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Society Folklore
@societyfolklore
'Society' | She/Her | 30's
Safe space for feelings, chaos & thirsty writing
Adult (18+) fic writer (MDNI)
Marvel & more
Ask box open! Happy to chat, take request or scream together into the void
Most works are 18+/or aimed at that audience. Please take note of warnings within individual stories.
(Do not copy, translate, x-post onto other platforms)
AO3 Is here
Warnings: Flirting, party setting, cocky Chase, suggestive banter
Words: 298 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 8th - “I feel a premonition.”
The party had spilled through the old house like smoke.
People crowded the kitchen, hallway, stairs. Music shook the floorboards, beer went warm in abandoned cups, and Chase Collins leaned beside you like the room had been built for him to look bored in.
“You keep staring at the door,” he said.
You took a sip from your cup. “thinking about leaving...”
His smile curled, slow and pleased. “That can be arranged.”
“With you?” You raised an eyebrow
“Obviously.” He shrugged
You rolled your eyes, which only encouraged him. Chase shifted closer, shoulder brushing yours, the scent of expensive cologne cutting through cheap beer and old wood. He had been doing this all night: appearing at your elbow, making lazy comments, looking at you like he already knew how the evening ended.
It was infuriating.
Mostly because your eyes kept betraying you. His mouth when he smiled. His hands around his cup. The easy line of his throat when he tipped his head back to laugh.
Mostly because he was starting to look right.
“I’m not going home with you, Collins.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“Maybe.” His grin widened. “Maybe I was being gentlemanly and waiting for you to suggest it.”
“Unlikely.”
“Ouch.” He faked hurt
“You’ll recover.”
His gaze dipped to your mouth, quick enough to deny if you called him on it, obvious enough to make your pulse trip.
Then he looked toward the door, humming like he had just solved a problem.
“I feel a premonition.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Do you?”
“Strong one.” He leaned down, voice warm against your ear. “You, me, leaving this incredibly disappointing party in the next five minutes.”
Warnings: Married fluff, interrupted intimacy, parenting chaos
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles connected to this and this
Prompt: June 9th - “Like when you said you felt so happy you could die.”
Bucky kissed you like the morning would go on forever. Slow. Warm. With just that little bit of hunger behind it, his hand holding your cheek and the other curled around your hip, dragging you closer under the blankets. His hair was sleep-mussed, his jaw rough against your cheek. But when he made that low, pleased sound when your fingers slipped into it, you almost moaned.
“Door’s locked?” he murmured against your mouth.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Kids still asleep?”
“Should be.” That was as far as hope got.
Something crashed down the hall. A small voice shouted, “I didn’t do it!”
A second voice immediately yelled, “YES YOU DID!”
You and Bucky froze, mouths still touching.
Then came a thump.
Silence….The terrible kind.
Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose. “Nope.”
“Nope,” you agreed, already laughing into his shoulder.
He rolled onto his back with the long-suffering sigh of a man denied by his own offspring far too many times. “Remember how excited we were when they were on the way?”
You propped yourself up on one elbow, grinning. “Like when you said you felt so happy you could die?”
“Yeah.” He stared at the ceiling. “Turns out that feeling isn’t infinite...” he joked
You smacked his chest, laughing. “Bucky.”
“What? I love them. I would die for them.” Another suspicious bang sounded. His eyes closed. “I just didn’t think it’d hoping death would be before breakfast.”
You kissed his shoulder. “We’ll be sorry when they’re older and don’t need us.”
His expression softened at that, even as another shout echoed down the hall.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We will.”
Then something shattered.
Bucky sat up quickly. “But today ain’t that day.”
You watched him grab sweatpants, grumbling as he went.
“Remember we love them!” You called as he went out the door.
Warnings: Flirting, con artist charm, abandoned blind date, sensual tension
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 6th - “I don’t think I caught your name.”
The second time you checked your phone, the man at the end of the bar noticed.
The third time, he smiled into his drink like he already knew the ending.
By the fourth, you hated him a little.
Not because he was wrong. Because he was beautiful enough to make being right look effortless. Dark jacket. Open collar. One hand curled around a glass he barely drank from, watching the room like it owed him money.
Your blind date was thirty-seven minutes late.
Forty, when the man finally slid onto the stool beside you.
“Tell me he’s dead,” he said.
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Only acceptable excuse. Dead, kidnapped, or trapped in an elevator with a priest and a medical emergency.”
Despite yourself, you laughed.
His smile sharpened. “That's the smile...”
“I don’t know you.”
“No,” he agreed, gaze dropping briefly to your untouched drink, then back to your face. “But I know a woman deciding whether to be embarrassed or furious, and I’d recommend furious. It suits the dress better.”
Heat touched your cheeks.
You should have dismissed him. You should have ignored the easy lean of his body toward yours, the warmth in his voice, the way his attention felt like a hand at the small of your back.
Instead, you said, “And what do you recommend after furious?”
“Leaving.”
“With you?”
“To somewhere with better lighting and worse decisions.”
Your pulse betrayed you.
He stood, offered his hand, then nodded toward your bag. “May I?”
You hesitated only long enough to make him grin.
Outside, the night air cooled your cheeks. He carried your bag like it belonged to him, walking beside you as if the evening had always been arranged this way.
Writer’s relay is a collaborative writing game spanning over 7 weeks. You can write for any Anthony Mackie, Chris Evans, or Sebastian Stan characters.
Based on your preferences, you will be working in a team of three to write a story. This year the stories have to follow a 2+1 format.
For example - Two times she almost confessed + the one time he did.
You choose a prompt as a team. We will give you a set of prompts to choose from as well.
Timeline
June 20: Sign-ups open
July 2: Sign-ups close
July 6: Prompts Posted
July 10: Matches go out
July 11- July 18: Teams connect and plot
July 18: Send in your writing line-up, and fic masterpost
July 19- Aug 1: First sprint
Aug 2 - Aug 16: Second sprint
Aug 17 - Aug 31: Third sprint
Before sign-ups open, we encourage you to reblog and share this announcement :)
How it works
Sign up and indicate your preferences
We match you up with two other writers.
You will have one week to pick your prompt, brainstorm and plot, and choose the order in which your team will write.
Please let us know your writing line-up before the start of the writing period.
Each member of the team has to contribute a chapter with a minimum of 1000 words and a maximum of 5000.
The writing will go in 2 week sprints. The first person in the line-up will have 2 weeks to write and post their chapter. And then the next person goes, and so on.
You may post before the end of your 2 week sprint if you are ready. Then the next person will have 2 weeks from the day it was posted to write and post their part of the story.
You may continue to chat and work with your teammates during the writing period.
Please see acceptable fanworks guidelines for what is allowed.
Posting
You may post your story on Tumblr or AO3 (recommended)
If you choose to post on Tumblr, one of your team members must create a Masterpost with all your team members tagged as well as stubs for the chapter link before the start of the writing sprint.
If you post on AO3, please make a Tumblr post linking to the fic when the first chapter is posted.
Each chapter gets its own post and please tag us when it is posted along with the next person in your line-up to pass the “baton” to them..
Extensions and Pinch Hits
You may request for an extension as early as 4 days before the end of your sprint. You can get a maximum extension of 7 days. Please communicate this as early as you can.
Life happens and if you need to drop out, that’s totally fine. Please let us know as soon as you can so we can assign a pinch hit writer.
Please do not drop out without communicating with the mods. You will not be allowed to participate in the next writer’s relay or Star and Shield Collective events for a year. You can still participate in the monthly challenges.
If you are assigned as a pinch hit, you will have 2 weeks to write and post the part of fic you’re assigned.
Dividers by @uzmacchiato | About Star and Shield Collective
Warnings: Melancholy, vampires, depressive thoughts, hunger/feeding mention
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 9th - Somebody That I Used To Know – Gotye/ “You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.” (Set 1890’s)
Adam found you because of the poems.
Not the address. Not the letters you had stopped answering. The poems.
They had been appearing in little publication under names no one else would know were yours, each one thinner than the last. Hungrier. Beautiful enough to make something in him go still.
So he came.
The room you called home sat above a pawnshop, narrow and damp, its window blacked out. Paper covered every surface. Floorboards. Desk. Bed. Some pages had been written over until the ink bled into a mess of colour.
You sat in the middle of it, barefoot, hair undone, fingers stained dark to the knuckles.
“You need to go outside,” Adam encouraged.
You did not look up. “Need to finish.”
“You need to feed.”
Your quill paused.
A carriage rattled past below, wheels hissing through rain. Living hearts moved under umbrellas in the street, war, foolish and full. You could hear them. Of course you could.
“I don’t feel like eating.”
Adam stepped over pages, careful not to crush a single word. “Poet.” Warning clear.
You smiled faintly at the name, though it did not reach your eyes. “Don’t look so grave. It’s only ink.”
“It is not only ink.”
No. It wasn’t.
Sorrow did.
It was what filled your veins now. Not blood. Not hunger. The stuff pouring from a wound you could not close and had stopped trying to hide.
“You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness,” you started. “It feeds the muse better than blood ever could.”
Adam crouched before you, pale, still as a saint carved from marble. “And what does it leave behind?”
Your fingers tightened around the quill. “Something worth reading,” you whispered.
His gaze softened with terrible understanding.
“That is not the same as something worth preserving.”
Warnings: Weapons deal, threat/intimidation, dark flirting, dangerous tension
Words: 270 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 8th - Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin/ “Like a bullet to your brain.”
The warehouse smelled like oil, saltwater..
You had brought August Walker for one reason.
Not to negotiate. Not to charm.
He was there to stand behind you and make your words heavier.
Instead, he stepped forward.
“The price doubled,” he announced loudly
Every head turned.
Your smile stayed fixed, but something cold slid neatly into place behind your ribs.
Across the warehouse, the broker stilled. His men did too. August remained calm, broad and silent now, like he had not just taken a knife to weeks of careful work.
You let the quiet stretch until it became painful.
Then you looked up at him.
“Did I ask you to speak?”
His gaze cut to yours. “I’m handling it.”
“No,” your voice soft enough that others couldn’t hear. “You’re failing at the one job I brought you here to do.”
A muscle jumped in August’s jaw.
“Back off,” he murmured, not looking away. “Unless you want to burn every bridge in this room.”
You smiled then, slow and sharp.
“If I have to do your job for you, Walker, will be messy, like a bullet to your brain messy.”
The threat settled between you.
His eyes darkened, not with fear. You would have been disappointed if it were fear.
No, August looked at you like he was deciding whether to kill you or kiss you.
One of the broker’s men shifted.
August’s hand moved first, barely lifting his jacket to reveal the gun at his ribs.
The room froze.
You did not look away from him, this was the moment. You weren’t backing down.
“Original price,” you called, done with male bullshit.
Warnings: Love/hate situationship, flirting, smug Ransom, tension
Words: 298 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 7th - “I know you like what you see.”
You had been doing well ignoring Ransom Drysdale.
Three texts unanswered. Two calls to voicemail. One well timed exit from the coffee shop when his car pulled up.
Petty, maybe. Necessary, definitely.
Then he walked into the party looking like that.
Expensive sweater. Dark coat. That stupid scarf looped at his throat like he knew how insufferable it made him look. His hair looked careless in a way that had taken ten minutes, and he paused in the doorway like he expected the room to rearrange itself.
Annoyingly, it almost did. People parted
Worse, he caught you looking
Only for a second. But Ransom caught it before you could turn back to your drink and pretend he hadn’t done anything.
His mouth curved.
By the time he reached you, smugness had settled over his face like a birthright.
“Don’t start,” you warned.
He leaned beside you, close enough that his sleeve brushed your bare arm. His eyes moved over you with rude appreciation, and your pulse, traitorous thing, answered.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to be unbearable.”
“Can’t I do both?”
You hated him.
Especially when he looked pleased with himself.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” his, voice low purr beneath the party noise.
“I’ve been busy.” Cutting, cold.
His smile sharpened. “Liar.”
You took a sip of your drink just to have something to do with your mouth.
Ransom watched like it proved his point.
“I know you like what you see.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” You rolled your eyes
“Too late.” His gaze flicked to your mouth.
Your glare should have discouraged him.
He glanced around the party with open boredom, then pushed off the wall
“Come on.”
“I’m not going -”
Ransom held out his hand.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t waiting for me to ask.”
Summary: You accidently teleport into a book- not knowing it's smut and come face to face with Loki who is very much convinced on keeping you from returning home
Rated: R *dark warning*(DARK ELEMENTS!)
Theme Song/Inspiration: "Like You Mean It" by Steven Rodriguez
Note: Damn I'm nervous posting this *sweats* LOL
You gasped for breath while your body seemed to shoot up from where you lay, hand automatically coming to your chest as if to keep your heart in tact.
You were instantly flooded with the familiar scent of floral, stuffy like the air was trapped and mildly dusty- not necessarily insulting to the nose. Home..
No..
Your eyes rounded as you took in the sight of your bedroom before you. If you weren't sitting on your ridiculously soft bed with the fluffy comforter creating that illusion, you wouldn't have thought it was real! The colors of your walls, your carpet, your knickknacks, art work, bookshelves- it was all here!
And so were you..
Your mouth stayed open, almost as if words had been cut off mid sentence but you hardly knew what you were supposed to say.. Or finish. Your hand trailed down to your stomach, tensing as if to feel a jagged edge of glass still jutting out of you with the coppery scent of blood just waiting to be triggered.
Nothing..
Nothing but your oversized sweater you tended to live in with the matching sweatpants to go with it. Even your hair was still up in the messy bun you left it in before you..
That's right..
‘’Loki..’’ you breathed, your chest tightening at the very thought of him.
The last thing you remember was him at your side while you-.. At least he was safe.. And you prayed he’d do the right thing with what knowledge he had now. Would the story continue for him from there? Or would it just go back to the beginning.. Maybe even just not exist at all unless someone like you entered it.. Like that movie The Neverending Story that still creeped you out to this day.
Your eyes looked down at your free hand, still having stayed limply at your side but you now felt yourself holding something.
Your phone..
Your body tensed as you raised it up, the screen still very much alive and looking back at you in its bright glare- you had to dim it a little. It was times like this when you returned, your body felt a little dizzy, as if it took a bit of time adjusting back to the real world after your mind just pulled an Avatar.
Reading the book itself without phasing in was entirely different from what you lived. If you read Pride and Prejudice, it would never have in these pages that you’ve shared tea amongst friends, walked in the gardens by yourself or hid some of the corsets you would have been meant to wear. You.. cursed to be either a deleted scene, a gap filler or a between the lines type of character.
You were fine with that, but it hurt like Hel as you looked down at your screen now, scrolling through the Archive of Our Own book with all of YOUR history gone. Everything.. All of it.. Except..
Your eyes lit up as you scrolled to the top, figuring perhaps reading whatever summary description you had cursed yourself blindly with would now finally be answered- and to your heart jumping- it was there!
Can a woman, found in the most unlikeliest of places, be capable of melting the cold king’s heart? Or be destined to serve a lifetime of servitude towards the one she fears most? And loves..
Your phone nearly falls out of your hand if your hand didn't go with it, both dropping back on the bed at your side while you stared at the wall.
What had happened wasn't.. Too far off, right? As unintentionally as you could go about things at least. Yet that still didnt tell you the storyline..
You picked back up your phone, noticing how shaky your hands were. That could have also been a combination of needing to eat since the time seemed to be around the time dinner was served before you began scrolling back down to the bottom of the page.. Aka the very last chapter. You'd start with the very last paragraphs, but it would seem that's as far as you got before your body froze again.
Y/N hauled herself onto the horse, such skills having been rusty over time but adrenaline ensuring she’d stay on while the guards approached closer.
It was almost as if Aria knew, the need and survival instincts filling the air while she reared up for use of her front legs, kicking out to gain space from those trying to grab her reins- all while Y/N opted to hold on for dear life.
“Go!” she yelled, seeing her chance while the guards quickly ducked and dodged before Aria burst forward.
It wasn't easy riding bareback- then again, it wasn't easy running from a man that loved and scared her- but perhaps there was a time for everything to learn such things. Even as the tears fell noticeably down her cheeks while she held onto Aria, trusting where she ran would seek her temporary solitude until a plan could actually be made.
Asgard was a dangerous place if one didn't know where they were going, but at least the forests would provide decent coverage and distance until her prince would find her again. Perhaps such an event would happen sooner than she realized, enticing the second sound of horsehooves echoing not far behind her.
Your brows furrowed, not minding the cliffhanger- but the fact that there was no following chapter!
“The fuck-’’ you cursed under your breath, double checking before scrolling back up to see if you missed anything.
No more chapters..
You felt yourself begin to sweat, honestly looking like any other reader begging for the next chapter- but this one was different.. It was personal. Even at the top, you found no button to further this adventure and your brows got more and more furrowed. You then began to feel silly, holding onto the slightest bit of hope and checked the last update that was made-
July 30th 2021.
2021?! How could an update not be made for such a long time!? How was it all possible anyway.. If a story you went into wasn't finished.. Did you just.. Continue it yourself? Like how you did- oh gods…
You bit your lip and widened your eyes. THIS book stopped right as Aria began to save you.. But this time it would seem you two ran into the forest to escape. In YOUR adventure, you changed the story completely and went to the Bifrost to save Thor.. Odin.. Loki..
Maybe the book.. Maybe your powers would extend like that, thinking you’d SOME DAY go back to the storyline to finish it. So if you had gone to the forest area.. What would have happened then? Forever stuck? There was no ending anyway.. So was the only way to phase out of an unfinished book.. To die?
You shivered at the thought, idea and sensation considering how you felt in your last moments. It was like a hangover, flu, broken bone all had a baby and yet strangely at the same time.. Peaceful.. And tiresome.
And painful..
You fell back on your bed with your eyes closed, phone clutched at your heart while you thought of Loki. You were back.. What would happen if you tried going back to him? Would you have to die again if you needed an out since there was no finished storyline? Or live forever.. Paving your own with the hope- but not guarantee- that he was better and not fallen back into the ways of death, destruction and lies..
‘’Y/N hun- dinners ready!”
The voice of your mother calls in her usual sing-song voice while she opens the door to your bedroom, causing you to jump straight up in sudden surprise and excitement.
‘’Mom!!” you cried out, your body taking over as it swept you across the room in lightening speed and wrapping your arms around her waist, damn near knocking her over while she gave you a silly grin.
‘’Okay what did you do?”
She questioned her on the edge of a scolding voice while you laughed and hugged her tighter, your chin resting over her shoulder while you took in her familiar warmth, scent and feeling.
‘’Just.. Missed you, that's all..’’ you said carefully, trying not to sound suspicious while you squeezed your eyes shut, opting for that instead of your arms to not harm the older woman.
‘’Don't give me any of that, you better not have any boys in here.’’ she teased with a playful swat on your arm before she hugged you back, her sign of giving in while you could practically feel her eyes sweeping over your room.
‘’Nah, none in stock yet.’’ you teased, relishing in your temporary happiness while you slowly pulled away to not make her more worried before you changed the subject to technically men in your room. ‘’Whatcha make?”
‘’Spagetti, your Nani’s recipe. Your sister is finishing up the salad, come on,’’ she nodded towards the door and you hesitated, making her pause and practically read your mind. ‘’No phones at the table.’’
You winced and sighed, giving her a nod while you told yourself you could think of all this later while enjoying your grandma’s famous spaghetti and some much needed family time.
Of course while there was much to talk about, all you could offer was “not much” updates and some fake friendship drama to make your outside life more interesting and untouched by your parent’s attentions. Thankfully your sister seemed to talk most of the time and gave you a break while trying to catch up on your last update HERE.
You needed more hobbies.. That's for sure because the fact that you only ‘read’ in your spare time couldn't be healthy. You did have a few close friends and enjoyed the occasional night out or coffee dates, but reading also saved money while you had been trying to get an apartment of your own.
Not that you minded staying with your folks.. It didn't bother you, but it has been a long past time you leave the nest. You also thought it would give you a good chance to less awkwardly bring actual boys over without being under your nosey parent’s roof but.. Your dating life has gone downhill since.. Well.. the last boyfriend you had as you told Loki plus- book boyfriends were better anyway.
Were they though?You shook your head at the little demon whispering in your head and took another bite of food. Your last bite.. You scarfed.. Several plates..
This whole thing hadn't necessarily scared you off from being in another book.. You just began having that small urge of… taking a break. You longed to see Loki again- as promised but.. You still weren't sure how you’d get back another time without dying.. Let alone trusting that he was reformed.
That gave you an idea.
Dinner was over and you stayed long enough to watch a few episodes of whatever your parents were watching- solely for the company before you scampered back to your bedroom. Your phone stayed on the mattress as if mocking you but you drew in a breath and puffed out your chest.
You literally have survived so much- not just in this recent book in which you had found out it was called Like You Mean It by the author named Mischief Maker. So many adventures.. Figuring this thing out would not scare you off. Especially having taken a shard from Asgard’s bridge to get back here.. Unknowingly.
Through hours of research before your eyes began to drift, you had come to some conclusions and a battle plan.
Only go into books you’ve read and looked over to not repeat your same mistake.. Not saying Loki was a mistake or something but- it would be best to just.. Have a heads up if you were coming face to face with a borderline sadist.
You also have hunted down the author of the damn book and found out that the book hadn't been finished or updated due to some real life stuff going on that she vaguely hinted about. No one's business- but you understood. You were no writer by any means- you literally proved it not too long ago- but you could understand how writing and real life crap was a hard balance- let alone with thin energy and motivation at times.
That being said, you thought about hitting up the author tomorrow and perhaps either asking if an update was going to come soon.. Or maybe find someone to finish it themselves..
You didn't want to insult them by any means- let alone seem like a pest.. But how could you enter an unfinished world? There was no way in Hel you wanted to die to see that man again but you were going to do everything you could to fight for him..
The only curiosity was.. Would you resume where you left off, or start from the beginning where Loki would see you as property again? Could you be better prepared this time? You never actually reentered a book before.. You kinda just lived the life and then went to a new one so.. This would be a difficult choice..
Maybe you could even try to write your own book.. Maybe based off hers? Though there was no way you were gonna copyright..
A heavy sigh left your lips and you closed your eyes. How about we just start with seeing if the author will want to update.. After all- maybe some projects get forgotten or something with some intent on getting back to it..
Loki was for sure a hard one to forget.. If at all..
The next morning, you felt OK. By any means, it felt strange waking up alone in your own, original bed without some sort of suspicious shit happening, or the man of your dreams between your legs.
Sad to say you were still an addict and your body craved the attention but you got up and got ready for the day, providing a distraction rather than a -most likely- failed attempt at mastrabating.
Pulling out your laptop, you opened up the browser in which the author was still active and opened up her inbox.
You weren't too big on communicating on this site, you were a reader and enjoyed polls and commenting- never yourself actually writing. Did you compliment them first? Say hi and see what happens? You couldn't believe you were sweating but you were pretty sure it was partly nerves. You hated feeling like you were a burden or a problem and feeling like you were going to nag someone definitely had you up there.
Hey! I just wanna say i LOVE ‘Like You Mean it’ and was wondering if there’d be an update in the mere future? Hope you’re feeling well 🙏
After staring at it for fifty times, you sent it.
What if she never replies? Or see it? Should I send one each day I don't get a reply? Should I think of a plan B?
You ran your fingers through your hair to push it out of your face and sighed, leaning back and letting the back of your head lean against the wall behind you with a less than grateful thunk. What would plan B be? You didn't want to write your own- that was copyright.. But only if it wasn't published? If you kept it on paper, then no one but you would ever know..
But that could take forever.. It took practically hours to cough up a single sentence TWICE because of Loki. you wanted her story because that’s where THAT Loki was.. Anything you do could change that personality of his.. Believe it or not, each book involving the man you went into had a slight difference in behavior. Everyone writes differently and even though Mischief Maker’s version was pretty dark and deranged..
Damn it you had just begun fixing things!
You yelled out in frustration and closed your lap top. You were obsessing over this and needed a break. She probably wouldn't reply this second.. Or today.. Or soon.. But this wasnt healthy..
You spent the day with mom- consisting of driving her to places, grabbing coffee together and grocery shopping. The bonding was nice but you’d be lying if you didn't admit to checking your phone every hour to see if the author replied.
Nothin.
Dinner was spent on the couch where your whole family watched with you one of the best movies in the world- Marvel’s Avengers but you stayed silent pretty much the whole time. The movies hit differently.. Especially now and this wasn't helping when you were trying to seek out a distraction.
‘’You okay?” your dad asked from his lounge chair and you looked over with a reassuring smile.
‘’Yeah, all good.’’ you assured and he gave you a nod before looking back at the tv- the extent of his worry ending.
The amount of times light from your phone would illuminate your face was almost annoying you, let alone your mother where she gave you a gentle smile and told you to take a break and watch the movie with them. After all, as your sister teasingly points out-
It’s your favorite.
The next few days dragged by, filled with sighs and phone obsession before you began to feel like you were gonna give up. Was Loki waiting for you? Did he even notice or care if the book reset? How were you to know?
You often looked back at the last page from before the cut off and tapped your finger subconsciously on your chin.
Mischief Maker wasn't replying to her account though has been active every few minutes. Oh gods.. You probably annoyed her..
You cringed and looked away from the phone, racking your brain at trying to figure out what to do but you had that slight nauseous feeling again. You were eating your usual amount of food- but you noticed you were more tired and had waves of sick-feeling.
Gods you needed a vacation.. An electronic vacation away from it all but a small part of you felt like you were abandoning him.. Did he miss you as much as you missed him?
You had thought about phasing into other Loki books, shorter, sweet ones but you felt like it wouldn't be the same. Was this an addiction? Was your mental state okay?
More days passed and you remained the same. Honestly, was this what writer's block felt like? How you needed to think of a plan, something to do to fix your dilemma but not a thought came to mind on how. It got bad enough where you sent the author a second inbox message, asking how they’ve been.
You immediately regretted it when you pressed send.
Her other stories were pretty good- a lot unhinged, dark themed but the plots were solid. Definitely sounded more like your Loki than the others, and you couldn't help but think if something was wrong with you for thinking such a thing..
Do you like bad boys now? Loki wasn't really a bad boy.. Most would call him an anti villain right? Technically a hero with a shit ton of character development.
Your eyes closed and you drew in a breath, trying to ignore another wave of nausea just as your mom walked in before you could hide your facial expression.
‘’Still not feeling well? It’s been a couple of days..’’ she said with worry, coming over to sit beside you and place a nice, cool hand on your forehead.
‘’You're not really burning up.. Though your not eating as much..’’
‘’I love your food mom but- my appetite is just paused right now..’’ you tell her, hoping she's not offended because it is by far NOT her food that's the problem. Her food is amazing.
You notice the hesitance in her face like she wants to say something and you sigh, stopping your urge to roll your eyes. ‘’There’s no boys in here.’’
‘’I know honey it’s just.. You’d tell me if you were dating anyone right? We’d love to meet them and have them over for dinner and-’’
‘’I’m not dating yet mom, or seeing anyone, i promise i’d let you know if i- oh god..’’ you groan and cover your face, red cheeked and embarrassed while she retracted her hand.
‘’What?”
‘’You think im having sex.’’ you mumble into your hands.
‘’Well.. Honey.. It’s just..’’
‘’I promise mom, I haven't had sex. In like.. Forever. Imma be the dude from 40 Year Old Virgin by the time i find the right guy around here because thats how much action ive-’’
‘’Okay okay- thank you hon.. I was just concerned, it’s a parents job.’’ she sighed with a small smile when she noticed my teasing look.
Mom and I could always be honest with each other, the mother and daughter relationship I hope everyone has- not necessarily talking about all private stuff but.. Feeling safe to talk about anything.
‘’I love you honey, need anything?” she asks as she gets up.
‘’No, thank you. Were you gonna head over to Mary’s?” you ask, sitting up and cracking your back.
‘’Yeah, did you want to come along?” she asked and from the hopeful sound of her voice, how could i say no.
‘’Sure- i could use the break anyways,’’ you shrug and stand up, wincing as soon as you say it while mom pauses at the door.
‘’What were you working on?”
‘’Ohh just.. Some Youtube edits you know, getting some ideas finally out of my head.’’ you fib, grabbing your stuff and following her out with being just lucky enough for her to shrug and accept the answer, hardly knowing you had been just buried in obsession and anger arising from a ghosting author.
Today you actually threw up, having hugged the toilet probably longer than you've held your phone today.
The sickness wasn't necessarily worse, but the nausea actually fell through with its threat than just.. Being there.
You had thought maybe if it was a time change, maybe being from Asgard and here made your body feel like it was in a different time zone than you realized. You also thought it was switching foods, drinks, your bed- anything that had made you transitioned from where you were.
It sounded impossible so maybe there was just a bug going around..
You had spent the past few hours of restless sleep reading the actual story of what actually happened in Like You Mean it and quite frankly.. You felt like you saved the poor chick.
It opened up with how you started- a woman wakes up and eventually runs into Loki. However, instead of your multiple attempts of escape, this chick just.. Cooperates. She does everything she can to try to please him- even if it were things she was again or wasn't into.. Perhaps to win his heart to make him more compliant in trying to hear her out but quite frankly.. There wasn't much talking going on in the first few chapters.
You never got how some reader characters just.. Folded. Easily. Loki was drop dead gorgeous and logically it makes sense but realistically.. You wouldn't just let a stranger practically manhandle and use you just cause he’s hot, right?
Welcome to dark romance.
She came to her senses when she realized pain and pleasure was her life but the pain increasing through each character had her seek out escape. Fleeing on horseback was her first attempt aside from major arguments that went nowhere but the bedroom, and it made you shiver in more ways than one with all the thoughts coming back.
Perhaps in some sort of way, the negative aspect of it all had you sick enough to find yourself here. Your mom practically spawned out of nowhere when you donated more guts to the toilet and felt her gentle hand rubbing your back.
‘’Sweety, I really think you should consider seeing a doctor.. There hasn't been any word of a bug going around and you seemed perfectly fine last week.. Are you sure there isn't anything going on?”
You loved how your mom was so concerned but hated how you felt annoyed because of it. Maybe you just hated making her worry and took it out on her as you spit into the toilet and sighed, giving her a ‘this again look’.
‘’Mom, i told you i havent had any-’’
Your words were cut off when she held up a strange looking stick, wrapped in pink plastic and a ‘pleassse’ look on your moms face. ‘’Is that-’’
‘’I know you haven't been having sex darling but.. Could you at least take this? For me? It will just make me feel better that your-’’
‘’Theres no trust in thai family.’’ you sighed sarcastically and nearly rested your forehead on the seat. ‘’I haven't had a boyfriend in years. And no i don’t have flings.’’ you added when you heard your mother inhale.
‘’I do trust you but.. Please?” she asked quietly, making you take a breath and close your eyes.
She was wasting her time and wanting you to prove it. Holding a hand out without even turning around, you felt her place it in your hand and her footsteps approached the door.
‘’Do you know how to-’’
‘’Yes.’’
‘’Alright dear.. Let me know if you need anything.’’
You heard the door close behind you and you relaxed. She meant well.. But you wished she’d trust your word. You did have one scare when you were in highschool- that being the last fling you ever had before you were more careful when you were dating.
Flushing first, you rolled your eyes as you unwrapped the plastic and peed on the area you needed too. The things were easier than what movies made them seem, and you placed it on the counter to wait for the obvious results to come up.
Two lines meant positive- though there were false positives and negatives, which is why normally people took two or three. Yet if mom only gave you one, then there should be a little trust in your word.
Almost snorting to yourself, you sat down on the floor and rested your back against the door, picking up your phone while you set a mental timer in your head for the results to have come through.
While you had been waiting for this author to get to her messages- if at all- she has been posting some pretty cool updates on some originals she’s been working on. You resisted the urge to comment on the posts with ‘cool’ or ‘can’t wait’ encase she’d recognize you and ghost you permanently for sure- if that be the case.. Maybe she's just one of those people that ignores update requests and stays as ‘ill update when i update, you’ll find it eventually’.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you began to doomscroll in some of the fan art pages before you noticed the time was just about ready to tell your mom I told you so. Reaching up, your hand paused just as it had picked up the stick- the sound on a “ding” in your inbox indicating someone had sent you a message.
Brows furrowing, you hardly talked to anyone on here and when you did, it was through tags. Moving your thumb slowly to open up messages, a small twist began to appear in your stomach.
Were you going to barf again?
Taking a deep breath, focusing on the phone would distract you from the nausea but when you finally clicked on Inbox, the message there nearly did have you throw up.
It was from Mischief Maker, a single message on its own rather than being attached to your own message thread you had sent that nearly had your body shiver in chills and pale.
“Return to me..’’
You didn't know how you knew.. You didn't know how it was possible.. It was getting hard to breathe while your hands began to shake. Shake so much- you dropped the test onto the floor with a light tap on the bathroom tile.
‘Return to me’... it.. It’s not possible.. She’s fucking with you.. Right?
You couldn't breathe..
You couldnt move..
You needed to throw up.. You were going to be sick..
Your eyes slowly drifted off..
Down..
To the test laying beside you on the floor..
Positive.
YOU CANT CONVINCE ME THIS SONG WOULDNT BE PLAYING IF THEY ROLLED CREDITS!
MY MY WE’RE FINALLY HERE!
But don’t worry, this is not the end :) I've just deemed it appropriate to end it on this note as book one but I do hope to get to book two in the near future.
“I Mean It” (Loki Love Story) will be the title, and I'll be sure to post an announcement HERE whenever it does get posted. Still, keep an eye out ;)
I’d like to thank everyone who’s followed me on this journey! I’ve read and appreciated every comment and share you’ve given and have found it amusing with so many ideas and guesses being offered.
I was sweating at the ending tho.. Don’t get me wrong, i would have loved a more ‘happy ending’ but if you’re familiar with my writing style, thy demon tends to steal thy pen LOL
And I love me some twisted plot twists.
My offered reassurance is that a sequel will be presented :)
I hope i answered all of your questions as they’ve been commented- even i tend to confuse myself sometimes and over explain LOL But yeah.. Perhaps a more clear understanding of things will be further explained in the next book.
What next?
Well, I fully intend on getting started with book two when I can. One shots will still be written, other projects updated/finished and I hope to start a new book soon so keep an eye out :D (might be already published for later readers).
We’ve all fantasized of living in such places with our dream man ;) I wanted to keep it as realistic as possible if one would find themselves in an actual situation such as this- especially me where most of my sarcastic sass dripped into Y/N’s character personality Lol which.. Tends to get ‘us’ in trouble. I had so much fun writing this still and truly can’t wait for what the future holds for these characters 🙂
Never underestimate Loki ;)
I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!
Also on AO3
Tag List: @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen@eleniblue@jaidenhawke@amfilth@dunklersteinengel@blitzy93@mischeveousscamp@blaze-the-idiot@mari-800@horrormovielover00@imaginetheskies@angelofthorr@mencantaleer@kathren1sky-blog@tinytroublemaker-blog-blog@mona-has-dreams@soulpiercing@fire-in-her-veinz@sassybearfire@tinytroublemaker-blog-blog@oziozzioslo@tinytroublemaker-blog-blog@kittykatkattoo@jp600fox@lolathecorso@summ3rgl0w@cyrddleofstew@sxmrit@lunacurlclaw@skyehuntress@sleepilystarryranger@sxmrit@adashofpurple@skyez123
AN: for @societynsoelsscribbles June Jukebox Scribbles, day 7, “I know you like what you see.” Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics.
AN2: The people requested and I answered! A continuation of Smile for the Camera.
Warnings: it’s camming, so NSFW for sexually explicit content.
You pause the public show with a wink to your audience (“Be right back, babes—VIP time”) and accept. The second the private window opens, it’s just you and him. You watch his video feed flicker on and you take in Bucky’s appearance. Your breath catches - blue eyes, that sharp jaw, dark hair messy like he’d been running his hand through it.
Jesus Christ, he’s gorgeous.
“Hey Bucky,” you coo, gathering your wits back together. “Ready for some VIP treatment? I know you like what you see.”
“Damn,” Bucky breathes, and you can hear the genuine surprise. “You’re even prettier up close. Didn’t expect… fuck, I don’t know what I expected.”
You laugh, warm and throaty, spreading your legs a little wider for the camera. “Hi, Bucky. Right now you are just the hot guy watching me touch myself.”
He groans low, the sound sending heat straight between your thighs. Back in 1945, girls didn’t do this. Girls in 1945 didn’t sit in front of cameras in their apartments and let strangers watch them touch themselves for money. They didn’t smile like that…knowing, teasing, a little bit shy like they still couldn’t believe people wanted to see them and then slowly lower a strap of their brassiere.
Bucky’s mouth has gone dry.
You’re on your knees on the chair now, bralette pushed down under your tits, full and heavy and perfect, nipples tight from the cool air. Your other hand is still between your legs, rubbing slow circles under the lace, and you’re making these soft little sounds that go straight to his cock.
“God, you guys are making me so wet already,” you breathe, eyes half-lidded, looking right into the camera like you can see him. “So tell me… what do you wanna see?”
“Everything,” he admits, voice rough. “But slow. I want you to ride that toy you mentioned earlier while you look right at me. Pretend it’s my cock. Can you do that for me, doll?”
You smirk, reaching for the thick silicone toy beside you, already slick from the lube you grabbed off-camera. “Only if you stroke yourself too. Fair’s fair.”
Warnings: Space mission tension, flirting, suggestive banter
Words: 295 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 7th - Jump (For My Love) - Pointer Sisters/ “Where no one’s ever gone before.”
The observation room was the only place on Icarus II where silence felt intentional.
Everywhere else hummed: vents, panels. In here, it was only dark glass, distant fire.. and Mace sitting close enough beside you that his shoulder almost touched yours.
Almost.
“You know,” He started eyes fixed on the impossible burn beyond the window, “statistically, this is a very romantic setting.”
You turned your head slowly. “We are on a suicide mission.”
“Romance loves urgency.”
“We are flying a bomb into the sun.” Men were so weird sometimes.
His mouth twitched, gold light cutting across the handsome line of his face. “Warm lighting.”
A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, small and startled in the quiet.
Mace looked pleased with himself, which made it worse.
“You’re not going to start flirting with me in space,” you scoffed, trying for stern and landing somewhere dangerously close to fond.
“Start?” His brows lifted. “That implies I haven’t been doing an excellent job already.”
“You have not.”
“I’m optimistic, considering the mission profile.”
You bumped his boot with yours. “Mace.”
“What?” He leaned back against the wall, arms folded, but there was something softer under the usual blunt edge. “We’re farther from Earth than anyone gets to be. Floating through the dark. Where no one’s ever gone before.. Well almost”
“And your thought is sex?”
“My thought,” he started, very seriously, “is that it’s going to be a long trip.”
You looked away first, because smiling felt like losing.
Warnings: Love/hate situationship, flirting, smug Ransom, tension
Words: 298 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 7th - “I know you like what you see.”
You had been doing well ignoring Ransom Drysdale.
Three texts unanswered. Two calls to voicemail. One well timed exit from the coffee shop when his car pulled up.
Petty, maybe. Necessary, definitely.
Then he walked into the party looking like that.
Expensive sweater. Dark coat. That stupid scarf looped at his throat like he knew how insufferable it made him look. His hair looked careless in a way that had taken ten minutes, and he paused in the doorway like he expected the room to rearrange itself.
Annoyingly, it almost did. People parted
Worse, he caught you looking
Only for a second. But Ransom caught it before you could turn back to your drink and pretend he hadn’t done anything.
His mouth curved.
By the time he reached you, smugness had settled over his face like a birthright.
“Don’t start,” you warned.
He leaned beside you, close enough that his sleeve brushed your bare arm. His eyes moved over you with rude appreciation, and your pulse, traitorous thing, answered.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to be unbearable.”
“Can’t I do both?”
You hated him.
Especially when he looked pleased with himself.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” his, voice low purr beneath the party noise.
“I’ve been busy.” Cutting, cold.
His smile sharpened. “Liar.”
You took a sip of your drink just to have something to do with your mouth.
Ransom watched like it proved his point.
“I know you like what you see.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” You rolled your eyes
“Too late.” His gaze flicked to your mouth.
Your glare should have discouraged him.
He glanced around the party with open boredom, then pushed off the wall
“Come on.”
“I’m not going -”
Ransom held out his hand.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t waiting for me to ask.”
Warnings: Flirting, party setting, cocky Chase, suggestive banter
Words: 298 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 8th - “I feel a premonition.”
The party had spilled through the old house like smoke.
People crowded the kitchen, hallway, stairs. Music shook the floorboards, beer went warm in abandoned cups, and Chase Collins leaned beside you like the room had been built for him to look bored in.
“You keep staring at the door,” he said.
You took a sip from your cup. “thinking about leaving...”
His smile curled, slow and pleased. “That can be arranged.”
“With you?” You raised an eyebrow
“Obviously.” He shrugged
You rolled your eyes, which only encouraged him. Chase shifted closer, shoulder brushing yours, the scent of expensive cologne cutting through cheap beer and old wood. He had been doing this all night: appearing at your elbow, making lazy comments, looking at you like he already knew how the evening ended.
It was infuriating.
Mostly because your eyes kept betraying you. His mouth when he smiled. His hands around his cup. The easy line of his throat when he tipped his head back to laugh.
Mostly because he was starting to look right.
“I’m not going home with you, Collins.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“Maybe.” His grin widened. “Maybe I was being gentlemanly and waiting for you to suggest it.”
“Unlikely.”
“Ouch.” He faked hurt
“You’ll recover.”
His gaze dipped to your mouth, quick enough to deny if you called him on it, obvious enough to make your pulse trip.
Then he looked toward the door, humming like he had just solved a problem.
“I feel a premonition.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Do you?”
“Strong one.” He leaned down, voice warm against your ear. “You, me, leaving this incredibly disappointing party in the next five minutes.”
Warnings: Weapons deal, threat/intimidation, dark flirting, dangerous tension
Words: 270 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 8th - Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin/ “Like a bullet to your brain.”
The warehouse smelled like oil, saltwater..
You had brought August Walker for one reason.
Not to negotiate. Not to charm.
He was there to stand behind you and make your words heavier.
Instead, he stepped forward.
“The price doubled,” he announced loudly
Every head turned.
Your smile stayed fixed, but something cold slid neatly into place behind your ribs.
Across the warehouse, the broker stilled. His men did too. August remained calm, broad and silent now, like he had not just taken a knife to weeks of careful work.
You let the quiet stretch until it became painful.
Then you looked up at him.
“Did I ask you to speak?”
His gaze cut to yours. “I’m handling it.”
“No,” your voice soft enough that others couldn’t hear. “You’re failing at the one job I brought you here to do.”
A muscle jumped in August’s jaw.
“Back off,” he murmured, not looking away. “Unless you want to burn every bridge in this room.”
You smiled then, slow and sharp.
“If I have to do your job for you, Walker, will be messy, like a bullet to your brain messy.”
The threat settled between you.
His eyes darkened, not with fear. You would have been disappointed if it were fear.
No, August looked at you like he was deciding whether to kill you or kiss you.
One of the broker’s men shifted.
August’s hand moved first, barely lifting his jacket to reveal the gun at his ribs.
The room froze.
You did not look away from him, this was the moment. You weren’t backing down.
“Original price,” you called, done with male bullshit.
Warnings: Secret relationship, argument, hurt feelings, implied intimacy, class/power imbalance language
Words: 298 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 6th - Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish/ “When they say your name, I just act confused.”
Your hands shook as you searched the floor for your dress, wrapped in the fur you’d dragged from the foot of Loki’s bed. Behind you, the sheets shifted.
“Come back to bed.”
His voice was still low from sleep.
You didn’t turn around. “No.”
Loki sat up, dark hair falling loose over his shoulders. “No?”
“I can’t keep doing this.”
The words came out too quiet. You heard him move behind you, bare feet meeting cold stone before he reached for his trousers.
“This?” he replied carefully.
“Yes, this.” You finally faced him, clutching the useless scrap of silk to your chest trying to dress “Being secret. Like I don’t think of how you touch me when I’m near you..”
His expression closed, eyes cold.
You laughed, brittle “What am I supposed to do, Loki? When they say your name, I just act confused?”
“Do not be dramatic.”
“I’m being stupid.” Your eyes burned. “That’s what this is. Stupid. Everyone knows. They look at me like I’m..they know.”
“You are not leaving.”
He stood between you and the door now, half-dressed, beautiful and furious.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
His jaw flexed. “Apparently I decide very little where you are concerned.”
“If you want a whore, then pay for one.” You hissed, wounded.
His eyes flashed, sharp enough to cut. “Careful.”
“No.” Your voice broke. “You be careful. You don’t get to make me feel like your whore and then act insulted when I name it.”
Silence fell.
Loki swallowed once. You watch him shift.. walls going up, armour dragged across an open wound you’d caused.
“I am your prince,” each word too cold to be natural. “Get back into bed.”
I am personally rather pleased at how well this one did come up in so fewer words (and how much its peaked people's interest too) I think we'll see something like it (but bigger) down the line...
Warnings: Space mission tension, flirting, suggestive banter
Words: 295 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 7th - Jump (For My Love) - Pointer Sisters/ “Where no one’s ever gone before.”
The observation room was the only place on Icarus II where silence felt intentional.
Everywhere else hummed: vents, panels. In here, it was only dark glass, distant fire.. and Mace sitting close enough beside you that his shoulder almost touched yours.
Almost.
“You know,” He started eyes fixed on the impossible burn beyond the window, “statistically, this is a very romantic setting.”
You turned your head slowly. “We are on a suicide mission.”
“Romance loves urgency.”
“We are flying a bomb into the sun.” Men were so weird sometimes.
His mouth twitched, gold light cutting across the handsome line of his face. “Warm lighting.”
A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, small and startled in the quiet.
Mace looked pleased with himself, which made it worse.
“You’re not going to start flirting with me in space,” you scoffed, trying for stern and landing somewhere dangerously close to fond.
“Start?” His brows lifted. “That implies I haven’t been doing an excellent job already.”
“You have not.”
“I’m optimistic, considering the mission profile.”
You bumped his boot with yours. “Mace.”
“What?” He leaned back against the wall, arms folded, but there was something softer under the usual blunt edge. “We’re farther from Earth than anyone gets to be. Floating through the dark. Where no one’s ever gone before.. Well almost”
“And your thought is sex?”
“My thought,” he started, very seriously, “is that it’s going to be a long trip.”
You looked away first, because smiling felt like losing.
Warnings: Love/hate situationship, flirting, smug Ransom, tension
Words: 298 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 7th - “I know you like what you see.”
You had been doing well ignoring Ransom Drysdale.
Three texts unanswered. Two calls to voicemail. One well timed exit from the coffee shop when his car pulled up.
Petty, maybe. Necessary, definitely.
Then he walked into the party looking like that.
Expensive sweater. Dark coat. That stupid scarf looped at his throat like he knew how insufferable it made him look. His hair looked careless in a way that had taken ten minutes, and he paused in the doorway like he expected the room to rearrange itself.
Annoyingly, it almost did. People parted
Worse, he caught you looking
Only for a second. But Ransom caught it before you could turn back to your drink and pretend he hadn’t done anything.
His mouth curved.
By the time he reached you, smugness had settled over his face like a birthright.
“Don’t start,” you warned.
He leaned beside you, close enough that his sleeve brushed your bare arm. His eyes moved over you with rude appreciation, and your pulse, traitorous thing, answered.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to be unbearable.”
“Can’t I do both?”
You hated him.
Especially when he looked pleased with himself.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” his, voice low purr beneath the party noise.
“I’ve been busy.” Cutting, cold.
His smile sharpened. “Liar.”
You took a sip of your drink just to have something to do with your mouth.
Ransom watched like it proved his point.
“I know you like what you see.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” You rolled your eyes
“Too late.” His gaze flicked to your mouth.
Your glare should have discouraged him.
He glanced around the party with open boredom, then pushed off the wall
“Come on.”
“I’m not going -”
Ransom held out his hand.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t waiting for me to ask.”
One of the best things about bringing Ransom out to play is the fact he is this delightfully irritating mixture of things. Can he be charming - yes, is he aware that his good looking - yes
Will he still be a prick - Absolutely
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