Toji appeared more fitting for the important roles in the Zenin household compared to the man presently poised for succession.

Consequently, you must also ask, “Then, how did Naoya end up in your seat?”

Sukuna and Megumi shared a glance.

Choso grimaced, and Suguru kissed his teeth.

Meanwhile, Toji ran a lone finger down his jaw, following the lines from a tattoo.

“Let me give you some context, sweetheart,” he offered, now brushing his chin as he spoke. “For the last—let’s say—few hundred years, the oldest male in each generation became the leader in the Zenin clan. Is the rule stupid? Yes. Should there be more criteria in evaluating a potential heir aside from birth order? Also yes. But nothing has stopped this before because the Zenins, as you know by now, are a family built on antiquity and tradition. So, when I was born as the oldest male in my generation and Naoya had come in second place...”

Toji did not have to finish his sentence for you to figure out the rest.

Despite the demands that came along with being the next family head, Toji must have been esteemed as nothing short of a crown price among the Japanese elite, with seniors in the Zenin household utilizing all their resources to prepare the once young and starry-eyed boy for taking over such an influential role. Naturally, his enviable position would spark jealousy, even from those whom Toji deemed related to by birth.

Including his very own younger first cousin.

Toji frowned in exasperation.

“Your husband is one childish and jealous brat, but Naoya Zenin has been like that for as long as I have known him. To claim the heir and CEO titles, he acquired the trust from myself and my colleagues by working with us in sex therapy, only to stab us all in the back. He’s a liar. A total manipulator.”

And, from personal experiences, you knew that those words could not be more true.

At this point, Toji sank his handsome face into his immense palm.

“Well, now Naoya Zenin has everything he wants but is still an incompetent asshole. The whole enterprise is hanging by a thread. The entire clan cannot fucking stand him. What’s crazy is that his father Naobito is not doing anything about this, and I cannot tell if that is because the old man is giving his son free passes or because he has finally gotten senile. With Naoya's pettiness, though, the father-son duo have done everything to erase my name from the family, even going as far as to dismiss the executives that I brought onto the management team to undo my legacy.”

When Toji glanced up to cast his gaze forward, you then suddenly understood that the three other men in the room were more than just his fellow board-licensed colleagues.

You recalled Toji’s words in the Teyvat meeting room.

‘I recruited these guys right when they completed their undergraduate degrees, around the time I just opened my therapy office,’ and the puzzle pieces clicked into place from the realization that sex therapy had not been the only thing that Toji had worked with them on—Sukuna, Choso, and Suguru had been executives at the Zenin Corporation reporting to Toji, too. ‘We’ve been working together since, for the past four years.’

Discerning these revelations from your expressions, Toji added in confirmation.

“I had selected these three to oversee the Zenin Corporation’s operations with me,” he said, and you remembered the same conversation in which the men discussed their University of Tokyo studies while Toji listed their previous roles. Sukuna, Economics. “Sukuna, Director of Investments and Real Estate.” Choso, Mechanical Engineering. “Choso, Chief Engineer and Supply Chain Manager.” Suguru, Biology. “Suguru, Healthcare and Innovation Administrator.”

Arguably the most consequential divisions in a conglomerate that spanned numerous sectors, with each department bringing in yen by the billions every year.

‘These guys have treated me like family more than my blood-related kin have.’

Learning this about the four therapists added to your fascination.

For you, the discovery was like uncovering a hidden treasure trove. To imagine everything that the four—as one cohesive unit—had gone through together at the top of the corporate ladder: scrutiny from the media and stakeholders, impromptu meetings that demanded make-or-break decisions, and immediate responses to industry trends and regulations.

Only for them to be cast aside by no one other than your husband.

In the end, this all made sense.

Now, you understood why the therapists were once incredibly demeaning and belligerent toward you. How could they possibly sympathize with the woman married to the man who had taken virtually everything from them?

Heck, if you were in their shoes and had no further context, you would hate yourself, too.

Only now were you hearing their perspectives, and you were grateful that—compared to several weeks before—they trusted you enough to open up.

At last, all you could do was sigh and mutter, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Sukuna shot back without hesitation, which stunned you given how he had been the one who mocked you the most. Yet, a scintilla of kindness flared in his fiery eyes, so you continued with your tone softer and quieter.

“I feel terrible.” Such vulnerability in front of so many people at once went beyond your comfort zone. “For the unfairness Naoya had brought upon you all, and how I…I can’t change anything. I can’t do anything. All I am is…useless.”

“No, you are powerful,” Suguru interjected this time. “Your husband relies on your public image to keep scrutiny off him. He needs you. He’s been demoralizing you for months because he knows the ball will always be in your court, and never his.”

His words made you stop.

“You truly think so?” you asked.

“Yes.”

Choso, who replied, seemed honest.

He was honest.

He might throw you off from how aloof and stoic his attractive face would appear, but Choso was not a liar.

Bringing your feet off the bed, you slowly swung your feet.

“I…am surprised you all even want to talk to me.”

Toji tugged at his dress shirt’s collar and flashed his ink-covered muscles underneath. “What makes you think that?”

His pointed question made you realize how much Naoya had been fucking with your mind, blaming and villainizing you at every chance, thus devolving you into a spineless worm feeling remorse for every little thing.

Shrugging, you tossed your gaze to the side.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You could have avenged yourself by now. I am Naoya’s wife and Naobito’s daughter-in-law. There had been a thousand chances for you to do something horrible to me: to hurt me, blackmail me, spread dirty rumors about me, but…you haven’t.”

“Why would I do that?” Toji replied instantly and candidly. Rather than appearing offended by your judgments, he started giving you that look again whenever he had his therapist hat on—the one where he would tilt his head at a slight angle to gauge the sentiments painted across your face. “I could have chosen to be bitter and vengeful for the rest of my life, but I am grateful for what I have. Why let a toxic bunch impact my life? I already told you how that household is an absolute fucking hell. I'm glad I have found an out. At the very least, my son would not have to deal with the crap from my young adult years because you know who is the oldest male in the generation after mine?”

Megumi.

All gazes now fell upon the younger Fushiguro, who tried to casually shrug the attention off.

Who cares if I was second-in-line to leading perhaps the most prestigious family in Japan? his nonchalance wanted to convey, but his ears turned pink anyway.

Toji continued, “Then, of course, there are some people whom I care about a lot.” Using his head, he gestured to the twins. “These girls are the best aunts to my son that I, as a father, could ever ask for. They’re only one year older than Megumi, but Mai and Maki used to go on playdates with him on the weekends, walk him to school every morning, and cook him breakfasts over the holidays. The twins even helped my son take his first steps. There is this one photo we have in the library—I don’t know if you have gotten a chance before to see it. But there’s Mai and Maki, each holding one of Megumi’s little hands back in his chubby toddler days and—”

“Dad!” a very flustered and irritated teenage boy finally had to say. “This is not the time to talk about that picture!”

Next to him, a proud Mai and Maki coo and tease their grouchy nephew, poking at his puffed-up cheeks and ruffling his uncombed hair.

“Aw, is someone a little embarrassed?”

Smiling at the little banter from the trio, Toji did not let them distract him from his conversation with you. “What I’m trying to get at is…life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it,” but his eyes glazed with rue nevertheless, “Now is the perfect time to focus on your well-being. Take a look around this room. A lot of people want to see you leading a fulfilling life, Y/N. A fulfilling life for yourself, not for anyone else. Not for me, not for anyone in this room, and certainly not for your husband. Nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—should hold you back from pursuing your health and happiness.”

While you assumed that your best times were over, Toji reminded you those good days can be brought back with the right attitude. He had a point. Why should you allow your marriage to hinder you from connecting with people whom you care about, working towards the passions that brought you purpose, and feeling the love that you deserve?

Instead, you should seek every sunrise and sunset as an opportunity to live better and without regrets.

As you ruminated on this different mindset, a sudden knock from the door cut your thoughts short.

Who…

Like you, most others looked around blankly, but Toji ordered from his seat, “Let him in.”

Mai, who stood closest to the entryway, obeyed.

Once she unlocked the door, the room fell silent save for the footsteps of the man walking in, his soles creating soft echoes on the linoleum floor. Overhead, pale lights revealed the lines etched on his exhausted face, the worry that sat heavily on his chest.

“Mister Daisuke,” someone eventually acknowledged out of respect.

Your father did not hear the greeting as he searched the room, his sullen gaze darting from face to face until he found you. His shoulders fell from his overwhelming relief. Still in a suit after a long workday, he stumbled forward feebly.

“You’re alright,” he whispered between steps, scarcely audible.

He crouched toward the floor once he approached you, and when Suguru transferred your hands into your father’s, you noticed the unstoppable quiver from the latter even as you gripped him tightly in an attempt to stop the tremor.

His skin was tough, weathered by his additional decades in life. But, in his palms, you found the familiar tenderness that had comforted you since you were a little girl and, in his gaze, you noticed the sadness only found in the despair of a heartbroken parent.

“Thank goodness, you are okay,” and before everyone, tears slipped past his eyes, “I was terrified. I was so scared. When Toji called to tell me you had thrown up and collapsed, do you know how afraid I was?”

You glanced over at the said therapist, reminding yourself that—if Toji had been the CEO before Naoya—he must have worked very closely with your COO father up until recently. For your father to know exactly where you were and walk in with this expression suggested that the former colleagues had had a lengthy conversation about your circumstances. A part of you wanted to be angry. Why drag your father into this worry? But a larger part of you had always wanted to reveal to him the wretched months that had gone by and longed for his support.

And now, he was here.

The older man took a shuddering breath and brought his fingers to your cheek, holding and cradling you like he would never get to do this again.

“I can’t lose you,” he lamented. “I have lost enough in my life already. I cannot lose you, too. I just can’t. Why have you not told me the truth? If you were not happy with Naoya, why have you not told me sooner? Did you think I would place my loyalty to the company over my own child? I feel so guilty and broken to hear about what you have been going through.”

Frankly, you felt just as broken, too.

In fact, seeing and hearing your father weep like this shattered you. As devoted as your father was, his front never failed to be unwavering and strong. Even when your mother’s death left a significant hole in his heart, he bit back his grief. Scars from your mother’s untimely death scarred his heart, wounds that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath, but he rarely expressed his suppressed sorrow.

All for your sake. Because you were his one and only daughter, his one and only child.

So now, for him to see you in such a sorry state was crushing his whole world that had become you.

“Dad.” You helped him wipe his tears away, just like how he had always done for you. “I didn’t want to make you disappointed. I didn’t want to make you sad. I…I just wanted to protect you.”

“No,” he responded firmly. How could a loving father accept the possibility that his daughter would even think about placing him before herself? “Protect yourself first.”

You looked up when you sensed two more approaching individuals and found Mai and Maki with doleful smiles.

“We still have something to return to you, Y/N.”

In your left palm, each girl pressed one ring—the first which promised a future forever and the second which symbolized an infinite unity.

You stared at the jewelry as your chest remembered the waves of happiness, excitement, hope, confusion, betrayal, and pain.

So, so much pain.

Your father, who would not miss the solemn undertones in your gaze, squeezed your hands in his.

“My dear daughter,” he started, and you could tell he could no longer bear to see you suffer any longer, “what are you planning to do?”

Your throat turned dry.

Any possibility seemed like a viable solution, a means for a desperate escape.

For months, you should have prepared yourself for this very question, but now that you were confronted with this reality for the first time, you did not know what to say.

You had clutched onto the false hope for your troubled marriage to be sorted out. Escaping your dreary matrimony had once been too far-fetched of an option given an impending cold war between your families, which you would never wish upon the stars to happen. Therefore, even as you found yourself stuck on a stifling dead end, you did not exactly prepare for the next steps for the occasion you found Naoya Zenin’s mistreatment too much to bear.

However, times have changed.

Your allies and enemies have changed.

Most of all, you have changed.

Therefore, with all the universe’s possibilities at your fingertips, one particular option stuck out.

“I’m going to file for a divorce.”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: So many things. To see us freak out at the idea of a divorce during the beginning of the fic, up to now, where we suggested the option out of our volution. Also, the much-needed heart-to-heart conversation between Toji and us, and how that really shows a slow maturation in our relationship with him (and everyone else)! Let me know what you think, and see you next chapter!

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 months

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~ As Sweet As Sugar | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, the in-laws (again), talks of marriage, mentions of divorce, business talks, mentions of large inheritance, love confessions, sweet Kook, enamoured Kook, this is a pretty soft chapter tbh, Jimin and Namjoon feature in a scene (we love these two), implied smut at the end, OC is wiped by JK, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Jungkook makes a decision that would change his life forever but he can't regret it when he know he'll have you in the end. Promises are made, love gets sealed, because a caramel isn't always as sour as it seems.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hello, darlings! Welcome to the final chapter of "Sweet Marriage"! I hope you are excited to see how (y/n) and Jungkook will solve their marital issues O.O

Drabbles for this AU! are open, sweet ones! My inbox is open to all of you who'd like to request a continuation or would like to see in-betweens of this story. Now, without further adieu, happy reading, darlings!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

What kind of caramel has a sour exterior yet a sweet centre? Is it worth the experience?

You sat in the passenger's seat while Jungkook drove to his parent's house. You were tense, he could sense it as well. From the begining you had tried to get along with your in-laws, something he thought was going pretty smoothly to be honest until Jungkook's mother crossed the line.

A silent gasp left your lips when Jungkook's hand rested atop your own. You looked at him only to marvel in his side profile.

"You are tense."

Your gaze lowered at his acknowledgement, you didn't want to speak just how much it bothered you had to go to his parent's residence in fear of making him angry or worse, to see you in a bad light you certainly weren't in.

His hand squeezed yours and you looked up at him only to meet his dark eyes for a second before his gaze returned to the front.

"I promise this is the last time we are going to my parent's house. I just need to sign some documents."

You leaned back on your seat, your eyes focused on the road as you let your mind wander around what had happened five days ago. You felt stupid to some point for doing Mrs. Jeon's will without consulting your husband. Not that you needed some kind of permission from him to do anything you pleased but more so as to include him in a decision that was going to affect the both of you as a married couple.

"I know, Kook."

You replied back in a soft voice, mind already lost in memories from that day and the following day you had lived next to your husband. The next morning after you told him your secret, Jungkook wasn't by your side and you felt how the world fell over you.

Fear took hold of you that moment, you could still remember how scared your had been when he wasn't in the bed, his side was also cold to the touch. You remember standing up in a rush, nearly tripping down with the sheets tangled in your body before you bolted out of the bedroom.

Jungkook was in the living room, his eyes lost in the horizon as the sun was painting the sky in beautiful hues of orange, pink and blue. He turned to look at you, his heart trembling at the distress drowning your (e/c) pools before he stood up and was quick to approach you.

You were in his arms the next second. Your face buried in his chest as you blinked back tears you didn't know had gathered in your waterline. Jungkook didn't say anything, he simply held you tighter when he felt you relax in his hold.

"You weren't in bed."

You said, matter-of-factly and he sighed, resting his chin at the top of your head.

"I woke up early, I didn't get much sleep."

You took a deep breath, inhaling in his scent, taking in his presence.

"I thought you had left."

The sound of your voice so fragile pulled at his heartstrings that a lump began forming in his throat. He pulled back only for one of his hands to cradle your cheek in his large palm while his eyes gazed into your own with countless emotions.

"Never. I could never leave your side."

You blinked and the memory dissipated from your mind like fog when the sun came out. You sighed, silently playing with Jungkook's fingers that were still in your hold, completely unaware of his soft smile upon your gentle touch.

"We are here."

His deep voice snapped you out of your little paradise where only you and your husband existed. He turned to look at you with gentle eyes that nearly melted you in your place. He smiled as if to comfort you; which it did.

"This won't take long, I promise."

You nodded before his hand left your own as he exited the car, making a sudden coldness invaded your body. You couldn't fully describe it but it felt as if your heart was enveloped around ice when you weren't near Jungkook, however the slightest touch or simple glance from him were enough to set you aflame.

He opened the door for you and you stepped out of the vehicle. His hand found home in between your fingers as he led you silently toward the front door.

"Young master, welcome."

Spoke the maid at the entrance. She bowed at Jungkook and you with stiff movements that made you take a deep breath. This is it. You thought to yourself as Jungkook gave the maid a simple nod before asking in his professional voice. He was here to deal business, nothing more, nothing less.

"Is my father in his study?"

"Yes, young master. He's waiting for you. Mrs. Jeon, would you like me to take your coat?"

You turned to look at the elegant maid with kind eyes yet your voice came firm as you spoke your next words.

"It's alright. We won't be here long anyway, but thank you."

The maid bowed down to both of you as Jungkook led you through the house and up the large staircase toward his father's study. His steps were determined, strong and confident. You followed next to him, your hand still clasped in his.

Jungkook had you as his equal in this situation were his future was on the line while you had him as support to the thorns that wanted to hurt your marriage with your sweet husband whom you loved so very much you feared your heart would explode with the amount of love you held for the man walking next to you.

The double doors were opened by two maids and you and Jungkook entered your father-in-law's studio hand in hand. Tension immediately rose in the room. You practically could cut it with a knife. Mr. Jeon stood up from his chair, a shiver ran down your spine but if it was due to the chilly room or the coldness of his eyes, you couldn't exactly tell.

"Welcome. This will be short, I only need you, Jungkook, to sign some papers and then this scandalous situation will be over."

You felt Jungkook's hand tighten around yours, his father's words spurring emotions in his heart he rather kept hidden. You squeezed his hand back in silent reassurance which made him physically relax a bit yet not completely.

"Where do I sign?"

Asked your husband in a detached voice. He was here for an entirely business deal. No emotion was carried by his voice and the tension rose once more in the room, like icicles trying to break the peace that surrounded your marriage with Jungkook.

Mr. Jeon sighed before his eyes lowered, his hands opened a file only for then to turn it upside down so that Jungkook was able to read it properly, he put an expensive black pen next to it and the coldness once more invaded the place.

Your husband let go of your hand as he walked toward the mahogany desk. His steps were large and precise, without hesitation. You found yourself admiring the control he had over his emotions, of his actions. Of how people viewed him. Even when he was in the presence of his own parents.

How sad it must have been for him to wear that mask required by society in front of his parents as well. It must have been tiring. The thought crossed your head before you could stop however, you came to notice how relaxed he was in his home with you. How domestic he appeared in your eyes. Then again, who said you weren't also wearing such a disguise?

You made eye contact with your father-in-law as the shuffling of paper echoed around the walls. You could read in his dark eyes the challenge he carried within him, the arrogance. The slight disappointment he had in Jungkook when he didn't divorce you. The frustration cursing through his veins was obvious to your eyes that only held love and support toward the man who had married you.

"So, according to this, I will no longer be the heir of the company?"

His father nodded, his hands clasped in front of him before he spoke in a monotonous tone.

"Yes, Jeon Enterprises will pass to your Cousin Marlene, I believe she is now in the States. She's already been notified of this."

Silence stretched in the room once more as your eyes focused on your husband. Your heart thumped in your chest ever so quickly you were scared the two men in the study could hear its frantic beating.

"You'll keep your current position but you'll work for us. Are you sure you want to do this, Jungkook?"

But your husband paid him no mind. He wasn't going to be controlled like a puppet. Not anymore. Not when his future, you, were on the line. Never. Jungkook signed the documents, the scraping of the pen over the paper reached your ears and your heart fluttered at his actions.

Jungkook put the pen aside and straightened back to his full height. His eyes pierced those of his father with no emotion at all.

"If that is all then we'll be on our way. My wife and I already have plans."

The older man let out a deep sigh, looking at his son with melancholy or disappointment, you really couldn't tell. Butterflies flew in your stomach when Jungkook called you like that. "My wife." His. You were his just as he was yours. Tangled with the ribbon of fate and tied with a knot of love.

"I'll let you know if there's anything more but for now, that is all."

Jungkook nodded, turning around and when his back was towards his father, he offered you a soft smile. Kind in its nature. Happy in its existence. You smiled back as he walked to you and his hand found home around yours.

"Let's go."

And with that, he led you outside of the study and through the hallway. Mr. Jeon was left in his expensive and luxurious study, pondering if what he had done had been the right decision. It wasn't his fault Jungkook had fallen in love with you and it wasn't your fault that you were sterile. Was it really worth it to discard the company from his son's rightful heritage only for a drama his wife made?

But there was no turning back. There was nothing to be done if he were to feel guilty about his choice. Because as the owner of Jeon Enterprises, Jungkook's father had in him the power to leave the company to whoever he pleased. Was it really worth it?

"Jungkook."

Mrs. Jeon spoke as she stood next to the large staircase. Her piercing eyes went from Jungkook to you and back to him. You squeezed your husband's hand in reassurance. You were next to him, just like every future time he'll have to face anything, you'll stand next to him as his wife.

"Mother."

You felt how the tension rose once more between mother and son and you straightened your back before saying in a steady voice.

"If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Jeon, there's an appointment we need to attend to. I hope we'll meet again under better circumstances."

She eyes you up and down and you feel how she scrutinised you with her gaze alone. But you weren't going to back down. You had your husband next to you and he had you as well. You sent her a polite smile and she nodded in a stiff manner before you turned to the staircase and pulled on your joined hands with Jungkook before he followed you down the marble stairs with his mother's eyes piercing the top of your head as if she could burn you with her anger cursing through her veins.

"You will regret this, Jungkook! You'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. Jungkook didn't need their fame, he didn't need their support anymore and there was no point in keeping a relationship with the people who brought him to this world if it was going to be so toxic he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

He had you know. Your presence, your existence was like a new and fresh breeze on a spring day. You brought him hope, you gave him your heart and with it, your love. Your trust. Your life was in his hands. Just as he had given you his heart ever so willingly; without an ounce of hesitation in his actions, in his words, in his thoughts about you. His lover. His wife. His (y/n).

You stood in the lift as it went up to your shared apartment. Your hand was held in Jungkook's larger palm as his thumb ran delicate circles over your knuckles.

You still were surprised at how easily he had given up on his inheritance because of you. Because he loved you. Because he wanted you. He cherished you and gave you your place as his wife. You didn't doubt you would have done the same had you been in his shoes.

The feeling of your heart thumping against your chest for the man you had married made you smile softly. At him. At his love. At what had been built between you both where nothing existed, not a castle stood. A castle of love.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Jungkook's hand squeezed yours in an involuntary way but it made your cheeks heat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. The both of you walked out of the lift hand in hand and down the large corridor that led to your shared apartment.

When you two rounded a corner, you had to suppress a gasp as you nearly collided with two other men who were walking at a fast pace from the other end of the corridor. You recognised them vaguely, as if you had seen them before but couldn't quite place where. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook tensed ever so slightly at the sight of his friends and coworkers.

"Jimin, Namjoon. What are you both doing here?"

Now you knew where you had seen them. Both Jimin and Namjoon had attended the small wedding ceremony between you and Jungkook nearly a year ago.

"I... well, you see-"

"We visited a friend, Kook. I'm glad to see you, you haven't been at the company for some time now."

The shorter one spoke. Jimin, you remembered his name was Jimin. The man had a pleasing smile over his plump lips and you also noticed he had recently dyed his hair a sandy shade of blond that suited him perfectly.

Jungkook nodded, eyes going from Namjoon to Jimin and then back again.

"How are you, Mrs. Jeon? We haven't seen you since forever."

Spoke Namjoon and you smiled. Reminiscing how you both had shared talks about different books and art, you being a writer yourself he valued your opinion greatly.

"I've been fine, Namjoon. Thanks for asking, I hope everything's going well at the company?"

Your question made them nod and Jungkook bit his lip, this interaction was lasting more than it should have. To begin with, it shouldn't have occurred in the first place. This could totally ruin Jungkook's plans to spend the evening with you.

"Oh, yes. Please don't worry about that but do tell Jungkook here to stop pestering us about the monthly reports already! We have a big loan already!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Jimin's comment, the sound resonating across the walls. Jungkook sighed loudly, visibly irritated by his friends who teased him in front of you.

"Yeah well, keep going like this and there'll be no salary increase for you both."

Jungkook began walking once more, tugging on your joined hands as you laughed out loud at the scared face Namjoon made and the eye roll from Jimin.

"See you guys around!"

You were able to say that before Jungkook dragged you into the apartment and closed the door behind him leaving Jimin and Namjoon standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Do you think he'll do it?"

Asked the taller man as they both began walking down the hall and towards the lifts. His hands shoved into his trouser pockets and a relaxed expression over his face.

"He better do it."

Jimin pressed the button to go to the ground floor, a hand running over his hair as he frowned slightly.

"He better do it, hyung, or I swear I'll kill him."

Namjoon laughed and the elevator's doors closed. Leaving behind nothing but silence in the empty hallway.

Jungkook had taken your coat from you before he had disappeared into the kitchen saying he was thirsty. You sighed in content as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on the entrance table before you walked away from the door wearing your comfortable slippers.

"Kook?"

You asked, but he wasn't in the kitchen and you frowned at his absence. Silence engulfed the flat and you walked to the living room and the dining room but he wasn't there.

"He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, now can he?!

You muttered to yourself as your feet carried you to your shared bedroom. The door was slightly ajar so you pushed it with your palm and gasped at what you saw inside.

"I thought it would take you longer to come here."

Jungkook said and you stepped forward, eyes roaming around the bedroom. The curtains were pulled to the sides, the mesmerising sunset painting the sky tinted the room in a soft orange hue it warmed your heart instantly.

There were red rose petals on the ground, and the bed was dressed in black sheets with white petals on it. Transparent balloons filled the ceiling as they floated up and you couldn't help the smile that graced your lips.

"Kook, what's this?"

He walked over to you, standing at arm's length as his eyes lost themselves in your own. His heart was beating wildly in his chest; he feared you could hear it. His hands were behind his back as he looked down at you.

"Jimin and Namjoon took longer than anticipated."

You laughed, so that was why Namjoon seemed so nervous at the beginning. The sound of your laughter made butterflies swirl in his stomach, the sight of you, bathed in the golden light of the sun, smiling up at him was enough to send him to heaven.

"(y/n),"

How delicious it was to hear your name coming out of his lips. You looked at him with a soft gaze he thought he'd melt right then and there.

"my beautiful wife."

You blushed at the compliment, breaking eye contact as you looked down in a futile attempt at hiding your flustered state. He chuckled, finding the situation so beautiful in its own existence. Wishing he could frame this precise moment and look at it forever.

His hands untangled themselves from behind his back, one was shoved into his trouser pocket while the other lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers. The moment your eyes met his once more, you felt like melting against him. It was perfect.

"I love you so much, sweet one. So, so much."

You swallowed, feeling his words through your heart as it skipped a beat.

"I love you as well, Jungkook. With all my heart."

He smiled. the bunny smile you loved so much. That smile that was the source of your happiness. That smile that was only his.

"We have faced so many things together."

His hand moved and cradled your cheek, the touch burning you while freezing you in your spot at the same time. You wanted him. In every sense of the word. He did things to you that you had never felt before. He made you feel loved like no-one else had done, he made you feel cherished, wanted, needed. And you could only hope he felt the same way. Because you loved him, you cherished him, you wanted him and needed him just as much.

"I wish we had met under different circumstances but that doesn't mean I am not grateful for what he has grown to be as a couple."

Your hand came up and covered the once that cradled your cheek, your hand over his sending tingles all over his arm and to his body he felt fuzzy, happy to just be with you. To just have you in this moment, exactly like this.

"I have grown to care for you like I have never cared for another woman in my life, (y/n). You are everything to me. Everything, sweetheart. I cannot imagine my life without you."

Your eyes began to water at the sweet words dripping from his lips. Coated in sugar, meant to wash away the sour taste left behind by life itself.

He sighed and took a step back, his hand left your cheek and you instantly felt cold at the loss of his touch. Jungkook looked at you with soft brown and big eyes before he knelt down on one knee. His right hand picked up a small box from his trouser's pocket and you nearly gasped when he opened it.

"We are already married and the promises I made to you on our wedding day are still fresh on my mind. I will fulfil them as my duty to you as a husband but this ring, love, this ring is a promise to you as your lover."

You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop it from trembling as a little tear rolled down your cheek at his words.

"I promise to love you until my last breath. I promise to cherish you as my wife. You will never need anything, your desires are my commands, (y/n). You rule my heart like a Queen rules her kingdom. Now, I ask you with all the sincerity in this world: will you love me as well?"

A sob escaped your lips before your hands went up to cover your mouth. You nodded fiercely as you tried to wipe your tears away. He smiled, standing up and taking the ring out of the small velvety box. His larger hand took your left one and he slid the ring on top of your wedding band. A seal to his love. The two rings even matched.

"Yes. A million times yes. I love you, Jungkook. I love you with all I have in me, with everything. Forever."

The next moment, his lips were on yours. Your hands rested on his shoulders as he cradled your face, his lips dancing with yours in the steps of love.

The kiss was sweet. As sweet as sugar. You poured all the love, all the longing, all the desire into that kiss while Jungkook let his emotions flow into that single act of love. He allowed you to feel how his heart beat for you, how his mind wouldn't stop thinking about you and how his hand itched to touch you.

Your hands ran to the back of his neck before they were running through his dark locks. A soft groan escaped his throat when you tugged on his hair slightly. You moaned as his hands slid down your cheek and towards your waist, pressing you against him.

Passion bloomed in that moment. Starting with a sweet kiss and ending with the promise of eternal love.

Jungkook guided you to the bed, the back of your knees hit the bed and he pushed you down on the mattress gently, hovering over you without breaking the kiss.

Perhaps sour caramels do have sweet centres after all.

As sweet as sugar. As sweet as love. As sweet as life.

Combined into a sweet marriage of eternal devotion and beautiful love.

~Masterpost

March/03/2024

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

Drabbles are open for this AU!

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sturnioloshacker · 6 months

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in labour - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended. i have no idea what it’s like to be pregnant or how labour works but i hope this is something along the lines of it!

summary: he may be stressed, but vinnie comforts you while you’re pushing out your little miracle

the air thickened with anticipation as nurses and midwifes surrounded you as the time came closer to pushing out your little miracle. vinnie stood by your side, tightly holding your hand as you cried in agony, the pain of the contractions suddenly getting all too much for you to handle. little beads of sweat lined vinnie’s forehead, the tense moment becoming real. with each push, your face contorted in pain and your lips contorted into all different shapes to scream and cry. vinnie was determined to be a pillar of strength, even though he himself is stressing out of his mind.

“you’re doing great, sweetheart. you’ve got this. i love you so much.”

“keep going, you’re so close. just a bit more and we’ll finally meet our sweet angel.”

you grabbed his hand even tighter as your breathing became ragged. vinnie fought the urge to look away, his own anxiety taking over. the beads of sweat slowly started falling down his forehead, the tension in the room getting heavier with every passing second. as the pushing became harder and more painful, vinnie took a deep breath and locked eyes with you, trying to channel all of his love and support.

“you’re doing so well, love. you’re so brave. i know it hurts but it will be over before you know it. i know that it’s also scary that we’re going to be with child soon but we’re in this together. We’ve got each other. i love you and i can’t wait to raise our little girl together.”

you managed a weak smile between pushes, finding peace in his words. the room echoed with the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, punctuated by her determined efforts. vinnie, though feeling the weight of the moment, kept his focus on her.

“you're almost there, just a few more pushes." his voice cracked with emotion, but he maintained his composure.

in the final moments, the screams became whimpers as the newborn’s cries filled the room. vinnie’s legs wobbled as he made his way to the nearest chair. falling and sinking into it, he put his hands over his face, the emotions getting the better of him. the nurse placed your baby into your arms, your whimpers soon turning into tears of joy and happiness as you softly graze your fingertips over your little girl’s face. vinnie brings his wobbly self to you as he watches over his two beautiful girls, marvelling at the new chapter you both have just begun.

“just so you know, we’re sharing her. she’s my mummy too, don’t you forget it.”

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x reader

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tom-holland-stuff · 2 months

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Displeasing Encounters & Passionate Debates // Chapter 3

My Masterlist

// Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 - mood-board // Chapter 3 //

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summery: After returning form district 12 Coriolanus snow has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Wealth, status, power, he's got it all. What happens when he discovers that Dr Gaul, his mentor, has taken on a new assistant.

Warning: NSFW / SMUT SMUT SMUT / Swearing / Chocking (let me know if i have forgotten anything)

A/N: Hey Hey everyone, me again. So sorry it's been a minute! here is chapter 3 and as promised things get REAL heated (be warned). im so excited for you all the read this. it originally was going to be alot longer of a chapter but i decided that is probs way to much to hit you with in one sitting, so instead i have broken it into 2 parts (the next one being chapter 4) which means it's basically ready to go. Enjoy my loves.

Word Count: 4.09K

The gala was an event Coriolanus Snow would rather have avoided.

Unfortunately duty calls in the most unpleasant ways - or at least he thought so. His presence was deemed necessary as per request, or more so demanded, by the ever-manipulative Dr. Gaul.

Don’t be mistaken, there are most definitely aspects of these festivities that Coryo enjoys. The potential for connecting and becoming well acquainted with the elites of the capital, the music isn’t too unbearable, and the endless amount of free posca is always a plus.

Coryo stands in the corner of the lavish party surrounded by some of his peers. He is barely paying attention as Clemensia and Festus argue over some social scandal. Instead he absentmindedly sips form his bubbling drink, letting his gaze trail off.

The opulent hall is one of the few buildings in the city that survived the war. The walls show its age, the once white walls now an ivory. The ceiling, he swore was as high as his own apartment is tall, held up by marvelous pillars carved from marble, the points in which they meet the floor and roof adorned in flecks of gold.

Coriolanous marvels at the extravagant interior of the building, trying to distract himself from the feeling of dread that sits low in his stomach. The impending knowledge that he will have to spend the night in her company overpowers anything enjoyable about this occasion.

The thought of having to be in her irritating presence and listen to her vexatious voice, which will undoubtedly taunt and argue with him, puts an extreme damper on his mood.

Tangled in his thoughts of loathing, he shifts his focus to the entrance of the hall. A grand staircase, made from a similar stone to the pillars, cascades down leading to the middle of the floor. He watches as guests continue to slowly pour in through the doors and down the opulent stairway, spilling out into the room to join their associates and friends.

One person in particular catches his attention as they stand at the top of the staircase - y/n.

He almost chokes on his posca.

Coriolanous can’t help but be taken aback by her appearance. He notices her radiant smile, the way her red satin dress hugs her figure in the most delicious way, bringing his attention to things he has never thought to notice before. The front of her gown droops and pools elegantly at her bust, exposing the natural curves of her body. It hugs her waist and hips snugly, to then flow from the knee down, the silky fabric spilling on the floor around her. As she makes her way down the stairs he takes note of the subtle elegance in her movements, her grace captivating and mesmerizing.

He might have thought to describe her as a vision of beauty, but he is immediately reminded why he would never actually conjure such thoughts when her gaze meets his, her once illuminating smile transforms into a hard scowl.

He whips his head back in the direction of his friends and kicks himself mentally, embarrassed that he was not only caught blatantly staring, but also that he allowed himself to think such ludicrous things about such a vile creature.

Coriolanous tries desperately to pay attention to the conversation between his friends in an attempt to distract himself. However, his efforts are in vain as he feels a presence approach him from behind, and to his immense displeasure it’s her.

He slowly turns his head again to acknowledge her approach, mimicking the feral scowl she odderend moments before.

His stomach flutters in what he assumes is a physical reaction to his dislike for the girl, but he can’t help but admire the way she carries herself with such determination.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself.

“Ah, If it isn’t Coriolanous snow, what a pleasure” she says in the most taunting way, each word laced with sarcasm.

Her expression couldn’t have been any more insincere.

“Mmm, the pleasure is mine” he retorts, pulling his mouth in a tight line as he copies her tone of insincerity.

“You haven't come with any more of those hideous reptiles have you?” he teases, taking a slow sip form his glass

“I didn’t need to, there are already one too many snakes at this party” she scoffs in amusement.

Coriolnaous hardens his glare in her direction, offended by her comment. In the back of his mind he can’t help but find her jabs and retorts amusing.

Despite his inner turmoil, Coriolanus maintained his facade of disdain, refusing to let y/n see the effect she is having on him. He squares his shoulders and plastered on his most arrogant expression, determined to keep his emotions in check.

Dr. Gaul however, had other plans.

Before either of them have the opportunity to grace eachother with more vulgar statements, their mentor appears beside them, as if she materialized from thin air.

Dr. Gaul is many things, but she is not a fool, and only a fool would be blind enough to not notice the tension brewing between her two star pupils.

“Well�� my, my, you both scrub up nice” the professor taunts.

Y/n and Coriolanous both offer her a smile in return for the unusual flattery.

“Now, i think it the most appropriate moment for me to take the time to display my studious protojays to our guests” she continues as she grabs both of their arms, leading them towards a large group of men which Coriolanous recognises to be politicions apart of president Ravinstills party.

After spending what felt like a great deal of time mingling with numerous elites of the capital, Dr. Gaul decides it to be a perfect opportunity to intervene in the interesting relationship blossoming between her students… and have some fun while she’s at it.

“Now my most special pets…” she begins, her smile turning wicked.

Coryo internally cringes at the nickname, uncertain of where this is going.

“...I think that now would be the most splendid time for you both to do me the honor of taking the floor for a dance.”

Silence follows her request.

Corionlanous and y/n both stare at her, eyes wide, trying to process what their teacher just said.

Surely this has to be a joke - he thinks.

He quickly looks to the dance floor filled with men and women pressed against each other, gliding in unison as the move to the music echoing from the orchestral band.

He snaps his head back to Gaul, mouth opened ready to protest the horrid idea, but before he is able Dr. Gaul motions them away with her hand giving them both a pointed stare, emphasizing the fact that her demands are non negotiable.

“I'll be watching from here” she says tauntingly. Coryo swears he hears her chuckle slightly.

Accepting his fate begrudgingly, he turns to y/n and offers his hand. She narrows her stare at him and his hand, scrunching her face in audacity.

She rolls her eyes and huffs in annoyance, clearly realizing she has no way out of this and places her hand in his.

Her hand is soft and supple, much smaller than his own - he blinks hard trying to rid himself of these preposterous thoughts as he leads them to the center of the floor.

They stand between the other pairs of men and women and turn to face one another, ensuring to keep some distance between themselves.

With one of her palms still in his, y/n reaches slowly with her opposite hand, placing it softly on his strong shoulder.

Coriolanus doesn't miss the look of distaste that flashes across her face before she glares at him. Taking that as a sign to reluctantly place his own free hand in the small of her back.

Her clear effort to keep distance from him makes this position feel, and no doubt look, incredibly awkward. Annoyed and not wanting people to poke fun at them Coriolans pulls her closer to him, the force and speed of the action causing y/n to gasp in shock and stumble slightly against him. She snaps her head to face him, narrowing her eyes in anger as a melody begins to play.

If looks could kill… he is sure he would be dead

Despite their initial reluctance, they find themselves swaying to the music, their bodies moving in sync as they glide across the floor in a waltz of sorts.

Coriolanous looks away from her and into the direction of his mentor, who stands in the same spot with a few other guests, she seems to be smirking in their direction.

“Your not half bad” y/n states plainly, a hint of surprise behind her words.

The comment brings his attention back to her and his confusion prompts her to continue.

“At this, I mean… dancing,” she affirms as they continue to move around the floor.

His mouth makes an O shape, understanding what she is regarding.

“My grandmam, used to make me practice with her- ” y/n stiffles as laugh at his confession.

“-but only to prepare for events like these” he tries to save himself from further embarrassment, far too aware of how that must sound.

“You're not as hopeless as I would have thought either” he smirks as he raises their clasped hands, spinning her around.

She performs the step with ease, positioning herself back in front of him as his hand takes its previous position on her back

“I have been made to take lessons since i was young” she states matter of factly, mildly insulted by the remark.

His smirk deepens in response.

“I'm not sure I can take your word for it” he challenges. Determined to taument her as she does to him.

“Well keep up then” she teases, matching his expression, accepting his challenge.

As the music's tempo quickens their dancing picks up pace. They move expertly across the floor, showcasing both their abilities. They match the moves and fluidity of the other couples, whilst also trying to one up each other, as it had become somewhat of a competition to them as things usually do.

There comes a point where Coriolanus has the urge to be bold, or maybe it's a surge of confidence.

As if it was an involuntary reaction of his body’s natural doing, he sends y/n down into a dip.

He has no time to regret his movement as It catches them both off guard as they still in the position.

Holding her tightly with his arm placed firmly around her waist, their faces mere inches apart.

Time seemed to slow, the blood pounding in his ears. He can only focus on the way y/n’s chest heaves heavily in surprise so close to his own.

They lock eyes, and he swears the world has stopped.

His crystal blue orbs bore into hers, he can’t think of anything else, drowning in her dazzling gaze.

Coriolanus was acutely aware of y/n's rapid breaths, the heat radiating from her skin, and this odd feeling simmering between them.

And again, in a reaction not of his own conscious doing, their lips draw closer in an unspoken invitation.

Y/n’s eyes flick down to his lips and then quickly back to his eyes. Her mouth parts open ever so slightly, letting out a short staggered breath.

It makes him forget where he is, who he is, who she is.

He is rudely brought back to reality.

Before he acts on his impulses, they hastily pull away from each other. The spell broken as they retreated from the other's embrace, both flustered and embarrassed by the close encounter.

She stares at him, chest heaving. He can’t make out what emotions are swirling beneath her hard exterior.

He clenches his fists at his side and takes in a deep breath, angered and embarrassed by his actions.

Y/n reciprocates his stance and then quickly turns on her heel, disappearing into the crowds of people.

Coriolance doesn't wait to see where she runs, he turns around in the opposite direction, marching god knows where.

Seeking solace from the chaos of the gala, Coriolanus, feeling overwhelmed, decides to take a walk to get some air.

He walks through the halls of the building, his dress shoes click on the sleek marble floor, echoing in the extravagant passages.

He needed to clear his head.

“What the fuck just happend” he whispers to himself, wiping his hand over his face.

He despises y/n- No,

Loathes her.

So what in the name of Panem has come over him.

Racking his brain to understand why he had felt that he wanted to- No…

Needed to close the gap between them back on the dance floor.

Lost in thought, he strode through the corridors with purpose, oblivious to his surroundings.

In his haste, he collided with someone, almost knocking them over.

Y/n - It was y/n.

“Watch where you're going” he huffs at her, brushing off his tux as if she had dirtied him with her touch.

“That's rich coming from you” she retorts

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he questions, his voice laced with disgust, desperately trying to remind himself how he feels for her.

Their initial shock now gave way to heated exchanges.

She straightens herself, crossing her arms in front of her.

He curses himself for how his eyes steal a glance at the way her movement accentuates her chest.

“This seems to be a regular occurrence for you” she points, referring to the past two times this has happened.

She’s not wrong, but of course he would not let her know that.

“I think you mean ‘we’ as it involves the both of us” he asserts, taking a step closer to her. He towers over her, his height allowing him to claim some form of dominance.

The begin to sling vulgar words at one another, with each one it becomes more heated, getting in each other faces

“ Is your ego really that big that it blinds you?” she spits at him.

He stares down at her, letting out a large breath he didn't know he was holding.

Y/n’s scowl fiercens as she steps closer to him and continues.

“Maybe if it wasn’t so large you would be able to see where you're going.”

Infuriated by her audacity Coriolanus snaps,

“Is there a singular bone in your pathetic body that carries any regard or decency” he demands, chest heaving in anger.

“Is there any in yours” she immediately hurls back at him.

He takes a determined step closer to her, making them as near as they were when they were dancing moments ago. Their faces so close their noses almost brush together.

“You are absolutely insufferable” he sneers at her.

“The feelings mutual” she heaves.

He watches her lips as she speaks, the deep shade of red that adorns them catches him in a trance. He focuses on her sharp labored breaths, much similar to his own. The heat from their interaction radiates, tangling together in the very slim space between them.

Suddenly, there is a shift in their dynamic.

He barely has time to register his actions before it’s in the midst of happening.

In a moment of reckless abandon, Coriolanus closed the distance between them, capturing y/n's lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

The tension between them having reached a boiling point, fueling the fire of their mutual disdain and clearly an undeniable undercurrent of attraction, a raw desire that neither could ignore.

Again like the dip, he can’t seem to comprehend the motive behind his actions. However, he doesn't have time to or allow himself to regret it as things begin to move quickly.

Any initial hesitation melted away as the kiss deepened.

Hands roamed freely and ravishingly, grasping at fabric and flesh with desperate urgency. Hair was tugged, nails dug into skin, and breaths mingled in heated gasps as they surrendered to the intoxicating pull of lust.

The heat between them was palpable, igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

His movements rough and demanding as he captured y/n's lips in a bruising kiss that left them both gasping for air.

There was no gentleness in their embrace, only raw, primal need as their mouths clashed in a battle for dominance.

Y/n responded with equal ferocity, her nails digging into Coriolanus's back as she pushed him against a wall.

Taken aback by her fight for control, Coryo bites down on y/n’s lip and tugs, eliciting a moan from her plump lips.

God that might have been the most heavenly sound he has ever heard.

With a growl he grabs her firmly by her waist and flips them around, pinning her beneath him.

Tongues tangling in a desperate dance of need and desire. Coriolanus's hands roamed hungrily over y/n's body. Y/n responded with equal fervor, her grip tightens on him as she pulls him closer, her body arching against his in a silent plea for more.

With a shared urgency, they pushed through a nearby door, seeking refuge in the privacy of an empty room.

Eliciting a deep growl of need, Coriolanus lifted y/n into his arms, carrying her to the nearest surface—a table that stood invitingly in the center of the room.

Without breaking their kiss, he hoists her up, placing her where he wanted.

Coriolanus trailed rough kisses along y/n's neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he left a trail of bruises in his wake. His hands were everywhere, gripping and pulling at her with a fierce possessiveness that spoke of his overwhelming desire for her.

With a groan of frustration, Coriolanus reached for the hem of y/n’s skirt, lifting it up, eager to feel her, to taste her, to claim her as his own.

Their tumultuous history forgotten in the heat of their newfound connection.

Coriolanus could not make this happen as fast as he wished-

as he needed.

He bunches y/n’s dress up around her waist. The silky red fabric pooling at her hips and on to the table. Y/n catches on quickly, replacing his hands with her own, allowing Coryo to be free to do as he desires.

In a flurry he taps her knee, silently asking her to let him in. She obliges, allowing him to stand between them. His hands rake up her thighs, he stills when he reaches between her legs, caressing the lace fabric that graces her most intimate parts.

With trembling hands, y/n reached for the fastenings of Coriolanus's trousers, eager to feel him, to taste him, to lose herself in the depths of passion.

She undoes his belt and fly, and manages to pull down his pants past his knees, but he stops her before she can grasp him through his boxers. His cock straining against the fabric. He holds her wrists tightly and presses them against the table.

Coriolanus trailed kisses along y/n's neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin as he makes his way down her body, worshiping every inch of exposed skin. His hands roamed freely, teasing and tantalizing as they explored the contours of her figure.

He rubs her through her lacy underwear, feeling how slick she is through the delicate fabric. The friction eliciting soft moans and gasps of pleasure from y/n's lips.

He moves the delicate fabric to one side allowing himself full access. He slips one digit inside of her pussy, conjuring a high pitched gasp from y/n, which only spurred him on more.

He adds another finger, and curls them upwards, beginning to bump them in and out at a devilish pace. The sensation makes y/n break from their heated kiss and throw her head back in pleasure.

Coriolanous takes the opportunity to wrap his free hand firmly around her throat, pulling her closer. Y/n gasps, or tries to, as Coriolanus tightens his grip restricting her airway, which only turns her on more. Y/n’s mouth hangs open in pure bliss as Coryo picks up the pace with his fingers.

“You like that hmmm” he hums roughly in her ear.

She nods frantically, unable to offer him a verbal response. Her eyes screw shut as she feels a knot of pleasure form in her stomach.

But Corionlas is not having it. His grip tightens around her neck forcing y/n to open her eyes and look at him.

“Answer me” he demands, letting his grip loosen ever so slightly so y/n can form a response.

“Yes” she respond breathless

Coriolanus movements slow and y/n whines in protest

“Yes, who?” he teases.

“Yes Coyro” y/n whines, her big doe eyes staring into his icy blue ones.

In that moment, there were only the two of them, and Coriolanous was ready to take this one step further.

He retracts his fingers from y/n’s aching pussy and removes his grip from her neck. The new found emptiness causes her to whine softly, the sound drowned out by Coryo attacking her with his lips once more.

Coriolanus pulls his boxes and pants the rest of the way down, freeing his length from the confining fabric.

Before y/n has a chance to whine, comment, or do anything of the matter, he pushes himself inside of her wet throbbing cunt. Y/n moans deeply as he stretches her, he growls possessively in response to how her tight walls squeeze him.

As Coriolanus thrusts into her passionately, the force of his desire driving him deeper with each powerful movement, y/n's breath caught in her throat. The intensity of his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, igniting a primal fire that burned hotter with each relentless thrust.

Her nails dug into Coriolanus's back, leaving angry red marks in their wake as she clung to him desperately,

Every movement sent waves of ecstasy crashing over her, eliciting delicious noises from the both of them.

Coriolanus's grip on her tightened, his fingers leaving bruises on her skin as he claimed her with a possessive fervor that left her trembling with need. His primal moans of pleasure echoed in her ears.

With each thrust, y/n's world narrowed to the exquisite sensation of Coriolanus filling her completely, his touch sending her spiraling towards the edge of oblivion as she feels that familiar knott begin to form again.

Her cries of pleasure only spurred him on further. The sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the empty room as she was consumed by the fiery inferno of their passion.

Y/n’s fingers tangle in his blonde locks and tug, causing him to break their heated kiss with a hiss. He instinctively wraps his hand around y/n’s throat once more and squeezes.

He watches her face as he continues to thrust in and out of her core, the tension in y/n's body reaching a fever pitch, her senses overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught of pleasure that coursed through her veins.

And then, in a moment of sheer abandon, she felt it—a surge of liquid warmth that flooded from her depths, drenching Coriolanus in a torrent of her desire.

The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a release that seemed to leave her trembling with ecstasy as pleasure crashed over her in relentless waves.

The sensation only brought him to his peak, thick ropes of white covering her thighs as he pulled out.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they basked in the afterglow of their climaxes, their bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and desire. And as they stand there, spent and sated.

And then suddenly the reality of the situation hits.

As the shock of their passionate encounter lingered in the air, Coriolanus and y/n hastily dressed themselves, their movements stiff and awkward as they avoided each other's gaze, not uttering a word. Despite the intense connection they had shared, they couldn't bring themselves to acknowledge what had transpired between them. Croiolanus’s mind reeling with disbelief at the unexpected turn of events.

Silent and tense, they endured the remainder of the gala, stealing glances at each other from across the room.

Their stares filled with a mix of confusion and desire. And when at last the night came to an end, they parted ways without a word, the weight of their shared secret hanging heavy between them.

A/N: What did we think yall?? shit really hit the fan (in the best way possible), or at least i think so. This was also my first time writing smut so please be kind. what are your guy's thoughts? please let me know if you have any suggestions ideas or ask me a question x you can do that here.

Also i don't give permission for my work to be posted without credit or whatever.

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holdmytesseract · 5 months

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moodboard by @chennqingg <3 | divider by @jiyaxedits <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: thirst, very suggestive smut/light smut - a lot, nudity, weapons, fighting, fluff, cute family moments

Word Count: 4,1k

a/n: I love this chapter. It's probably one of my favourites. I hope you all will love it, too! 🩵

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @mandywholock1980 @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 (Continuing in the comments)

❄️ Chapter Two ❄️ Chapter Four ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Three - Sweet Sixteen

A dissatisfied sigh left your lips, as you felt the pillow underneath your head moving. Being still more than half asleep, you cuddled closer against the pillow again. The moment you got gently shoved off the warm underground which supported your head woke you up - just in time to see Loki standing up from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

The rising sun, which shone through the big windows illuminated his beautiful cerulean skin. His bare back; rippled with muscles almost seemed to glow - just like his gloriously naked butt and juicy thighs. Blinking, in order to get fully awake, you bit your lip. Sinful memories of the past night flooded your brain, and causing your core to throb deliciously.

Well... Since the princes had their own chambers by now, you and Loki were able to indulge way more into your love life than before; sharing some much-appreciated privacy and intimacy. Not that you and him made it work while the twins shared your chambers, but... Now it was easier.

"Where are you going, my king?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, still trying to escape the claws of sleep. "Come back to bed." You whined, reaching out your hands blindly. A low chuckle echoed through the room, as your husband appeared again in your field of view; but now fully dressed in his armour - much to your dismay. "Apologies, my love, but I promised our sons to see their development in fighting. I have to leave for the training grounds now. Unless I'll be late."

A grunt of disapproval left your lips. "They are training this early?" Loki nodded, chuckling. "As most of the time, darling. Our sons are very disciplined when it comes down to fighting. Well... At least one of them..." Loki mumbled the last sentence; voice barely audibly. "And I appreciate that, but... Can't you stay just a little longer and then leave for the training grounds?" You pouted and played with the soft duvet which was covering your naked body, causing another deep chuckle to rumble through your husband's chest. "I appreciate your eagerness, my queen, but I'm afraid not. Though, I promise to return by sunset and I shall quench your thirst." He stated, moving to hover above your upper body. The king's palms were firmly pressed in the mattress, left and right beside your arms to hold his body up. His biceps and abs bulged deliciously, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Promised?" Loki's face was mere inches above yours now. Strands of raven hair tickling the side of your face. "Promised." His lips slotted over yours, kissing you with all the love and desire he held for you. It only managed to intoxicate you even further; making it even harder to let him go. So, you just decided to start a last try to convince him to stay.

You placed your palms on his abs, feeling the muscles flex beneath your hands, while you kept kissing him. You lingered there only for a few moments, before you let one hand wander lower. Your fingertips traced a line from his belly button, through the soft, silken hairs of his happy trail, to the hem of his ancient armour inspired loincloth. Just when you had slipped your fingers halfway underneath the garment, Loki's big hand was suddenly on yours; enveloping your wrist. His lips left yours with a pop. "Ah-ah, my queen," he tutted and gently pulled your hand away, before intertwining it with his. "As much as I'd love your hand down there... I really have to go." You huffed out a defeated breath and nodded. "Fine. Go, my king - as long as you keep your promise..." A cheeky, mischievous smirk darted over the Frost Giant's face. "Oh don't worry, my love. I want to keep this promise as much as you want me to." Loki whispered in a low voice and bestowed a last kiss on your lips - which you reciprocated hungrily.

Pulling away with a chuckle, your husband shook his head. "You are so insatiable recently, love... Merely letting me out of your sight - and bed." You just shrugged your shoulders; biting your lip. "Well... I just enjoy that we've got a bit more alone time and privacy at the moment. Happens not very often." "I agree - and I like it as well." With a wink, Loki let go of you and turned to walk to the door. "I'll see you tonight." You nodded, smiling. "I love you. Tell the boys I'm proud of them." "I love you even more. And yes, I shall do that."

Loki left the palace; greeting the guards, maids and other royal stuff on his way and headed for the training grounds. From afar, he already recognised his son's battle cries. Áki. Smiling, he leaned against one of the stone columns and watched him moving almost gracefully over the sandy underground, yielding his wooden training sword. Áki had a lot of potential to become a great warrior. He was even seen as the ideal warrior - by all the other fighters, Loki himself, Ymir (His mentor; named after the first Jotun.) and even his advisors. It caused proudness to flood the king's veins.

He admired his son for a few minutes, hidden by the column; watching his good work. But not just how hard and diligent he trained, no... It had Loki realising, that this wasn't his little boy anymore. Áki was slowly but surely growing into a man. His hair was longer now, almost reaching his shoulders. His muscles weren't anymore the muscles of a child, but a young man. Áki's shoulders became broader, his torso stronger. By the norns, Loki could even make out the subtle hints of a soft stubble on his chin. The king sighed, shaking his head. How fast time was flying by... They were just infants and now only a few months away from turning sixteen...

Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, Loki stepped out of the shadows, looking at Áki and Ymir, before scanning the area. Where was his other son? Váli was nowhere to be seen. "Dad!" Áki's voice urged to his ears, causing him to smile again. He walked over and placed a hand on his son's sweaty shoulder. Áki wasn't quite as tall as Loki - yet. "Hello, my son. I hope I'm not too late?" Áki smiled as well, shaking his head. "You're not. Just in time." Ymir gave Loki a nod, before bowing his head obediently. "My king."

Loki looked around once again, now frowning. "Where's your brother?" The young prince shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday." The king's eyes then drifted over to the warrior. "I haven't seen him either, your highness. Since a long time, actually. The last time he visited the training grounds was, I believe... a few weeks ago. Perhaps even months." Loki nodded, still frowning.

The princes weren't forced to train, in order to sharpen their fighting skills, but it was highly expected. A prince who couldn't fight and defend himself? Almost scandalous. Yet, Loki would never force his sons to do anything - except it was tradition. The traditions had to be maintained. Fighting wasn't one of them - and yet it surprised Loki to hear that his son had skipped the lessons so often.

"I'll talk to Váli. But for now..." Loki pulled out his beautifully crafted sword. "Show me what you learned." Áki grinned, taking a fighting position. "With pleasure, dad. Get ready to lose." His words made Loki chuckle. "Quite confident, aren't we? Last time we fought, you were the one who lost, son." "That may be true; but I learned."

It was late in the morning, when you decided to finally leave your bed. It had been way too comfortable to stand up - although Loki was missing beside you. Also deciding to flee from quite a few trade documents, who wished to be read and possibly signed, you made your way down the halls towards the library. A book and perhaps a cup of tea was exactly what you wanted today. Just a day off; regaining your strength. So, you told one of the maids that you wished to not be disturbed. With a nod and a curtsy, she left again, telling it the other royal stuff members and especially the royal advisors.

Closing the doors to the library behind yourself, you sighed, smiling. Silence. How soothing for your ears.

You took your time in searching for a book you'd like to read. No stress; no hurry. After you made your choice, you were about to sit down onto one of the comfortable armchairs, when an idea crossed your mind... The secret reading spot. Nobody knew about it. Except you, Loki and your sons. Clapping the book shut again, you climbed the stairs and the little ladder, which led to the hatch - and the hatch led to a little, hidden room behind the countless shelves of books. Loki showed you - though he was almost too tall to fit through the passageway. The little room was cosy furnished by your family and made to escape the royal life for a while.

Oblivious, you closed the hatch behind yourself - and looked up; almost getting a heart attack at the pair of identical Y/E/C eyes looking at you. "By the norns, Váli!" You yelped; hand draped across your heaving chest. The teenager smiled bashfully. "A-Apologies, mum." You took deep breaths, sitting down beside him on the countless pillows, blankets and furs. "What in all the nine realms are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the training grounds with your brother and father?" The young man's cheeks reddened. "I-I should, yes, but..." Váli sighed, shutting the book he was reading. "I don't like the fighting, mum. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spend my time here in the library, reading and learning new things." He paused, fumbling nervously with his fingers. "I know the basics of fighting. Áki and Ymir taught me - a-and I think that's enough. I must confess that I've been skipped the training already for weeks... I-I'm so sorry, mum, I-" The prince said almost panicky, causing you to jump in. You placed a hand on his tunic clad shoulder and smiled. "It's alright, sweetheart. I can understand. Even though I loved to fight when I was younger - like you know. Without it, I wouldn't have met your father; but I do. I really understand. This is who you are - who you want to be... And that is just fine…" You gazed lovingly into your son's eyes, witnessing his features soften and his lips twitching into a smile. The hand on his shoulder went to cup his cheek. "…as long as you know how to at least protect yourself, so I don't have to worry." Váli placed his big hand over yours, shaking his head; causing his short, blonde curls to bounce. "You won't ever have to worry, mum. I promise." You smiled and couldn't help yourself from hugging him. Something Váli gladly returned.

A few moments passed, until your son spoke up again. "So... I came here to flee from my training... From what or who are you fleeing?" A small sparkle of mischief glinted in his eyes. Váli may have been the more sensitive and sensible one of twins, but nevertheless... He was his father's child.

You giggled, shaking your head. "From my royal duties." The prince chuckled as well. "Yeah, thought so."

It was already late in the evening, when Loki returned to the palace with Áki. The father and son duo spent the whole day on the training grounds. While Loki was still up to the mark and not tired at all, Áki was lacking quite a bit stamina - yet. The teenager was worn out and tired and therefore retreated straight to his chambers - probably sleeping through.

"It has been a very successful day today. I'm proud of you, son. Of course, you still have to learn a lot of things, but... I have the feeling you are born for this. You're doing great. Keep it up - but don't forget the other important things in life." It was an allusion to the young prince's royal duties, which he liked to neglect from time to time. Áki smiled, blushing slightly, but nodded. "I will, dad, I promise. And thank you. I love to train with you. I hope we can do this more often." A chuckle rumbled through the Frost Giant's chest. "Is Ymir not satisfying enough, young warrior?" "No, no. Ymir is great, but... You are better. The greatest warrior Jotunheim has ever seen - and my dad." Loki nodded, understood what Áki meant and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I know what you mean. I promise you I'll take time to train with you. Being the king isn't an easy task and utterly busy, but... Family is way more important. Although, I can't always leave the duties to your mother. She's got enough of her own." "I understand." "I know you do." The king patted his son's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night's rest." "Thanks, dad. You too - and... Greet mum, please. I haven't seen her all day..." "I will."

After saying goodbye to his one son, Loki marched straight to the chambers of his other son - which weren't far away. Just down the hallway. Knocking gently, he waited for an answer. A few moments later, he got one. "Come in!" Váli's voice urged to Loki's ears from behind the door. He stepped inside and found his son nestled in front of the fireplace, reading. The nights had started to become quite cold, indicating that autumn was on his way. Váli lifted his head, in order to see who the 'intruder' was. His eyes widened immediately, when they landed on his father. "O-Oh, hello, d-dad." He clapped the book shut, putting it aside. "C-Can I help you with something?" Váli was nervous and frankly a bit afraid, because he knew exactly what was going on.

Loki gave him a nod, before he crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. "You weren't on the training grounds today... And Ymir told me that you missed his fighting lessons quite often... Why?" Loki could see how the teenager swallowed and started to play with his fingers nervously. The conversation for him like a déjà vu, since he had talked with you about it this morning as well.

"I-I am sorry, dad, it's just..." He sighed. "I, uh, I don't like the fighting. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spent the whole day in the library. Reading books, learning things." Loki was quite a bit speechless. He knew, of course, how much his son loved his books, but he didn't expect that. "A-And I know that I have to be able to defend myself - which I understand! I do. I really do - and I am more than capable of doing so. I can defend myself if I have to. I learned the basics of fighting and that's enough." Váli paused, taking a deep breath, while his father still listened patiently to what he has to say. "I-I hope you understand that. Y-You once said that you wouldn't force us to do anything besides tradition, so please, dad... Please don't-" That was the moment Loki had to jump in.

"Váli..." He walked over to his son, laid his arm around his shoulder and guided him to sit down on the little fur clad sofa beside the fireplace. "Me, nor your mother would force you to do anything you don't want to. That's what I once said, yes... And it never changed. That point still stands. It always will. If you prefer reading than fighting, then by the norns, be it this way." The king smiled at the prince, who was visibly relieved. "Nevertheless, I'd like to test your skills. See if you really are able to defend yourself. It's important." Váli nodded. "Okay." "Okay. Let's say tomorrow?" Once again, a nod. "Tomorrow." "Good." Loki clapped his son gently on the back and stood up. "I'll leave you to your book now. I am sure your mother awaits me already." Váli smiled. "Thank you, dad." He gave him a nod, "Of course." and turned to leave. "I wish you a good night's rest."

After the important conversation with his son, Loki made his way quickly and full of anticipation to his and your shared chambers. After all, there was some... unfinished business between you and him. When he finally reached the door, he practically stormed in - only the find the chambers empty, except for a maid, who was currently cleaning up. The maid noticed him of course immediately and quickly curtsied. "Oh, good evening, your majesty." Loki gave her a nod. "Have you seen my wife? Do you know where she is?" "Yes, my king. She is having her supper." Oh... Too bad, Loki thought, but decided not to join you. He'd wait for you. "Thank you. Leave now, please. I wish to be alone." The maid curtsied again, "Of course, my king." and hurried to leave the royal chambers.

The king decided to take a bath; get rid of all the sweat, grime and dust, while he waited for you to return.

Putting your spoon aside, you stood up from the table. "Your majesty, have you had enough to eat? Can I bring you something else?" You shook your head and smiled at the young maid. "No, thank you. I'll retreat to the chambers for the night." The young female Jotun nodded and curtsied. "Very well, my queen." "Oh, do you know if my husband and son already returned?" She shook her head. "Unfortunately, not. No." "Alright, thank you. Good night." "Good night, your highness."

While the maids already hurried to clean everything up, you left the dining hall and made your way back towards your chambers.

Softly closing the door behind yourself, you decided to go to bed early today. A long, rough day of neglected work was coming your way, without a doubt. And since Loki hasn't returned yet either...

You stepped over to the bed you shared with the king. With a sigh, you reached behind yourself and started to undo the laces of the corset you wore. It was attached to a beautifully tailored skirt. The colours were a rich gold and a deep green, showing of course to whom your heart belonged. Loki. You may be living on Jotunheim now, surrounded by your folk, the Jotuns, but nevertheless... You were still an Æsir and also loved to wear Asgardian dresses. It was a part of who you were. A part of yourself.

Your hands worked blindly on unlacing the corset, causing you to highly concentrate on the difficult task ahead. You were so focused, that you didn't notice the calculated steps, coming your way. Loki was lurking behind you in the dark, like a predator was observing his prey. The moment you started to undress; his eyes never left your body for a second. Fixated on what was his. Now, he was standing right behind you; your intoxicating scent invading his system like a drug. He was never going to get tired of this. Never. His eyes trailed over your back; followed the sliver of skin, which peeked through the gap of the unlaced corset. Ruby orbs settled on your hands, as he watched them work. It was a feast for his eyes and probably selfish, but he couldn't help himself.

His fingers twitched; eager to touch you. Loki managed to control himself for quite a few moments, but at some point, he just couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out his arms, he enveloped your hands, causing you to flinch. But he leaned quickly forward, bestowing a sensual kiss on the skin where your neck met your shoulder, reassuring you. "Shh, it's me, my queen," the king whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine at his deep, raspy voice. His hands gently removed yours, as he took the laces in his own hands, unlacing the corset for you. Once that was done, you felt his fingertips dancing over the sliver of freed skin, before he slipped both his hands inside your dress, in order to shove the expensive garment over your shoulders and down your arms; letting it fall to the ground. Now you stood in front of him almost naked. Your white undergarment was the last thing covering you. Although Loki made quick work of ridding you of those as well; leaving you now completely bare. You could feel his ruby eyes on you again; followed by his sinful touch. Palms coming to rest right above your hip bones; thumbs caressing the soft skin on your lower back. You shivered again; heartbeat increasing. Loki's touch never failed to overwhelm you in so many different ways. It had never changed. From the moment he touched you for the first time, through all the years and now.

His hands lingered there only for a few moments, before they started their journey. They travelled upwards, passing by your hips and waist, until they landed on your ribcage - mere inches underneath the swell of your breasts. Your breathing was already ragged; growing more and more unsteady the further up his hands travelled. But it failed you for a second, when they stopped so close in front of their destination. He was teasing you. "L-Loki," you breathed; already pleading him. He had you - without a doubt. Loki just had to snap his fingers and you were a chaotic, aroused mess for him.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Already begging me, darling? Isn't my touch enough?" He asked in a low, husky voice, tightening his grip. You whimpered - in desperation. Loki chuckled once more; hands starting to roam your body again - but missing the parts where you needed him the most. "My queen..." He whispered hoarsely. "You are divine. I swear, I will never tire of you. Still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A feast for the eyes." He was so close to you. So close, that you could feel his hot breath tickling the skin on your neck. "My eyes only, of course. You belong to me. You are mine." Loki pressed another feverish kiss on your neck. "Let me worship you." Kiss. "Let me make love to you." Kiss. "M-My king, I-I-" He grinded his hips against your back, causing you to cut off your own sentence; mouth forming a perfect 'o'. He was naked. Your eyelids fell shut; a ragged breath leaving your lips.

"Time to keep my promise," your husband growled into your ear, as he pushed you forward - walking you closer to the bed. Before your body could hit the sheets, he turned you around, so you were sitting on the edge of the bed - with Loki towering above you know. Finally, you could lay your eyes upon your handsome man. He had freshly bathed. You could tell by the wet strands of his raven hair. Small droplets of water were still running down his cerulean skin, making their way down his entire body. His ruby eyes were an even darker shade of red; clouded by lust. You took the few moments, in which you just shamelessly stared at him. Time to tease him a bit.

Loki was staring down at you as well. One hand was in his hair, smoothing back his wet hair, while the other was... Your eyes lowered, landing on his crotch. Oop. You smirked and reached out your hand, batting his away - which caused a low groan to escape his throat. Placing both your palms on his thick, muscular thighs, you rubbed them up and down his long femurs; not missing to dig your fingernails into the supple skin - causing Loki to hiss. Close. But not close enough. "My love..." He whined; abs clenching in pure, primal desperation. You smiled again, biting your lips. Just a bit more.

"Aren't you tired, my king? After a whole day of fighting? Don't you wish to go to bed immediately?" You teased him further. Loki shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. "My queen... You-" He groaned again, as you traced the inside of his thighs; muscles twitching, hips bucking. "You were saying, my king?" Loki swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Y-You of all the p-people should know how much s-stamina I have." That was true. "Mhh, indeed." Your hands moved to his ass, urging him to step closer. "Then show me again how much stamina you got."

#the ice flower au #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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princessanonymous · 4 months

Text

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

10. 𝓐 𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓐𝓰𝓸

She looked down. "Where are we going?" She repeated, desperate to change the subject.

He let go of her hand and reached into his coat to pull out two tickets that he handed her. After studying the writing on the tickets, (Y/n) looked up with a curious expression. "An art exhibition?"

He acquiesced with evident delight. "Indeed," he confirmed. "If fate is on our side, we might even be able to acquire some of the masterpieces on display."

She hummed in response, her interest not overly piqued, yet not repulsed by the prospect of the outing either. As they got off the carriage, the duke opened a sleek black umbrella as they walked the streets of London, a stark contrast against the backdrop of the setting sun casting an orange hue across the horizon.

"Aren't you protected by your ring?" she asked under her breath as she observed the scenery.

Passersby, less fortunate people, were looking at them with interest. There was something so striking about that. Here she was, dressed in lavish garments fit for royalty when all her life, she had simply been a peasant girl. Months ago, (Y/n) would have walked the same streets without anyone batting an eye.

"I am," he replied, revealing his adorned ring with a subtle flourish. "But the feeling of its rays against my skin is still unpleasant."

As they entered a grand beige building in the city, the duke gracefully presented their tickets to the attendant at the door. A quick survey of the room revealed a vast exhibition hall, bustling with people. They were all aristocrats, but as she observed everyone's mannerisms, (Y/n) became fairly certain that these men and women in elegant clothes were human.

A hopeful smile graced her face as her heart quickened its pace. This could be her chance to escape. Perhaps, she could scream for help. Yes, (Y/n) would scream for help at the top of her lungs and surely someone would come save her.

"He—" Before she could utter a sound, a hand was placed firmly over her mouth, stifling any attempt to scream. Panic surged within her, eyes widening with fear as the reality of her situation.

As she excitedly explored her first art exhibition, some onlookers shot her peculiar glances, but they refrained from commenting. In a gentle voice, the vampire remarked, "I understand this is your first art exhibition, but there is no need to express your excitement so loudly, dear." Speaking audibly for those nearby, he then leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, and whispered, "There are about thirty humans here, most inexperienced in combat. I'd venture to say the odds are in my favor. Care to take the risk, my daughter? It could be an amusing game, though I'd hate to stain the exquisite art on display."

He paused before adding, "This is your second warning today, doll."

The air seemed to constrict as the weight of the vampire's words settled in, an unspoken tension lingering in the space between them. (Y/n) felt the chill that accompanied the subtle shift in atmosphere, a reminder of the power the vampire possessed. She tensed up at the second threat he had given her today and the vampire's hand retreated. (Y/n) bit back a snide remark, knowing retorting wasn't a good idea now.

Realizing she had no way of winning this time, the human continued on with the vampire who navigated the place, marveling at the paintings, drawings, and sculptures. The vampire occasionally lingered, absorbing the descriptions offered with an air of discerning appreciation.

Much to his dismay, most of them weren't for sales, still, the nobleman often tried to bargain and offer astronomical amounts of money for simple art pieces. (Y/n) huffed. With such wealth, her family could lead a life of comfort for generations. If they were still alive, she reminded herself bitterly.

"So much money," she commented in a hushed tone, her eyes flickering over the priceless pieces. "Is there some secret rule stating that vampires must be super wealthy?"

He laughed at that and shook his head. "No, but I would argue that any of us who isn't, simply is dimwitted," he admitted with a confident smile. "After all..."

He trailed off, seemingly having noticed something important. (Y/n) followed his gaze until it landed on a tableau—an inconspicuous painting, beautiful yet seemingly no different from the others. It depicted an old man, almost god-like with wings, holding a child's wings and attempting to remove them with a scythe. A grim sight, indeed, but it still didn't explain the vampire's peculiar interest.

"Saturn Clipping the Wings of Cupid," he whispered wistfully what appeared to be the name of the tableau.

"You got it right, good sir," announced the man next to the painting proudly. "From the late Ivan Akimov himself. The original."

The vampire hummed as he arched a sly brow. "Oh, is it really? " he asked with a look of interest.

The enthusiastic salesman nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes," he assured. "Only for 30 pounds*."

(Y/n), bug-eyed, stared at the price tag. It was expensive—too expensive for her comprehension. Her incredulity deepened when she witnessed the duke pull out his checkbook, seemingly unfazed by the ridiculous large sum.

"30 pounds for the original one does sound reasonable," the duke commented and the salesman smiled at that. However, the vampire's demeanor shifted as he paused and sneered, his tone cutting through the air. "But, a fake is worth nothing."

The salesman's face flushed a deep shade of red. "Are you insinuating that this is a fake?"

"Oh no, I am not insinuating anything," the vampire chuckled, shaking his head. But the humor dissipated rapidly, and his expression turned sour. "I am saying that people like you shouldn't dare enter these places to try to swindle money with mediocre copies."

Whispers and snide comments rippled through the bystanders as they watched the confrontation unfold. The salesman, now sweating bullets, struggled to maintain composure amid the growing anger. The salesman, now faced with the exposure of his deception, stammered incoherently, attempting to salvage what remained of his credibility. The onlookers, once drawn to the allure of the artwork, now regarded it with a newfound skepticism.

The vampire stepped forward, approaching the portrait to scrutinize it closely. (Y/n) just watched like all the others. "The scythe is too small," he critiqued, crossing his arms with an air of authority. "The beard isn't quite the right shade of grey, and any connoisseur of the arts of the era would notice the muscles aren't defined enough. This is a pathetic imitation."

The salesman practically leaped in rage towards the duke, his face contorted with fury. Yet, the vampire, possessing a supernatural grace and speed, effortlessly sidestepped the attack. The mansion's guards were summoned to intervene, ensuring that the confrontation didn't spiral into chaos.

The charlatan, now surrounded by vigilant guards in imposing uniforms, found himself escorted out of the grand estate. The vampire sent him one last disgusted glance. As the guards guided the disgraced salesman away, the vampire turned to face the onlookers, his demeanor shifting effortlessly. With a practiced charm, he sent a captivating smile to those who had witnessed the unraveling drama. It was as if he had performed a well-rehearsed act.

As the noblemen and women continued to admire the vampire aristocrat with fascination, (Y/n) couldn't suppress the twist of disgust within her. If only they knew what he truly was, their admiration would turn to fear and horror. All vampires were nothing more than monsters cloaked in a convincing human disguise, a disguise that concealed the horrifying nature that lurked beneath. His charismatic smile, the graceful movements, and the impeccable manners were a well crafted mask.

They left the grand estate shortly after the vampire had acquired something to his liking - an authentic tableau this time - for 40 pounds. The carriage passed through the evening landscape as they left the city and a chance for her to flee.

As they left in the carriage, (Y/n) couldn't help but voice a question she had. "You really remembered so many details about a specific painting?" she inquired.

He smiled, a reminiscing glint in his eyes. "Of course, I was there with Akimov at the time he was making it. It was around fifty years ago, I believe," he replied.

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

*30 pounds at that time = 3651,90 pounds today = 4652,52 US Dollars

£1 in mid victorian era would cost £121.73 today according to what I've read. Don't quote me on that though. XD

Also, here is the painting mentioned.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader

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musings-of-miss-j · 16 days

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part seven: in which the obscenely wealthy resident makes himself a permanent fixture to your list of problems, even after you find comfort in the normality of Snezhnaya's city (and its firewater)

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: cuz i set fire to the rain but rain won't fucking catch fire fuck's sake (slowburn), gn neutral sarcastic legend sick of ppl's bs reader, slightly suggestive

series masterlist

author's notes: *throws this chapter at u like its crumbs and ur pigeons on the pavement*

reblog the crumbs my pigeons <3

word count: 5134 words

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Snezhnaya was so cold. Bitingly, piercingly, mercilessly cold. But the city was warmer, more welcoming. Despite the icy wasteland surrounding it, the rows of shops and frosted-over streetlights boasted an almost friendly atmosphere, tinny music trickling through the cracks of some of the doors and stalls advertising ‘the greatest hot chocolate ever sold!’. Childe took hold of your hand under the guise of not wanting to lose you when you passed through a particularly busy street, but neglected to let go even after the crowd dispersed. You let him, and dragged him into a cosy bookstore piled high with well-loved stories. He insisted on carrying every book you chose while you browsed, following you through the shelves with hardcovers piled high in his arms, leading the owner of the shop to shoot the two of you a knowing glance you didn’t particularly like. A clothes shop nestled into a corner also caught your eye, and after a pleasant half hour of perusing the finest selection of furs and suits and dresses you’d ever seen you left with a brand new cloak to replace your lost one, black with silver clasps and a fur trim that would have been expensive enough to haunt you for a week or so, if Childe hadn’t sneakily paid for it the moment you picked it up. He led you to the city’s landmarks; the frozen fountains and an ice rink you refused to step onto, and you even let him drag you into a tavern.

“Eleven, please. I’m far from a good drinking partner.” Your protest sounded weak even to your own ears; you were quite curious to try the infamous Snezhnayan firewater, and the tavern was wonderfully warm.

“Don’t shoot it ‘til you’ve tried it,” he cheerfully replied, pulling you through the door by your joined hands and steering you towards a table near the window. The place was rowdier than you’d expected; a bard sang and danced on a tabletop, strumming a ukulele while the clattering of coins hitting the surface melded with the people’s laughter and clapping hands. You were reminded of the irresponsible, green-clad bard from Mondstadt who’d avoided you at every turn yet shone onstage. Before you knew it, you were laughing and knocking back a drink yourself, leaning back in your seat and letting your voice join the cheers and chatter. Childe marvelled at how much more relaxed you were outside of the palace, the tenseness in your shoulders gone and the sceptical furrow between your brows softened, one arm hooked around the back of your chair while you swirled your drink with the other hand.

“Say, Eleven,” you half-yelled to be heard over the ruckus. “What possessed you to join this Archons-forsaken association?”

“Quickest way to become a better fighter.”

You laughed under your breath, downing the rest of your drink. No more for you tonight, that was certain; pleasantly tipsy was one thing but you were far from keen on being flat-out drunk.

“Is that so?” You quipped back, appraising him thoughtfully. “You know, Eleven, I’ve heard some gut-churning things about you,” you mused, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. “That you’re a bloodthirsty maniac. A murderous villain. That your only home is the battlefield.”

His breath caught in his throat. Here you were, tearing out any last semblances of goodness he still thought he had and laying them before him, tattered and bleeding. And you did it all with that small, thoughtful smile. The ambience of the tavern flickered like a faulty speaker, his ears filling with anxious static.

“I think you’re more than half-decent, though.” Alcohol certainly loosened tongues. The cacophony of the bar came rushing back.

You stacked a few coins on the table to pay for your drink, heedless of the relief coursing through his veins like the most potent drug. You knew. He didn’t know how, but you knew about the savagery lurking so near to the surface of the charm that had once come so naturally to him but now took an effort to maintain, and you didn’t hate him for it. More than half-decent. You might as well have called him a prince. He felt giddy, drunk on your praise.

Breaking out of his trance, he firmly pushed your mora back in your direction and paid for the drinks himself despite your objections. You bickered over the matter the entire trek back to the palace, settling into the easy familiarity of squabbling back and forth with him. He accompanied you to the dining hall, too, claiming he had nothing to do at all even though Pierro was getting impatient at the lack of progress he’d made on tracking the Geo Gnosis; after all, what significance did godhood hold compared to you and the divine splendour of your laughter?

You found Arlie idling just outside. Preposterous, that she’d be reduced to dawdling around in hopes to see you, but there she was nonetheless, with the last plate of your favourite dessert that she’d snagged before a poor recruit could get his hands on it to boot. All damning evidence of her budding affection. Pleasantly surprised to see her, you made to introduce her to Childe.

“Oh, Arlie! I didn’t expect to see you today.”

She and Childe’s gazes met over the top of your head, the latter stupefied at seeing one of the most high-ranking Harbingers being referred to so casually, and by you, upholder of titles, no less, while the former shot him a formidable glare that warned him to hold his tongue lest she rip it out for him. She nodded shortly at your introduction.

“Childe and I are familiar.”

You hummed and pursed your lips. Surely this was ample confirmation that she was a Harbinger.

“Lovely, we’re all friends here then,” you said with just a touch of sardonic humour. “Why don��t we take lunch together?” You suggested, mostly as a way to further observe their dynamic and gather more evidence to support your theory. Arlie handed you the plate without ceremony.

“I’ve already had lunch, but I’d be happy to accompany you.” Even if she found Childe exuberantly foolish.

“I could eat,” Childe seconded, slinging an arm around your shoulders, not missing the way you beamed at her little gift.

Thus you found yourself seated under a gazebo in the palace gardens, pointedly ignoring the strained tension between your two companions while you admired the snow you’d once lamented and contentedly ate the berries from your pavlova. What a funny situation. You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up befriending two higher-ups from a supposedly dangerous organisation and willingly spending time in their company over a plate of such exquisite dessert, but you supposed life had a way of being funny like that.

“Do enlighten me as to how the two of you know each other,” you said, waving your spoon vaguely. They let an ear-splitting silence fall, tense and rigid. You pointedly ignored the on-edge atmosphere, taking another bite of your pavlova.

“Well?” You prompted.

Childe clenched his teeth momentarily. “We were assigned on the same mission this reconnaissance cycle.” Arlie offered a non-committal hum of agreement.

“Interesting. And why is it that you seem on the verge of lunging at each other with the intent of causing as much bodily harm as possible?” You asked in a deceptively innocent tone. Childe wished you weren’t so clever sometimes, while Arlie turned her head away to hide her smile.

“Enough about us,” she interjected, leaning forward slightly to adjust the insignia you had pinned to the shoulder of your new cloak. “Tell me how you liked the city.”

“Snezhnayan firewater certainly lives up to its reputation for being extremely potent,” you replied with a shrug, setting aside your empty plate. “And Lord Eleven has similarly scandalous reputation outside the palace,” you added slyly, just to push his buttons. A bit of payback for not telling the truth about how he knew Arlie.

He choked on air. “What?”

Arlie raised an eyebrow. “What, indeed. Care to explain, Childe?”

“Not really,” he responded airily, tugging at his collar and clearing his throat. One advantage of Arlecchino being disguised like this was that he could somewhat safely dodge her authority under the guise of protecting her alibi.

Childe was saved from describing the reason for his less-than-ideal reputation when a young recruit, barely eighteen from the looks of it, came marching hurriedly towards you. Apparently the Director of the Harbingers himself was requesting Childe’s presence, and he left with more than a little reluctance and a wave goodbye. Arlie watched him rush off and allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction at the timely intervention. You touched her shoulder to catch her attention again, a small leather box in hand.

“I bought you something from the city,” you said, offering it to her. She stared at it in silence for so long you feared you might have offended her, when really her mind was spinning with the implications of you buying her a gift.

You swallowed nervously. She still hadn’t accepted the gift from your outstretched hand, staring blankly at the little box.

“Do you not want it?”

“I do,” she all but snapped, finally taking it. “I was… surprised, is all.”

A four-leafed brooch lay inside, gleaming black metal inlaid with red gemstones that glittered as they caught the light.

Her silence left you a little nervous, and you found yourself rambling uncharacteristically to fill it. “The merchant was adamant that it’s crafted entirely from the finest silver, but I didn’t test it in the lab yet. But I can confirm that the jewels have a purity of at least seventy five percent, and it’ll fetch a handsome bit of mora if you choose to sell it”-

“Thank you. It’s…” Stunning? Lovely? Beautiful? Arlecchino was truly at a loss for words, and fought not to stare at you. What a warming thought, that you’d spotted a little trinket and your mind had conjured her as a recipient for a gift. How lovely, to think that she occupied your thoughts enough to become a regular visitor. “It’s exceptionally well-made.”

You beamed. “I’m glad to hear that. You seem to prefer black and white clothing, I think the red will serve as a striking contrast.”

“Indeed,” she agreed mechanically, offering you the barest hint of a smile. You could tell her the sun rose in the west and paper was inflammable and she’d probably agree at that moment. A part of her despised how much power that gave you. You took out your pocket watch.

“Ah, perhaps we should go back inside,” you suggested, rising from the bench and brushing away the layer of snow on your shoulders. “According to my observations, the temperature drops quite rapidly at around this time, and I have a few letters to write.”

Arlie quickly excused herself once inside the palace (to ruminate alone over her gift), leaving you to take a pile of your best parchment and a pot of your smoothest, most pigmented ink to the Regrator’s library. It took a moment of fumbling with your stationery to kneel and get the door open, but the sight within was as rewarding as it had been the last time you stumbled upon the place; bathed in the late afternoon’s pale golden light, the fire crackling merrily and glinting off the silver etched into the bookshelves, chairs comfortable and inviting. You gladly dropped into one of them, sighing contentedly as the plush leather enveloped you, and began penning addresses onto envelopes with magnificent blue and purple quill you’d received from your friends as a graduation gift. You still didn’t know where such a large, vibrantly coloured feather could have come from.

Sumeru – Sumeru City – The Akademiya – Scribe Alhaitham

Mondstadt – Mondstadt City – Mona Megistus

Inazuma – Watatsumi Island – Sangonomiya Kokomi

Liyue – Wangsheng Funeral Parlour – Director Hu Tao

Fontaine – Opera Epiclese – Duellist Clorinde

With some reluctance, you also marked an envelope Inazuma, Narukami Shrine for Yae Miko. The contract you’d signed all those years ago to provide her publishing house with what she called ‘light novels’ would never end.

How far-flung your friends seemed, scattered throughout Teyvat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Maybe you’d take to travelling again once your diploma was finished, a vacation of sorts to see everyone … You filed that thought away for later contemplation.

For a while, the only sounds in the library were the scratching of your quill on parchment, the slight rattling of the stained glass windows as the late afternoon breeze whooshed by and… faint talking? You frowned slightly, glancing up from your writing. Two voices, vaguely familiar and gradually rising in volume; an argument, then. How irritating. You ignored it for as long as you could, until the shouting was clearly decipherable and loud enough to make your quill pause every few sentences to rearrange your thoughts (you and Lisa’s correspondence was mainly in the form of original poetry, and the distraction was making it even more difficult to find a rhyme for ‘Harbinger’.) The noise grew unbearable, and with an aggravated huff you left your things laying on the armchair to ascertain the source and perhaps ask them to quiet down.

Honestly. People’s utter disregard for a library’s rules is intolerable.

After spending some time weaving through the towering bookshelves and past iced-over windows, angry voices growing louder and louder, you finally located the culprits.

It seemed you wouldn’t be asking anyone to quiet down, considering the argument was between Signora and the Regrator. Just your luck, really. Resigned to sealing the envelopes and finalising the calculations of your lab report back at the dorm, you turned to leave only for them to fall silent.

“(Name?)”

You cursed under your breath and pivoted on your heel to face the mortifying situation you’d found yourself in.

“My lord, my lady,” you managed after a strained moment of trying to collect yourself. “I heard shouting”- Signora and the Regrator shot each other a heated glare- “and thought it might be wise to investigate.” You conveniently left out the part where you’d gotten so riled up that you were quite prepared to admonish whoever it was. They didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing to worry about,” the Regrator assured smoothly, brushing invisible dust off his shoulders. He wore velvet today, supple and sophisticated, while Signora sported a lavish fur collar that she angrily swept back around her neck. You had to admit her elegance indisputably came naturally to her; even with her face twisted into a frown and no one to impress, she still radiated an effortless air of refinement and superiority.

The Regrator was different. Those endless eyes, that deliberate half-smile, his tasteful-bordering on-excessive attire, the guarded disposition… all of it hinted at a man who’d started low and clawed his way to the top. You were willing to bet he still had the blood under his fingernails to prove it, and wondered if it haunted him at all. There wasn’t any hint of remorse in his polished smile or fathomless eyes. An apprehensive shiver ran up your spine, and you averted your gaze.

“If you’ll excuse me”-

“No, no. Sit down, little one, we could use a mediator,” Signora cut in, gesturing towards an empty chair with a tilt of her head, never once breaking the intense glare she pointed at the Regrator. You sighed, thinking of your yet-to-be-delivered letters and the lab report that still needed writing.

“As much as I’d love to act as the referee for your dispute”- the Regrator had to suppress a genuine laugh at your carefully derisive wording, while Signora let an imperceptible, fond smile take over her face- “I’m afraid I have some rather urgent matters to attend to.”

“Surely not so urgent that you’d risk upsetting us?”

How he managed to sound so innocent yet sly was beyond you. The mischievous slant of his lips betrayed the true intention behind his deceptively benign tone; to embarrass its recipient for his own entertainment. Not to mention how breaching etiquette felt akin to throwing yourself to the sharks when it came to him. Something about the Regrator exuded propriety and demanded a similar demeanour to be maintained, unlike the rest of the Harbingers around whom a certain degree of sarcasm could safely be upheld; Childe could even be described as friendly, and despite the Doctor’s terrible reputation and a justifiable ego thanks to his unparalleled intellect your mutual inclination towards scientific progress made him more approachable, while Signora had yet to berate you for any lapse in politeness, instead regarding you with a sharp smile and an air of superiority that made it quite clear to you that she found you funny. Demeaning, really.

Still, your current problem was how to escape the cage of social obligation Regrator had managed to weave.

“I’m afraid so, Lord Regrator,” you confirmed drily, offering him and Signora a shallow bow. “Here’s to hoping your dispute comes to a swift and satisfying end.”

You moved to leave, gladdened by your evidently inoffensive departure. He couldn’t have that, of course; you’d caught his interest and he’d decided to indulge in his curiosity.

“Allow me to join you,” he proposed, falling into step next to you. Signora let out a very audible tsk. You couldn’t help but agree with her.

“I really don’t think that’ll be necessary”-

“Many of the best things in life aren’t,” he responded, guiding you towards the door with a hand on your back. Annoyed by him trying to steer you, you sped up and went to collect the letters; the Regrator, undeterred by how you’d shrugged away his touch, took the stack of envelopes from you. Wary of accepting any help from a Harbinger, you attempted to retrieve them with an array of pleasantries such as ‘there’s really no need, I can carry them myself’ and ‘you’re really too kind’.

To no avail; in the end, he even managed to nick your satchel right off your shoulder and carry it the entire way back to your dorm, much to your embarrassment. You supposed it was only polite to invite him inside, not that you’d expected him to graciously accept your invitation and make himself comfortable in the armchair across the fireplace. You didn’t miss the way his fingers traced the patches of embroidery you’d painstakingly made along the seams, rows of tiny colourful flowers stitched for the purpose of improving your dexterity before a particularly finicky experiment and maybe even to leave a mark of your stay here; the fact he’d noticed them at all indicated an impressive attention to detail that made you wonder what else might stand out to him about your living space. Perhaps he found your accommodations excessively modest. The thought amused you no end; a rich boy out of his depth would never not be funny, after all. He seemed utterly at ease, though, content to watch you shed your new cloak and pick out leaves and cups for tea without any conversation, those dark eyes following your every move.

“You’re staring quite intently, my lord,” you remarked, handing him a cup of tea and wrapping your gloved fingers around your own.

“Beauty should be appreciated, no?”

You laughed under your breath, hoping you weren’t blushing at such a clichéd line. “I suppose I walked into that one,” you conceded, resting your weight against the edge of your desk and wondering how best to broach the topic of why he accepted your invitation to come inside. He smiled and lifted the teacup to his lips, as if aware of your internal dilemma. You cursed every aspect of his polished personality for making you feel like you had to be especially polite.

“Is the tea to your liking?”

“Delectable,” he assured. That vexing half-smile on his face was starting to get on your nerves; it was as though he was contemplating something awfully hilarious about your countenance that you weren’t aware of.

You offered him a nod of acknowledgement, turning to sort through the pages upon pages of calculations you’d made for your next experiment. It pertained to the various elemental crystals that apparently gave Vision holders extra power; a relatively recent discovery you’d made in your last year at the Akademiya and one you were quite proud of. It still needed further testing before you could guarantee the benefits of using them and how to do so, but the theoretical efficiency you’d calculated was very high at a whopping ninety-four point seven per cent. You really were quite proud of this potential breakthrough, and were excited to share it with the Doctor, someone who’d appreciate the complexities of an experiment even before it came to fruition. Maybe you’d gift Childe a gemstone of the Varunada Lazurite variety after the testing stage was concluded, since he was so incessantly obsessed with improving his combat prowess. You doubted Arlie’s illusionary magic would benefit from such a crystal, though. It didn’t quite shock you as much as it should’ve that you were so casually thinking of gifting a Harbinger something, as though you were friends. Perhaps you did consider them friends. Your brows furrowed infinitesimally. How bizarre.

The Regrator interrupted your musings with a slight laugh.

“I must know what’s on your mind to have such a puzzled expression cross your face.”

Embarrassed by his scrutiny, you cleared your throat and neatly stacked your paperwork into the wooden case to avoid looking at those eyes.

“Nothing at all,” you insisted. “Just my research.”

It was becoming a familiar lie.

“Well then, do enlighten me,” he said, peering up at you over his glasses. You paused in the act of rewriting a horribly complex chemical equation with the correct stoichiometric ratios. You couldn’t believeyou’d made such a foolish mistake, and you grimaced at the thought of the ridicule you would’ve no doubt received from the Doctor if you ended up submitting it.

“I doubt it’ll be of much interest to you, my lord.”

“I suspect I may surprise you yet,” he replied, gazing up at you expectantly.

You drummed your fingers against the wooden surface of your desk, deep in thought. From your perspective, common sense dictated that you should not under any circumstances share the details of your research lest someone apply for a patent of the invention before you, and thus take all the credit for the discovery. You suppressed a shudder of revulsion at the thought. No, the Regrator was not to be trusted with the minutiae of your research.

Celestia’s sake, he’s a banker. He’s not to be trusted, period!

You turned to face him, the beginnings of an idea just barely discernible in the quirk of your brows, the smile on your lips that was a little too devious to be written off as merely polite.

“Why not enlighten me with details about your work instead?”

You sly little trickster.

He surveyed you with a half-smile not unlike the one on your own face, impressed by your deflection.

“Hm. Seems we’ve hit an impasse,” he remarked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the armchair, the picture of immovable and infuriatingly self-assured calm. A side effect of being rich, you supposed, watching him get comfortable with mental sigh. You’d hoped he’d be on his way soon; evidently that would not be the case. “We’re both unwilling to part with the secrets of our trade.”

“Yes, quite,” you agreed with a laugh you couldn’t suppress. It was amusing to think that the Regrator, a man who obviously dealt in meticulously worded phrases with a penchant for hiding his true intentions behind walls of elegance, was being forced to get straight to the point with no purposeful stalling whatsoever. Because of you, no less. Oddly enough, he found himself not quite as incensed as he would’ve expected at being the subject of your hilarity. Perhaps that had something to do with how agreeable mirth looked on you, softening the ever-present suspicion even if only for a moment.

What an interesting little thing you were turning out to be.

He watched as your eyes began to wander in the silence that followed, first to your window and the glowing flowers sprouting from the cracks around it, then to the fire in the hearth where it lingered for a little longer, along the walls, tracing the silver lines engraved on them, before finally resting on his hand. He wondered which of his many rings you were so fixated on.

“Perhaps we should both retire for the night, my lord,” you suggested, tearing your gaze away from the diamond ring you were still quite interested in testing. He raised his eyebrows, his smile turning devious.

“What, together? I didn’t think you were so forward, (Name.)”

You almost wished his insinuation was lost on you. It wasn’t, tragically, and you had to contend with the mortifying ordeal of flushing crimson and briefly debating on whether to say the first thing that came to mind, if nothing else to rile him up as much as he did you (‘Well, I wouldn’t oppose to the idea unless you did.’)

Damned banker and his damned dirty mind…

His fingers were still running over your little garden of embroidered flowers, eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners from the wideness of his smile. Abandoning any semblance of courtesy, you opened the door and gestured pointedly at him to leave. Your fear of the Harbingers seemed inconsequential compared to the sheer magnitude of the frustration they caused you. You could only maintain a façade of perfect grace for so long, after all.

“With all due respect, my lord”- (how wonderful you sounded without anything to filter your opinion of him in that moment. Even if said opinion was decidedly negative) – “I’d like you to leave. You’re disturbing me. And there’s a cursed redox apparatus I need to wake up at an ungodly hour to check on.” You muttered the last part testily under your breath, dragging a hand down your face and lamenting the fact you hadn’t waited until later to set it up.

“Come, now. Surely you won’t just kick me out like this?” Regrator implored, sounding more relaxed than upset. “The night is young. Let us at least have a proper conversation.”

How you longed to understand why he insisted on pestering you. Surely he had better things to do. Although, you mused to yourself as you openly sized him up, maybe he’ll leave if I talk to him. Just for a while.

“What would you have us speak of?” You asked wryly, folding your legs to perch cross-legged on your desk chair. “It doesn’t seem likely that we’ll find a shared topic of interest.”

“Why ever not?” He returned, raising his eyebrows. “Do you have such a negative impression of me that you think I can’t keep up with you in conversation?”

“Of course not. I never implied that, my lord.”

He laughed at your swift denial. Clearly you were still apprehensive of his status as a Harbinger, not that he blamed you.

“I hear you’ve received an invitation to the annual gala.”

Your face contorted at the reminder, brows drawing inwards and a frown tugging your lips further away from a smile as your jaw tensed.

“Ah, yes. I’d almost forgotten about that. Lady Eight was so kind as to invite me.” Your real meaning was clear despite the unwavering civility of your words: Lady Eight could very well eat her left shoe. Beautiful women can really get away with anything, you mused to yourself.

“Yet you seem less than overjoyed by the situation,” he remarked, sliding one of his rings up and down his finger as he watched you.

With a sigh, you rested your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands, proper posture be damned to the lowest ring of hell. “It’s just not my scene, I suppose.”

“Uncomfortable with large crowds of people?”

You scowled at the floor in response to his mocking tone. “Displeased by the public’s general idiocy, more like,” you muttered under your breath, hating the Regrator just a little more for coaxing you into revealing your weakness then taunting you for it.

The Regrator was beginning to think that he enjoyed your scorn even more than your artificial flattery. He’d be hard-pressed to think of a more artful way ridicule his opponent in a verbal altercation without being too direct and ruining the element of subtlety he so valued.

“But you’ll still be attending, no?”

“Unless divine intervention occurs for the first time in this century, yes, I will.”

“Good, good,” he all but purred, relaxing even further back in the armchair. You glowered at the floor. Your armchair. That he was sitting in. He effectively snapped you out of your trance of gradually building wrath with his next question.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance, when the gala does roll around?”

It took a moment of unconvinced staring for you to realise that he was, in fact, being serious.

“If you insist, my lord.” You were confident in your ability to sneak off and prevent such a thing from ever happening, in the unlikely scenario that he even remembered. He smiled entirely too cunningly for your liking, as though he knew exactly what you were planning. You shook off the feeling, rising to your feet when he did the same and throwing a mental celebration when he made his way to the door.

“Let’s not make this our last conversation,” were his parting words before he left. You consoled yourself with the fact that speaking to the Regrator was intellectually stimulating if nothing else, what with having to constantly dodge his questions and avoid offending him too much while making sure your own pride didn’t end up bruised. A raven warbled outside your window, and you cracked the window open despite the sigh of frigid air that sneaked its way into the room to feed it.

“Hello there, pretty,” you murmured, scattering an array of seeds and nuts across the windowsill and watching as the raven, one of the flock you’d so tenuously befriended, hopped across the stone and pecked at your offerings. You hadn’t expected them to be so open to human interaction, but the ravens were quite comfortable with waking you at dawn with their incessant squawking and arriving at your window in a flurry of black feathers to demand more food. You liked them, with all their melancholy glory and sharp little eyes and the symbolism of death they were so often associated with. There were worse visitors clad in ebony to have, you decided, an image of the Regrator appearing in your mind’s eye.

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