WIP Game!

WIP game!

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence as your heart desires?

Thank you, my Tumblr kindred spirits , @arcielee & @dreaming-for-an-escape, for this tag!

This is an excerpt of an Ikaris x Persephone!Eternal!Reader smut oneshot I am writing for Valentine's Day:

You went on with your explanation. “For so long, I have never felt this way. You- you aren’t the first person I’ve been with – romantically, at least – but I could never feel myself wanting to go further. It always felt like something was stopping me. For so long, I thought something was wrong with me. And then, after talking with Kaety and Phastos, I thought I might be asexual. But it hadn’t been until those moments we spent in the field outside the village that I- I felt a bond transform from friendship to what I didn’t realize to be love to- to this.” You stopped laughing and lifted your torso on one elbow to reach him. You cupped his face with one hand, and Ikaris nuzzled his face into your palm – welcoming the feel of your silky touch. In your eyes, there was enough love to make the world outside this room disappear. “I haven’t felt this way for anyone but you. It was such an unexpected surprise, but I wasn’t scared. I think it was because- well, despite everything, I never felt unsafe around you. Ikaris, the years I spent with you after Thanos’ Snap and before the Emergence were some of the happiest years of my life. I don’t think there are words to describe how much I love you.”

Is this more than one sentence? Yes, but I am very proud of it because I had to do a lot of research for it.

No pressure tags [but if this comes across your dash and you want to do it, tag me, I want to see what is to come 👀]: @valeskafics, @mitsuki91, @aphroditesmoon, @aemondsbabe, @axelsagewrites, @asa-do-your-thing

WIP game!

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence as your heart desires?

Thank you my Tumblr kindred spirits for the tag: @zae5 @anjelicawrites @targaryen-dynasty @barbieaemond @gemini-mama @itbmojojoejo @solisarium and @boundlessfantasy [cause it came across my dash and therefore counts]

This is the beginning of part 2 to Quietly, it slips through your fingers:

Aemond was poised in front of the fireplace, wearing cotton sleeping trousers and a tunic that was unbuttoned to his navel, his silver hair in a low braid and slung over one shoulder. A gold hue spilled from the hearth and washed over his practiced stoicism, with his one eye trained to the flames that were crackling and curling greedily around the blackened logs.  One hand was stretched on the armrest, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm to battle how his heart still rattled against his ribs; his other was bent, his fingers pressed into his prominent chin. He swore he could still smell the remnants of the heaven touched earlier, something both sweet and intoxicating, a phantom pulse around his fingertips; it was a taste of something that now consumed him wholly.

No pressure tags [but if this comes across your dash and you want to do it, tag me, I want to see what is to come 👀] @bhxrdy @poetic-fiasco @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @thought--bubble @ewanmitchellconnoisseur @foxyanon @snowprincesa1 @bucknastysbabe @fan-goddess @jacevelaryonswife @fanficapologist @cdragons 💜

"La Vie En Rose" - Ikaris x Eternal!Reader

Summary: You and Ikaris are finally ready to take a big step in your relationship. The two of you hare details about yourselves to really show how much you two have loved one another throughout your entire existence and since the failed Emergence.

Warning(s): MDNI 18+, very heavy smut in the beginning, loss of virginity, Persephone!Reader/Sephia is demisexual, spoilers, talk of WW2 and its aftermath, mention of suicide, Druig and Kaety are mentioned, almost character death, author tries to talk about music but has no musical background

Author's Notes: I think this might be the longest Ikaris oneshot ever on Tumblr, with a whopping 9.2k word count. For context, I would go to this masterlist, and read the very first post. I would like to thank Grammarly for making sure I don't write like a hill-billy. A huge thanks to @ethereal-athalia for her help. A lot of these ideas could not have been done without her input. I hope y'all have a wonderful Valentine's Day! I also plan to make a Valentine's Day for Druig x Hecate!Reader

Inside the Ritz’s Suite Chopin in Paris, clothes were sprawled across the room. Your dress had pooled on the ground where Ikaris zipped it off you as soon as the door closed. His suit jacket and tie had been removed before you two entered the room. Despite how frantic your movements may have seemed on the outside, you and your lover knew that this moment had been long overdue.

The blue rings in his eyes thinned as his pupils widened at the sight of your strapless bra with its matching lacy cheeky-cut underwear and garter belt. After you ripped his dress shirt and buttons flew across the room, you marveled at the mass of muscle and heavenly skin by softly revering his body with your touch.

You traced every scar and line on his body as if handling a priceless painting. Ikaris sharply hissed at the feeling of your feather touch ghosting over his body. He responded by lifting you in his arms and wrapping your legs above his hips while he kept a firm grip on your soft, ample bottom. He felt your muscles tense before relaxing, and your body melted into his embrace as if the two of you were bodies were born to be together.

“I love you,” he whispered with each kiss he pressed on your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Ikaris,” you panted, “don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”

Trailing kisses down your neck, your lover never took his lips off yours as he carried you across the living room to the boudoir covered with pomegranate flowers. Laying your body gently on the goose feather duvets, Ikaris stood utterly captivated by how your hair framed your face like an ethereal halo.

The sight was nothing short of heavenly.

The luminosity of the moonlight shining through the overhead window gave your form a celestial glow. Your divine figure, added with the contrast of colors from the blossoms on the stark bedspread, made him wonder if this was all a wonderful dream instead of his cruel reality.

Sensing his fear that you were only an illusion, you sat up and took Ikaris’ hand from his side to press a gentle kiss on his palm.

“Ikaris, I am here. I am with you. We are together – now and forever, forever and always.”

Overwhelmed with happiness, your immortal paramour felt a mountainous burden topple down as the relief of knowing this moment was not a figment of his imagination. His Adam’s apple bobbed as tears welled up in his iridescent blue irises.

Ikaris brought his other hand to cup your other cheek before lowering himself to plant a feathery kiss on your forehead. He closed his eyes – savoring the feel of your skin on his lips as he tried to memorize the scent of your hair with the fragrance of the pomegranate flowers surrounding you.

“Ikaris,” you softly begged, “please kiss me.”

And who was he to refuse such a sweet request?

Pressing his lips to yours, Ikaris felt you lower yourself until your back was fully pressed against the bedspreads underneath them. No matter how much his lungs clenched for air, he refused to part for even a breath of air. But you softly pushed him back. Ikaris opened his eyes – prepared to ask if you needed to stop. But he stopped himself at the sight of your lust-filled eyes with the blush on the apple of your cheeks. You reached behind your back and unclasped the hooks of your brassiere before removing the rest of your undergarments.

Time slowed down frame by frame as Ikaris watched you further reveal yourself to him. A part of your hair fell forward to cover your breasts as you lowered your head and fixated on your gaze on the silky scarlet petal of the flower you rubbed between your fingers. Scars and marks dotted your body from battles between deviants in the past. Ikaris knew he was the only man you let see so much.

You sighed as you couldn’t help but feel like shrinking into the shadows as he stared.

“I don’t…I know I’m not as pretty as most of the women you’ve slept with. My body is a bit…, and I’m not as willowy and lovely as Kaety or Sersi. Even Thena is so beautiful and strong. My hips have a weird dip and –” You felt like crying for ruining the moment. “I’m making this so awkward – I’m so sorry.”

Ikaris quietly sat across you for a moment. Then he tipped your chin, and you were forced to look at his stern expression but heated gaze.

“Sephia, your body…it’s lovely. There isn’t a woman or creature more beautiful than you.”

You scoffed inelegantly, but Ikaris shook his head.

“I’m serious. Sephia, I – everything about you is so mind-bogglingly wonderous and beautiful. I have thought so since we first met on the Domo. Who could possibly have given you the idea otherwise?”

You leaned into his chest and let out a deep sigh. “It was no one in particular. I just noticed that men continually gawked at my chest whenever we settled into a new location. They would always stare when I wasn’t looking. Sometimes, when they were drunk, they would tug on my dress and comment that I was either too big or too small. It’s why I preferred to wear their clothing. I thought I attracted too much attention from my Olympian Attire, so I hoped to be noticed less in their garbs. I tried telling Ajak, but she told me not to pay attention to their actions since they were only curious. But it didn’t stop until I told Kaety.”

Hearing your explanation, Ikaris’ hold on you tightened. Once more, he was in your friend’s debt. How dare those lowly men cause you so much strife? Had he known of your troubles, he would have ensured that those fools feared for their lives. But he knew if you were aware of his thoughts, it would only push you away – so he remained quiet.

Instead, he planted a gentle kiss on both of your cheeks and whispered to you how honored he was for this moment. His hands caressed your thighs, and he had your legs straddled on his hips as he made sure you were comfortable on his lap. He let you take the lead by wrapping your arms over his shoulders and groaned at the feeling of you pressing his chest against your bare bust.

The way he moaned your name made your stomach clench. “Sephia. Thank you. I will show you how beautiful to me– tonight and every night from now on if you’ll permit me.”

You nodded your head against the crook of his neck. You didn’t trust your voice to convey your love for the man with you tonight.

But Ikaris needed more. “Say it, Sephia. Look me in the eye and tell me if you want us to continue.”

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to show your trust. “I want you to continue.”

Bringing you in for a heated kiss, Ikaris and you explored each other’s bodies with your hands as your lips were locked in a familiar embrace. He then trails kisses down your chin and travels down your neck and across the tops of your breasts. You wondered if he could hear how hard your heart was beating against the confines of your rib cage as you panted for air.

Ikaris used one hand to cup one of your flushed breasts covered in love bites and kisses. On the other, he put his mouth on your puckered nipple and swirled his tongue around the areola.

You slowly rocked your hips and whispered for more. “Ikaris, Ikaris, Ikaris – more, more, please.”

Your body was his paradise, and you were his angel. Everything about you – the perfume of your skin, the silky luster of your hair, the addictive scent of your arousal – it was both all too much and never enough.

Switching breasts to continue his services, Ikaris wondered if he could get you to cum without directly touching you down there. He felt emboldened by the challenge with the breathless praises spilling from your lips that were swollen and red from his kisses.

He traveled down to your navel while continuing to trace his tongue and lips across your skin until he stopped at your navel. Dipping his tongue into your navel region, your initial reaction was a giggle, but then he used both of his hands to reach for your abandoned mounds to massage them. The rough calluses on his fingers gave way to new sensations unbeknownst to you, making your laughter change to moans.

Arching your back, you called out his name with your sweet voice. “Ikaris- Ikaris! It’s too…it’s too much!”

As you arched your back, you pushed your chest further into his hands. He tendered cupped them before giving them a hard squeeze and then used his fingers to pinch your nipples. Twisting and tugging them brought tears to your eyes as the pleasure from the attention he granted to your bosom with the swirling of his tongue in your navel.

The feel of Ikaris’ hot tongue contrasting with the cooling spit from his saliva only added to your rapture. You felt your stomach tighten into an invisible coil as you clawed and grasped onto the bed covers to ground you. The coil became tighter and tighter until your lips started to tremble as your core clenched around nothing, and your mouth opened to let out no noise as your vision went white. Your body squirmed, and you clamped your legs to unsuccessfully quell the sensations.

Ikaris’ mouth traveled down to your nether lips as he removed his hands from your breasts to spread your legs and put them over his shoulders. Although the sight of the Eternals’ strongest fighter between your legs was certainly an arousing view, you couldn't contain snorting at the absurdity of it all.

Your cerulean-eyed beloved raised a quizzical brow to showcase his offended feelings.

“And what, pray tell, do you find so amusing right now, flower?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“I’m sorry-” you couldn’t stop laughing “-I’m so sorry – I just never imagined being in this situation with you – with anyone.”

He gave you a flat look for you to continue.

You went on with your explanation. “For so long, I have never felt this way. You- you aren’t the first person I’ve been with – romantically, at least – but I could never feel myself wanting to go further. It always felt like something was stopping me. For so long, I thought something was wrong with me. And then, after talking with Kaety and Phastos, I thought I might be asexual. But it hadn’t been until those moments we spent in the field outside the village that I- I felt a bond transform from friendship to what I didn’t realize to be love to- to this.”

You stopped laughing and lifted your torso on one elbow to reach him. You cupped his face with one hand, and Ikaris nuzzled his face into your palm – welcoming the feel of your silky touch. In your eyes, there was enough love to make the world outside this room disappear.

“I haven’t felt this way for anyone but you. It was such an unexpected surprise, but I wasn’t scared. I think it was because- well, despite everything, I never felt unsafe around you. Ikaris, the years I spent with you after Thanos’ Snap and before the Emergence were some of the happiest years of my life. I don’t think there are words to describe how much I love you.”

It was only when you stroked your thumb on his cheek that Ikaris realized he was crying. As Ajak’s most trusted and loyal soldier, he had an image of stability to maintain. Before his suicide attempt in flying to the sun, he could count the number of times he cried throughout his life on one hand.

The first was when a deviant managed almost to sever his spine. The pain was so terrible. It took the efforts of Ajak and Kaetlyn to stop him from bleeding out and close the gash, but not without a garish scar across his back.

The second was when you left him and what remained of the team after Kaetlyn and Druig left in response to the genocide of Tenochtitlan citizens from Spanish conquistadors. He was hurt and felt betrayed. He called you weak and naïve to believe that you, Kaet, and Druig had better judgment than Arishem for humanity’s future. While your leaving broke his heart, his sobbing resulted from the pained look on your face from his words. He cried for three days after your departure.

The third time was after he killed Ajak. It broke his heart to kill the one he admired and followed for so long. She wanted to stop the Emergence and stop Arishem’s Grand Design of the birth of a new Celestial. But to do so was to condemn you to a slow and painful death, and Ajak knew that. The Avengers destroyed your regained health when they brought back the rest of humanity.

Ikaris knew that destroying the planet you loved so much would have brought you more pain than your illness, but it was humanity that weakened you so much from the beginning. If the Emergence must occur, Ikaris was sure he could ask Ajak to convince Arishem to allow him to keep his memories. If he had, he would have been able to love you from the beginning of everyone’s rebirth.

But he failed, and it nearly cost him you and your sister. The memory Druig implanted in his mind would haunt him forever. It was so unnatural to see Kaety so lifeless, so cold. The sight and Aisling’s screams with Laoise’s cries made it worse.

The fourth was when he stood before Sersi as her frame kneeled atop Tiamut’s emerging body. You lay unconscious as you allowed your new leader to use your cosmic energy to kill the infant Celestial but also to use your body as a medium to use the Celestial’s infinite amount of cosmic energy to revitalize the Earth. Standing in front of his sister as she kneeled next to your body, Sersi was ready to accept her death at her brother’s hand. But Ikaris could not steel his resolve to aim his heat vision at her heart.

He could not kill his sister – not when she was the one person he could ever love as much as he does you. She was the only person who trusted more than anyone in the world. She knew all his secrets and was the first to realize his love for you.

Just as Kaetlyn was your sister, Sersi was his. And so all he could do was let himself be used to destroy Tiamut, give one final goodbye to his sister, and give you one final kiss before he flew to the sun.

Your voice broke him from his thoughts. “Ikaris? Are you all right?”

“Yes, flower,” he answered with a smile. “Thank you.”

“‘Thank you?’ Whatever for?” Your confused expression was so utterly adorable.

“Everything, I suppose,” he said while shrugging. “Sephia, you said you never imagined making love to anyone for thousands of years. But for me, it was all I could think about with you. As I said that night on the balcony, ‘I was made to love you.’ And I will say these words and show you how much I mean them for however long you permit me.”

Your heart sang out to his at his sweet words. You reached to pull him down for a kiss before whispering in his ear.

“Ikaris, will you make love to me?”

“Yes,” came his immediate answer. “But first, I must prepare you.”

“Has that not been what you’ve been doing so far?”

Your immortal worshiper gave you a lascivious grin in response. “My petal, this had only been the beginning.”

Your hands clenched his hair in a feeble attempt to get him to ease Ikaris’ feasting. But all your actions brought were him spreading your legs further apart. The feeling of his tongue flitting over your clit as he drove fingers to furiously thrust inside your cervix to the point of making you weep in ecstasy.

It started with one, then it became two. Soon, he added the third, and the pain from the stretch quickly drove you to a state of nymphomania. It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, and it was far more intense than its predecessor. You felt your body spasm for a little bit before relaxing into the mattress as Ikaris languidly stroked your walls to carry out your climax for as long as possible.

This wasn’t the first time he had eaten you out, but it was the first time he could do so without interruptions.

As your essence spilled on his tongue, Ikaris let out an obtusely loud, close-mouthed groan, and its vibrations added to your overstimulation. Your body’s nectar was ambrosia worthy to be tasted only by gods. It was addictive enough for an Eternal such as himself to get drunk on it and crave its taste for all eternity.

He removed himself from the bed before frantically unbuckling his belt and stripping himself of his black slacks and boxer briefs. The way his shaft sprung out and its head hit Ikaris’ naval region made your eyes widen. It must have been around eight inches long, and the sight of it made you unconsciously clamp your legs close. It was pulsing dark pink with veins running along its length, and its head looked so swollen and red that it neared to purplish hue with a pearly white bead of precum leaking out.

You’ve seen corpses and anatomical diagrams. Kaety was the more explicit one out of the two of you. She had no qualms sharing even the most graphic details of Druig’s…thing.

But this was the first time you saw it in person, and you didn’t realize men could be so…big.

“Does it hurt…being like that?” you hesitantly asked as you reached forward to touch it. But he softly grasped your hand from getting too close.

Ikaris chuckled at your innocence. “It doesn’t hurt per se, but it is very sensitive. And if you touch it, I cannot promise you that I will last long enough to enjoy it.”

Kneeling on the bed, he carefully grabbed his length and positioned it just outside your soaking womanhood.

He cupped your cheek and brought your eyes to him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Don’t think about me. Do you want this?”

Looking into his eyes, you drowned in the overwhelming sea of love that was his beautiful blue eyes. You admit you still felt a twinge of fear. But more than fear, more than lust and desire, you felt safe. What you shared with Ikaris was more than how you ever hoped to feel with someone. It was real – what you shared with this man was true and went beyond physical attraction. Your bond with him had only grown stronger since his return; nothing would ever change that.

“I’m ready,” you whispered as you felt the increasing rate of your heartbeat. “I love you, Ikaris. With all of me.”

He positioned his cock until its head had just entered you. You sharply sucked in a breath.

“I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible. Take a deep breath if you need to. I won’t move until you feel like you’ve adjusted to it. We can go as slow or as fast as you want. I promise.”

“I know,” you replied. “I trust you.”

He gently pushed himself inside you inch-by-inch. The stretch of your walls around his manhood was almost painful. He was halfway inside you when you asked him to pause with two thin trails of tears running down your eyes.

“I just -” you gasped, “- I just need a minute.”

Ikaris softly stroked your cheek before catching a tear under your eye. “It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

When you nodded to show you were ready, Ikaris continued to insert himself inside you until he fully bottomed out slowly. When he reached his hilt, he let out a mighty groan and husky rasp as you took a sharp and loud intake of breath. Despite how well-lubricated you were, the stretching of your cervix to accommodate his size was more than you expected. Thankfully, your lover did not move for the sake of you being able to adjust to the feel of him inside your tight walls.

Ikaris propped himself on one of his elbows as he hovered above you. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his moans, but the feeling of him being swallowed by your warmth was more euphoric than he could ever dream it to be. He lowered his head enough to kiss away the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered so sweetly. “This discomfort will pass, my love. I will not move until you are ready.”

Thank the stars he prepped you earlier. If he hadn’t, you weren’t sure you would have been able to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It was the strangest sensation. You felt so full – as evidenced by the slight bulge protruding from your lower stomach – but the fullness was almost comforting.

It was evidence that you and your love joined bodies and became one.

You slowly wrapped your legs around Ikaris’ waist. Despite the discomfort, you wanted to feel as close and connected to the beautiful man hovering above you as possible. Soon, the pain lessened to a sting, and it dulled further before shifting to pleasure. It was not long before you craved the friction from Ikaris’ shaft moving inside you and slowly began grinding your hips against him to ease the ache inside you.

Ikaris could feel the fluttering of your cervix and your walls becoming more slick from your increasing arousal. Feeling your hips moving against him, he couldn’t stop the teasing leer at your squirming and the soft moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

“Does it feel good? I wonder how it would feel if I did this–” he pushed his hips to give a shallow thrust and reveled at the way your back was so beautifully arched.

Your cries were no longer laced with pain but adorned with shock from the unexpected pleasure.

“Oh? You like that?” he chuckled in smug amusement. “Fuck, your body is so responsive. You have no idea how much your sweet cries add to my ego.”

“I-Ikaris!” you stammered as you frantically moved your hips. “Please!”

“Please what, my flower?” he teased. “You know I can’t do anything until you provide explicit instructions.”

You wailed in frustration. “You know what I mean, you cruel man! I-I need you to m-move! I want to feel everything! PLEASE!”

Throwing all inhibitions to the wind, Ikaris gave you precisely what you wanted by giving hard, powerful drives. The squelch of your folds from each thrust was downright sinful and caused you to cry out his name. The slapping of his hips against your thighs, coupled with his gruff grunts and your high-pitched mewls, made for the most erotic symphony.

You felt so embarrassed by your reactions, but there was no use in holding back your reactions. You put your arm over your eyes to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Ikaris pinned it down to the side of your head. You opened your eyes to see if your lover was as out of control as you.

You were shocked to see how nearly black his eyes were, with almost no evidence of his lapis-lazuli irises. His lips had a thin, wet sheen of film covering them, and his hair was wholly tousled and unkempt from his usual militant style – a result of you running your fingers through it and yanking it.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cover your face,” he rasped. “I’ve waited for this moment for seven thousand years. All those years of watching those men stare at you with lustful eyes – every soldier, king, even fucking Thor. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it – what right did I have to do so? But tonight- tonight, I ensure that you will never want anyone else but me.”

You shook your head. “No…only you- I only want you, Ikaris. I swear!”

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he cooed. “You feel so perfect – gripping me so tight. Do you feel as good as I do, my flower? Can you feel how I was made for you? As you were made for me? Can you feel how greedy your cunt is for me – I fit so perfectly inside you.”

The euphoria between you two reached such a crescendo that your bodies were frantically rocking against each other at an erratic tempo. You reached forward to cling onto his shoulders as you brought him in a close embrace. The only thing that mattered to you was the man above you and the love overflowing between you. The only thing that mattered to Ikaris was the feeling of you under him and knowing this wasn’t a dream.

The rest of the world disappeared, and the noise from the festivities of the City of Lights became white noise. The only sounds you could register in your lust-hazy mind were Ikaris’ hoarse groans and hushed gasps. The only sounds Ikaris could hear while in his bliss-intoxicated state were your breathless whimpers and sharp cries.

The two of you looked less like the gods humanity regaled in myths and legends and more akin to wild beasts. The sight of your legs tightly wrapped around Ikaris’ waist and the vulgar rings of the slapping of skin from him pounding into you was sinful. The feel of your full and soft breasts rubbing against his hard pecs only heightened the pleasure.

The familiar coil in your stomach returned, and its intensity was reaching a point of almost unbearable pleasure. All you could do was continue to cling to your lover with your nails dragging down his back as he continued to slam into you. Ikaris cursed under his breath at the feeling of your nails scraping long red marks on the skin of his back. He felt your walls start to tighten to show that you were reaching your peak. He increased his tempo to a relentless pace as he felt your walls continue to grip him.

With his newfound vigor, you became all the more aware of how he dragged each and every inch of his cock in and out of you. Your cunt wept at the way his new pace made you stretch even wider to accommodate for all of him. His rough patch of curls around the base of his cock hitting your swollen clit made your mind go blank.

“Ikaris!” you wailed. “Slow – slow down! I think – I think I’m going to – oh, FUCK!”

“Let go, Sephia,” Ikaris grunted. “I want to feel your cunt gripping my cock. I want to feel your walls creaming around me as your womb begs for my cum to fill so much that it leaks.”

Refusing to part from you, he snaked his arm to the space between your legs to press your swollen clit. The pressure from his fingers pinching your nub broke the dam inside you as your juices sprayed and soaked Ikaris’ manhood and naval region. Your back arched, and your legs trembled while the rest of your body pathetically spasmed from the intensity of your release. Your vision went white, and your mind was filled with blissful static as drool dribbled out of your mouth, hanging open at the sheer shock from the release of pressure.

When you came around him, Ikaris gripped the sheets so hard that he heard a faint rip as he felt a mass of textiles clump in his hand. If the fluttering of your cunt was heavenly, then the feeling of your walls clenching so hard around him as you sprayed your essence around him was euphoria. Using both hands, he unhooked your legs around his waist and spread them wide apart until your feet dangled by his head. The new position allowed him to reach so deep in you that he felt the tip of his shaft hitting the entrance of your womb.

He chased the end of his release as you senselessly babbled – your mind was too far gone from your climax, and all you could do was take all of him until he was done himself. It was not long until he felt his body tense, and he thrust himself into you to the hilt and came with a thunderous shout that echoed with your loud cries. The shift of all his weight ramming into the warm and wet hole that greedily latched onto him brought you a new sensation so pleasurable that it rocked on the edge of pain. The spilling of his hot seed inside your womb made you further cling onto him as tears streamed down your cheeks – as if melding your bodies into one being.

Ikaris completely let go of all of his tensions as he lay on top of you – panting for air. Your heart was racing as you tried to catch your breath. For a few minutes, the two of you only wanted to bask in the feel of you together in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

Not wanting to crush you with his weight, Ikaris gently tried to pry himself off you. He thought it would be best to grab a wet rag to help clean you or at least give you some water, but you refused to let go.

“I like feeling you inside me,” you whispered, your voice was a bit hoarse from your screams and cries.

His voice sounded more gruff than usual as he chuckled. “You shouldn’t say such things unless you’re prepared for another round. And by the looks of it, I think you’ve had enough for one night – especially for your first time.”

Ikaris stroked your cheek as he smiled at the sight of you. Your hair was tousled, and your skin was flushed to a lovely hue. There was not a patch of your neck that was not completely littered with red splotches from his bites and kisses. Your eyes were wet from the tears that streamed down your cheeks, and there was a small trail of drool from your mouth.

You were the very image of erotic perfection – only to ever be seen by him.

“…Was it good?” he hesitantly asked. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…at peace,” you replied after a few moments of thinking. “I don’t really feel any different from before. I certainly wouldn’t object to doing it again. But I just feel…content- and happy. Does that make sense?”

You felt your love’s feather-soft lips press against your hairline. “Yes, it does. But are you sure you don’t want to clean yourself? I know your thighs will feel…sticky in the morning if we don’t wipe it off.”

You shook your head. “No, I just want you here with me.”

“At least let me get you a glass of water,” he reasoned. “Believe me when I say you’ll be grateful for it in the morning.”

“Fine,” you relented with a pout. “Hurry back.”

He lowly chuckled as he lowered himself to plant a soft kiss on your temple.

When Ikaris returned with your water, he found you bundled under a cocoon of the bed’s sheets and covers. Shaking his head in amusement, he placed the glass on the nightstand on your side of the mattress. He carefully lifted the covers, not to wake you from your well-deserved slumber, and crawled under them before gently shifting your body in his arms.

As Ikaris closed his eyes and felt the beckoning lull of slumber reach him, he swore he could hear the tune of a trumpet blowing as a rich timber voice sang a familiar song that held a special place in his heart.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

With a peaceful smile on his face, Ikaris dreamt of a dear memory. It happened in Paris only over seventy years ago. He recalls the day he first heard the phrase ‘rose-colored glasses’ as if it were only yesterday. Unbeknownst to him, you were playing the same memory in your sleep.

Paris in February 1948 was a less-than-ideal time. The weather was dismal, and the air was filled with smog and cigarette smoke. The snow surrounding him more resembled ash blown from a forest fire than frozen ice particles falling from the heavens. People were still hurting from the losses they suffered in the war. The industry was ruined, food was severely rationed, and housing was in short supply. The once luminescent City of Lights and her people were living in misery.

But Ikaris’ longing to see you was greater than his misery.

You had been visiting the graves of soldiers and victims across France every February since the signing of the Paris Peace Treaties in 1947. While there were thousands of unmarked graves, you knew the names of each fallen soldier and nameless body. The Earth whispered each person's tale as their blood spilled to the ground. You would breathe their name to a single red poppy before laying the bloom on the ground. It was too little while also being too late, but you wanted to show your thanks.

Your heart ached at the thought of anyone crossing over without someone remembering them. You walked these hallowed grounds because these brave men and women had fought for that privilege. You walked to honor and thank them.

It was what Kaety and Phastos would have wanted. It was what James would have wanted.

Feeling a sudden shift in the air, you did not need to look to know who had joined you.

“Hello, Ikaris,” you greeted your friend while still kneeling on the ground. “What brings you here?”

“I just wanted to see you,” he replied. “Is that not what friends do?”

You bitterly laughed under your breath. You finally stood from the ground to face your old “friend.” It hurt to see how beautiful he remained despite how he impassively stared at you – as if you meant nothing to him.

“Are we still friends?” you asked. “After everything?”

If your questions hurt him, Ikaris had not let it be shown. But he at least had the decency to soften his tone and look down at his feet, slightly admonished.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he answered. He looked up to face you once more. “Sephia, I…I missed you.”

A new wave of tears threatened to spill as you scoffed at his words.

“Cruel man,” you inwardly wept. “Cruel, cruel man.”

“Forgive me for my reaction,” you scornfully replied. “But I find that a bit hard to believe, considering how we left things between us last time.”

The last time you had seen Ikaris was over fifty years ago when he visited you in the small open field outside Kaety and Druig’s commune. It was your usual meeting place for the past two centuries. It was close enough to the village that Kaety still felt your presence but far enough to ensure your meeting remained private.

The first time he came, you were so happy to see Ikaris. You were terrified at the idea of him forever hating you for joining Kaety and Druig in seclusion. He had criticized you for going against Arishmen’s orders. He told you it mattered little of what you and Kaety did – humanity was doomed to fail.

The last you heard from Kingo was that Ikaris had disappeared from Earth. No one had seen him since Ajak sent all of you away – not even Sersi or Sprite.

His reaching out to you over everyone else meant so much to you. Perhaps it was selfish, but it made you happy to know your talks and meetings with Ikaris were done without anyone’s knowledge. Not even Kaety knew of his presence. You two would talk about the world that was changing around them while reminiscing about the world that had passed.

With each talk, you felt your bond with your friend strengthen. With each meeting, your attachment to Ikaris became more profound as you often craved to see him just hours after he left. Your feelings grew to the point where you could no longer contain them. It felt like you had laid your entire heart on the line.

“Would you stay here?” you softly asked. “Would you stay here with me?”

And then he left, leaving you in the field by yourself.

“Did you hate the idea–” you hastily inhaled to stop your voice from breaking “– of staying here so much? Could you really have not found any joy in what I do here for those people?”

Ikaris reached out to hold you in his arms.

“No,” he whispered in your hair. “No, Flower, that’s not it. I swear… I swear that’s not it.”

He should not have come. If he were a better man, he would have let you hate him until you could forget him. But he knew you were alone, and his selfishness won out in the end.

“Then why?” you cried. His shirt muffled your words, but your voice broke his heart. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you come back? Every year, I waited in that field! Because I thought our friendship meant something to you! But you never came!”

“Sephia,” he explained, “I could have never been who you needed me to be for those villagers. I have nothing to offer them but my combat skills.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “Everything you told me that night – you were right. It doesn’t matter what any of us do. Humans will destroy everything themselves. Just look where we are now.”

You and he looked at the thousands of white crosses that stood from the ground. You still had nightmares about the bodies surrounding you as hundreds of soldiers entered your tents – only to pass away from their fatal injuries. So many graves without names were men and women you treated before you had to bury them.

Kaety still woke up every night screaming at the horrors and abuse of the victims of Unit 731. What remained of the records of Ishii Shiro and his use of anthrax and the plague as biological warfare would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her thrashing had almost gotten to the point where she ordered Druig to sedate her if she ever accidentally hurt herself or him.

Phastos was practically left in a continuous catatonic state after leaving the site of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But during the times he came back, he could only weep out apologies to the millions of victims for his interference with humanity’s technology from the beginning.

“Was everything we thought we were building for nothing?” you asked. “Was this planet and its people doomed from the start?”

Ikaris only stood silently. He wondered if he was more cruel not to tell you the truth of Arishem’s grand plan after Ajak told him so long ago. But he wanted to see your smile for however long he had left. You were so proud of your creations, and rightfully so. Not knowing what else to do, he figured to let his actions speak more than his words.

“Can I show you something?”

He took you in his arms when you nodded. He lifted the two of you to a dark alley in Paris next to the Seine. The lights surrounding them with the people walking along the river bank made the night cold winter night less cold and desolate than the hopelessness you felt in your heart.

It was a pretty sight, but the view couldn’t have been the only reason why Ikaris brought you here.

“Look around you.” He spread his arms to emphasize his point. “What do you see?”

“…Litter and pollution?”

“Besides that.”

You tried to look harder. “Ummmm…people?”

“Exactly, people who are alive. A florist who sells flowers in the spring to young lovers because she wants to share the fruits of your labor with the world. Families who tour the Gardens of Versailles because they want to bask in the splendor.”

You understood Ikaris’ point. You were the one who tried to explain it all to him for so long, but everything seemed so hopeless now.

“Sephia,” he spoke your name to break you from your thoughts. “What you brought into this world was not for nothing. It never was. You are why people can find beauty and joy in the simplest pleasures.”

You wanted to say something – anything. But words failed to come to you. They always had during the most important events. Suddenly, you heard the melody of one of France’s favorite songs creep into your ear. You felt your Ikaris softly grasp your hand as he gently led the two of you to the direction of the melody.

It was a mixed jazz band playing in the middle of a packed Place Vendôme. They were playing La Vie En Rose.

The symphony of clarinets and flutes made for a beautiful melody. The saxophone altos, French horn, and trombone gave the song a homophonic texture. But the real star of the ensemble was the trumpet. It added a sense of joy and lightheartedness that so deeply contrasted the past decade.

“A favorite demon of yours told me this song was all the rage in France a few ago,” he quipped. “Care to show me why?”

You rolled your eyes. “You really need to stop calling Kaety that. She’ll bite your head off for being unable to think of a new nickname after seven thousand years.”

Ikaris took a few steps forward before turning to you and held out his hand. You only stared at it before realizing the meaning of his gesture. You stared at his face with wide eyes and a gaped mouth to represent your shock.

“You,” you choked out, “want to dance? In the middle of the square?”

Ikaris only shrugged. “Why not?”

“But…but, there’s just – there’s so many people around!” you stammered.

“That’s never stopped you before in Reykjanesskagi.”

“That was during the Maiden’s Day festival!”

“You know, you’re starting to hurt my feelings with how long you’ve kept my arm like this.”

You huffed out a breath in annoyance before you reluctantly reciprocated the gesture. Ikaris must have known that you wouldn’t refuse a dance, especially a dance to one of your favorite songs. You hated bringing attention to yourself, but you loved to dance. You didn’t know what it was – but you could always lose yourself in the notes as your body moved in tandem with the tune. Whenever there was a festival or celebration in any city where the Eternals were stationed, you and Kaety would disguise yourselves as peasants or low-born nobility to fade into the background. So often, you would lose yourself in joy that you would accidentally make flowers bloom around you, even in the harshest winters.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche Voilà le portrait sans retouches De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

Ikaris pulled you close to his chest. One hand was placed on the small of your back while one of your hands clutched on his shoulder. But the other was firmly clasped in his other hand. Before you began, you saw a few other pairs sway to the band. It eased your nerves to know that you and he were the only pair dancing in the historical square.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Everyone around you seemed to be dancing in slow, expressive, rhythmic steps, resembling an American-style bolero. Given the time and place, it was only natural that Ikaris took the lead. You were prepared to offer instructions, but he surprised you again by showing how comfortable he was in the role and steps.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you remarked.

Ikaris looked slightly embarrassed as his cheeks reddened. “Sersi taught me. She basically threatened to castrate me if I refused to dance at a speakeasy we frequented in New York in the 20s.”

“Sersi?” you snorted out as he spun and dipped you. “Sersi threatened you? Our Sersi? Lying is a very unbecoming quality, Ikaris. I didn’t think you’d be one to develop it.”

“Oh, if only I could make up such a tale,” replied Ikaris as he grabbed your waist before lifting you without struggle. “Sersi’s can be downright terrifying if she wants to be. Ask Kingo – he’s the only other person who’s seen her like that.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling out of your throat. And as the band continued to play, you and Ikaris swayed, dipped, and spun for hours. Over three hours had passed by the time the band was finished for the night. When you stopped, all you could do was stare into your friend’s eyes in a rose-hued haze before a thunderous round of applause broke you out of your dreamlike state and into reality. A sizable crowd had surrounded the two of you – hoots, hollers, and whistles accompanied the applause. Your impromptu performance enchanted men, women, children, and even pets.

“Bisou!” called out from a random face in the crowd. It wasn’t long before the call became a chant.

“Bi-sou! Bi-sou! Bi-sou! Bi-sou!”

Feeling suddenly emboldened, you cupped your Ikaris’ face and kissed his cheek softly. The following whistles and cheers would have made you wish to disappear – had it not been for the sweet peck Ikaris placed between the furrow of your brow.

All of a sudden- without even knowing it at the time- the world seemed brighter, and the air started to smell like roses.

Ikaris woke up to the feeling of gentle poking on his cheek. Hearing the swallows sing and feeling the warm sunlight on his skin, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace. He turned his body in your direction before opening his eyes. He was immediately blessed with your bright eyes and sweet smile. Raking his eyes down your body, it looked like you wore his dress shirt from last night.

He adored the way it draped over your curves – especially with how it showed off your legs.

“Are you ready for your Valentine’s Day present?” you asked with poorly contained excitement. Judging by how your smile went ear-to-ear, you practically bounced out of your skin.

Ikaris furrowed his brows in puzzlement. “Was last night not my present?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why would sex be your present? I thought I made it pretty clear that I hadn’t expected the night to turn in that direction.”

“Well then,” he chucked in amusement over your flushed cheeks and pout, “what is my present?”

Your eyes shone in delight as you lightly kicked your feet against the mattress. “You’ll have to get out of bed for that! Come on!”

You dashed into the next room while Ikaris wrapped the sheets around him before locating his briefs and grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants in his luggage. Once putting them on, he stretched out his back and arms from behind the balcony window before opening it and letting in some air to freshen the room.

When he crossed to the piano room, he was mildly surprised when he saw you seated at the pianoforte. You pressed the keys to carefully listen if the instrument needed any additional tuning. Satisfied that the pitch wasn’t flat, you turned to Ikaris, who was leaning under the doorway.

“Are you ready?” you asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

You positioned your fingers over the right keys while straightening your posture. Clearing your throat, you began to play at Adagio. Your body swayed to the melody as if you had become one with the instrument. Every key you lovingly caressed let out a note sounding so beautifully as if the music came alive just for you. You closed your eyes before you began singing.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche Voilà le portrait sans retouches De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Ikaris’ eyes widened. Were you playing…had you –

But his thoughts were interrupted as your rich singing broke through his stupor. Your sweet voice was soaked in honey and laced with the roses from the song.

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause

For a moment, Ikaris truly hated that his French wasn’t as proficient as yours. Had it been, he would have been able to appreciate your singing that rivaled the voice of angels properly. Was it possible for one to sound as rich and effortlessly fluid as sweet syrup?

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

Et dès que je l'aperçois Alors je sens dans moi Mon cœur qui bat

Your fingers lightly danced along the keys to give your voice a brief intermission. And for a few moments, it felt like Ikaris’ soul had returned to his body. And although he expected you to stop, you began to sing the English translation.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me, heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

Whereas the original French version required a slower and softer pace to grasp the ballad's meaning and beauty, the English version required a slightly quicker tempo. It brought a more joyful mood and tone compared to the lovely but melancholic French version.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

When you finished, Ikaris was once more completely and utterly entranced. You turned to face him with hopeful eyes. You long memorized this song since that night in Paris over seventy years ago. When you began to learn how to play the piano, you did it because you never wanted to forget the ballad’s meaning and how it touched your heart from that night on.

“You once asked me why this song was so popular,” you began to explain. “Édith Piaf wrote ‘La Vie en Rose’ in 1945 and released it as a single in 1947. The song’s popularity quickly reached global success as jazz artists began to sing its covers. Louis Armstrong played it on March 2, 1948 – at the same Jazz Festival you took me in Salle Pleyel.”

You stood up as you tenderly traced a single black key that released a soft C sharp when you pressed it.

“As you remember, all of Europe was in chaos and misery after the war. Everyone lost someone fighting. So many men and women who returned became shells of themselves. People were starving and homeless from the constant airstrikes. But Édith wrote this song to remind Paris to never lose sight of the happy times and good things in life. You shouldn’t forget the bad times, but you also shouldn’t forget to look at life without seeing the beauty of everything around you.”

You walked towards Ikaris before standing before him and wrapping your arms around him. You laid your cheek against his chest and smiled at his beating heart's steady and strong rhythm.

“That night- when we danced at the Place Verdôme- the song they played was stuck in my head for months. Whenever I felt sad or disheartened, I would put on the record I bought to listen to it. I know you have your doubts about humanity. You always had them, as had I. We were never the ones who loved humankind, especially after the atrocities they had committed. I hated what they did to the Earth, how much they polluted it, but – Oh, Ikaris. I made you cry again.”

Touching his cheek, Ikaris realized that he was indeed crying. That’s twice in less than twelve hours, a new record. Just what in Arishem’s name had you done to him?

He shook his head. “Never mind my tears. Continue.”

“Listening to that song, I finally realized why so many of our family kept faith in humankind. Kaety and Druig have their twins and remain in their village. Phastos and Ben have Jack. Sersi has loved and lost more than any of us, first with Jane, but now she’s with Dane. Kingo lives among them effortlessly and adores them. Even Makkari remains joyful because she keeps looking at life and seeing its beauty.”

You paused for a moment before standing only tip-toes to press a kiss on his nose.

“Ikaris, you don’t care much for humans. But that night, you reminded me why I did what I did in the war. You reminded me that there will always be people who will take comfort in the most simple pleasures- a rose’s bloom, the crisp bite of an apple, or even the sound of a child’s heartbeat. So, for just a few minutes, I wanted to give something to you the way you have for me.”

Words failed to convey the love Ikaris felt for you. All he could do was tightly hold you in his arms and never let go. For the first time since he came back, he felt it was alright to love you. That he wouldn’t pollute or ruin you the way he had done with everything else in his life so many times. Ikaris knew that it was his destiny to love you. But you- you chose him. You chose to love him. And that fact alone was enough to make him die without regrets.

“I hope children have your voice,” he murmured into your hair before facing you with wet eyes. “And I hope that they have your heart.”

He cupped your cheek, and you kissed his palm softly. “Only if they have your eyes and your art skills.”

Ikaris must have heard you sing your rendition of ‘La Vie en Rose’ a million times. You sang and taught it all your children— Laurie, Aggie, and Ari – on the piano or tucking to bed. But that first time he heard you sing it- that morning when the sun pooled into the room as pink roses and red asters suddenly bloomed- that will always be his favorite.

Thank you if you if finished the story! Let me know if you enjoyed it, and make sure to like, comment, and reblog!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @lexyysworld, @hypnoticmistake, @jolixtreesunn, @tess-love, @she-wintersoldat, @vikingqueen28, @lilacliquors, @beananacake, @tesha-i-guess, @littledoveofchaos, @atjsgf, @littlewitchoftheweast, @fireinmoonshot

Let me know if the comments if you want to be included in future Eternals posts!

After I finish my current Saltburn fic? Does anyone have any ideas for Dark!Felix x reader ideas?

I have another idea in the works of dark/toxic!Felix with ex!Reader

I am also be open to writing dark!Oliver x Reader once I am don’t with the fic I’m writing currently.

Let me know in my ask box!

*boops your nose* send this to ten blogs you think are lovely and deserve a boop on the nose. 🩷💋

I boop you back, my darling! Thank you for all the support you have given me!

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

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[series masterlist] to build a home - gojo satoru

series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them.  the catch being she couldn’t tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great.  keeping the secret isn’t the hard part, it’s lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately. ___ [ introduction ] “Find The Star Plasma Vessel” 

[ one ] “Cigarettes and Other Things That Kill You” [ two ] “Playing Games Of Levitation”  [ three ] “Learning to Lie” [ four ] “Megumi and Tsumiki” [ five ] “Quality Time” [ six ] “I Held On As Tightly As You Held Onto Me” [ seven ] “Shikigami” [ eight ] “Bury A Friend”  [ nine ] “Retirement”  [ ten ] “Cursed Tool” [ eleven ] “Brazil” [ twelve ] “Those Who Regret, Those Who Defect, and Those Who Deflect” [ thirteen ] “Melt My Soul” [ fourteen ] “The Beginning Of The End Of All Things” [ fifteen ] “The Whole Truth” [ sixteen ] “The True End”

[epilogue] “For You, For Me”