#Blade Signs for Business | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miyaz6ki · 1 year ago

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☆ ❝ 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞? ❞ ⋆ hsr x reader

synopsis. whenever he wants to taste you so bad ...

warnings. cervix eating, afab!gn!reader, face sitting, dom!character, they/them pronouns are used on reader, squirting (done by reader), overstimulation, fingering

author's note. just finished a documentary on a serial killer then wrote an essay with my own free will

pairings. dan heng, blade, luocha, jing yuan, sampo, welt, caelus x afab!gn!reader / fem!reader (take this however you like because i still use they/them on reader but they're afab :p)

dan heng is just messy asf, like probably his first time too, never really has had gotten the chance to ever eat anyone out. kind of was too busy to do that. but when you offered, he couldn't help but think of how you'd be straddled atop his chest, and his tongue just went deeper and deeper into your sensitive hole, and honestly would slurp your aftermath all up after with no shame. the loud sounds of him licking up all your cum didn't help the embarassment. but he pushed his thoughts away and finally got you straddled onto his face, and pleasure was all that was on his mind. the taste of your sweet honey just made him wanna indulge so much deeper inside you. your velvety walls clenching around his snake-like tongue was a good enough sign he'd get to taste such sweet bliss again.

type of guy to overstimulate the hell outta you just for all that essence. he has never tasted anything better. probably would finger you while you sit on the motel bed you rented for a few measly 10 thousand credits. becomes so greedy when his mouth is finally latched onto your hole just begging for you to come. after a while of eating you out, he'll just know where your g-spot is, would go so far to even say his tongue memorized it, and the taste. and he just can't get enough of it. and after everyday as your trailblazing mission is ongoing, whether you'd be away from him at the moment or just right beside him, he already misses you and your pussy so much :(

caelus is def a big sweetheart about it. even though you think he wouldn't be the one to ask, he would. "hey i've been a little stressed lately, can you.. sit on my face and let me treat you right?", and can't help but be a little messy with it, when you finally are on top of him. your hole is right there, wet and ready for him. he's still so blushy, shy and nervous about it. but as soon as he gets a taste of such bliss, he can't help but get more, and more, and more. as soon as he felt your cum on his tongue he couldn't help but want more! he doesn't mean to overstimulate you :(( he just wants more of that tasty sweetness!

does it after trailblazing missions specifically, his thoughts do lowkey get to him while on the job, probably jerked off to the idea of eating you out, or you giving him a blowjob, but that's another story, for another day, not tomorrow, not the day after, some day. anyways, he definitely likes the idea of doing it publicly, the adrenaline of someone catching you in the bathroom with your boyfriend's mouth filled with lust and hunger, he'd keep going if that ever happened, literally just wants everything we can harvest out of you. at first he does like to tease with a bit of fingering and kitty licks while you're blindfolded. your thighs slowly choking him is such a relieving feeling to him, he can't wait to feel that exotic bliss on his tongue.

cw: public-ish sex

sampo will not hesitate to tease the living hell out of you, does it everyday, and any day. and is not shameful at all, will ask you to sit on his face with confidence. after all the teasing is over though he will be messy with it. lowkey wants you to fuck his face with your pussy slowly because it feels that good. his nose literally covered in your wetness because of how deep his tongue is in, or how your forcing his face to get closer, as you're ab to cum!! also the kind of guy to finger you while he eats you out.

loves doing it in an alleyway in belobog especially. just indulging the hell outta your pussy while others just watch as he marks what's clearly his. his gloved finger so deep inside you, so deep inside your pussy and he just had to have such long and slender fingers, as he kept licking your blushing clit, and he couldn't help but moan into your pussy too <33 the vibrations just sent all the more pleasure into you. after that, he'll forcibly grab your thighs and put them atop his shoulders as he also sat you down on 2 small boxes stack on each other and eats you out even more. not afraid at all to overstim your poor hole. but how can he resist such ethereal tasting bliss of yours? it tasted so good he just couldn't get enough!

welt is very straightforward. only word that comes to mind, no shame, maybe a bit, but will ask you himself with pleasure to ask you to sit ontop of his face, or at least just let him eat you out. he's been so stressed after that trailblazing mission.. he's just gotta eat somethingg.... and you can't deny him forever so one thing led to another, he's ravaging in the taste of your hole, god.. why was it just so fucking addicting? the sticky taste of the sweet little honey you produced made him wanna cum, he is indeed stroking his cock as he eats you out, he's just that kind of guy!!

more into doing it in private, prefers that only he hears how good his tongue makes you feel. so long, and it just felt so good, his nose getting covered in the sticky essence, he didn't care anymore, he just wanted more and more. but would probably ask you if he can overstimulate you more LOL. if himeko like ever just comes in without knocking, he'll literally growl, and she'll be out in a jiffy, just.. can't get the image of a hungry welt eating his s/o's pussy like a homeless man who hasn't ate in days... is just certainly shocked, calm, collected, and cool; welt yang, was so easily undone and broken by his s/o('s taste yum yum yum)..

jing yuan has no mercy at all, and will ask you so nonchalantly, "hey, can you sit on my face i'm kinda stressed ;(" is the first text you see when opening your phone. is this really the dozing general of luofu.. asks you so many times actually, like when he's bored and lazing around he'll just ask you to sit on his desk while he eats you out. but dear fucking god— whenever you just came all over his tongue, why the hell did that taste so damn good?? so good he would literally eat you out everyday if he could just to have that 'snack'. and he wouldn't want anyone else's, yours was special, that's what he said. and honestly i see him to be the type that his eyes glow when he gets closer to his climax, and he is another one of the cock stroking while eating you out gang!!

whatever anyway, he'll pound the hell out of your pussy after anyway, don't worry! it's just 'till you can't move a damn muscle in your legs, kind of guy to just want to hold you down by your hips, or the plush of your thighs, he just wants you to hold still while he drinks the devil's wine. if he isn't stroking his cock while he eats you out, his hard cock will just be out in the open while he fingers and eats you out too <3. eats you out like a snack literally sometimes, because he acts like he didn't just eat you out half the time. like after getting you cleaned up and everything, he literally would just start asking "you want anything for dinner?", "huh? it's 1pm in the afternoon jing yuan—"

blade is really rough when eating you out. messy and rough. type of guy to softly bite on your clit/really rub his tongue against that spot tbh HLP.. overall is confident, "hey babe can i eat you out rq im aboutta go out" "huh??". has your legs on his shoulders and roughly brings your hole to his mouth, all that juice on his tongue is really what makes him distracted from anything else, like even if anyone were to walk in on you both, he wouldn't care, your sultry moans and you cumming all over his face is all that mattered. will finger you and eat you out because he likes it when you squirt your cum out, is in love with the idea. and right after probably would put you into a mating press and insert his dick so smoothly inside there <3

the type to say i'll wash you up after eating you out but ends up having sex in the shower and literally pounds the shit out of your hole.. again.. in the bed this time.. he gives the first impression of high sex drive, breeding kink blade, what can i say? anyways, will just be so glad to slurp all your cum up after, in love with the scent, smell, taste, anything about you, and he'd gladly say it out loud. just keep cumming all over his face when he eats you out and little bladies will be running everywhere :0

luocha, even if he is a doctor of some sort, he is either so vanilla with it, just a few kitty licks and fingering you, or rough as fuck and messy, no in between because it's either he's gonna make you cum all over his face or cream on his face, doesn't want anything in between. will be glad to finger you if he feels like he wants your cum to just squirt everywhere, mmm just sit on his face and let him do the rest. doesn't care if his hair gets messy, doesn't care if he's supposed to be somewhere right now, he just wants more of this.. essence. whatever it is, he wants more. and won't be pleased if he hasn't milked you of all of it.

doesn't care if anyone decides to walk in on you both either, but that doesn't mean he prefers public sex. just prefers these moments to just him and you. probably also has a breeding kink. while he fingers you, right before he indulges himself in you, and gets too lost and drunk on the taste, he's already daydreaming of mini versions of him and you. loves the idea sm<33 and is glad you are pleased by the idea too!! so he hopes you don't mind his rock hard cock will pound you after a few 7 rounds of eating you out! just for you <3

can't take the word pussy seriously had to replace it with hole for that and because i want this to be for everyone/every reader!!

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tetzoro · 11 months ago

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SLOW MORNINGS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after two years, you finally agreed to move in with kuroo and after your first night together, kuroo reflects on his perspective of love — and how much you’ve influenced it.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff, fluff, fluff ! — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was lost in the abyss on kuroosdarling but i rescued this cheesy lil piece. enjoy !! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

love was something kuroo always found in fiction.

whether it would be from the stories his grandmother used to read to him as she tucked him into bed, her sweet voice filling his mind with a longing desire to one day have even a fraction of that love.

or in the books his father swore he didn’t own but yet somehow found themselves nestled in between the self help and business books that collected dust on his bookshelf. the tattered covers showing signs of wear and tear that could only come from a devoted reader.

but he never thought he’d make it here and experience a moment like this for himself. he never thought that this was something he’d ever even want at all. relationships had always been pushed back into the far corner of his heart, the fear from his parents ultimate brutal destruction overshadowed his desire for it.

so he never chased after love.

but then you chased after him. and he couldn’t help but welcome you in his arms. you were everything he never thought he needed. you brought peace and serenity into his life. kept him grounded, balanced but still somehow always knew how to push his buttons and keep him on his toes at the same time.

you were the perfect partner for him.

the day he met you, he had no idea how much you were going to infiltrate his life. you went behind enemy lines, storming towards his heart all without making a noise. the perfect stealth attack that left him questioning if he ever had any defenses to begin with.

but he supposed that all boiled down to a simple fact. he could act blind all he wanted, but his soul knew better, for it was the very thing that led you right into his heart, letting you steal it and make it yours.

he was just happy that it was finally in safe hands.

it all brought him crashing down to this moment — seeing your toothbrush innocently sitting next to his in the little ceramic glass by the bathroom sink. the little reminder that showed he shared his space with someone, actually letting them into every crevice of his heart. the thought had him getting a little emotional at 6 in the morning.

because he could easily look over to his right, through the opened bathroom door and see you still peacefully asleep in his bed — your shared bed. and it warmed his heart to no end.

as if you could sense his thoughts, you shift awake, watching him as he stared back at you.

“morning tetsu.” you whisper into the otherwise silent apartment. it took him a second to process the words as they spilled from your lips, watching as you slowly get up and stretch in a way that reminded him of a cat when they first rise from their slumber.

“morning sweetheart.” he smiles, his toothbrush haphazardly hanging out of the side of his mouth. you giggled at the sight, causing his grin to spread wider — wide enough for it to slip out of his mouth and into his hand. his reflexes from volleyball always came in handy when he needed it most. but he supposed he still looked like a fool in front of you — you just had that effect on him.

“you still asleep in there or something?” you ask, teasing him as you wander into the bathroom, wiping some toothpaste off his cheek before wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

“tell me, is it possible to get too much beauty sleep? because you’ve never looked more gorgeous.” he murmurs back, his large hand covering yours as he held your gaze in the mirror. he relished in the flustered expression you tried to hide as your face burrowed between his shoulder blades.

“so cheesy this early? my oh my, we’re off to a good start.” you giggle, your lips pressing against his bare back as the sound escapes you, sending chills all throughout him.

“you better believe it.” he smirks, happily leaning back into your touch. “how’d you sleep?”

“i slept great.” you poke your head out from behind him, smiling as you met his gaze in the mirror once again. it was hard for him not to immediately match your smile, the light in your eyes already brightening the dawn of the day. so he didn’t bother to fight it as his lips lifted upward. “our first night together in the apartment.”

“our apartment.” he quickly corrected, his palm patting your hand soothingly.

“our apartment.” you repeat. you pivot so you’re next to him, lightly bumping his hip with yours so he’d step to the side, giving you some room in the cramped space. you reach over and grab your toothbrush, the very one he was so caught up in only moments ago.

the quiet space now filled with life as you start your morning routine. he resumes brushing his teeth, watching each step you take.

how could something so mundane fill him with such joy?

your pretty eyes meet his in the mirror once again as you start brushing, slightly widening them in surprise under his watchful gaze.

and you were just so cute, sleep still clinging onto your sweet features as if you were internally fighting to stay awake. the two of you had plenty of sleepovers prior to you moving in, but this felt different.

this was the start of your lives together.

and it made him happy. so happy that he couldn’t help but chuckle, watching your face scrunch up at the strong minty toothpaste he used.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter either, lovingly looking at him through the mirror as your shared giggles fill the room.

if this was the first day to the rest of your lives together, he knew it would be filled with nothing but love. the kind of love he thought only existed in cliche movies and sappy poems. the kind in the bedtime stories his grandmother would read to him. the kind he found between the annotated pages of his father’s books.

but he found all of that within you, the love of his life.

thank you so much for reading :3

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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targaryenimagines · 11 months ago

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A Gentle Flame

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,701

Summary: After months of trying, you are finally able to give something back to your Khaleesi that she never thought she’d have again — an heir to not only House Targaryen but the Iron Throne. You just aren’t sure how you’d like to reveal the good news to your beloved; taking solace in your dearest friend’s company as he tried to help you in revealing the truth. Of course, you should have known that your dragon’s possessive fire would never be quenched — not even for Grey Worm.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, jealousy/possessiveness, and pregnancy.

Notes: Can be seen as part of the “My Khaleesi” series, but can also be read as a stand-alone as well. Thank you to the wonderful @rain-mikaelson for this amazing idea!

Series Masterlist

“She doesn’t know?”

You don’t have to turn around to see, with picture perfect clarity, the confusion that must have been etched upon your dearest friends face. The thickening of his accent alone told you all you needed to know.

“No,” you reply, setting the brush you had been fiddling with firmly back in its place on your vanity. “I only just discovered it. I went to the Palace Healer after I missed my second cycle in recent months.”

The familiar sound of leather rubbing against sharpened metal echoes through the air — a telltale sign that he was processing what had been revealed — as you begin to fiddle, once more, with the brush you hadn’t needed since the conversation had commenced.

“And the Healer?” He hedges out the question, hesitation clear in his tone. “She won’t divulge anything to the Queen?”

“No, I made sure of that. The only way Daenerys will find out I’m pregnant is from my own lips and no one else’s.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “Why tell me, Your Grace?”

Twisting around, so you’re finally staring face-to-face with your closest companion, you can’t help the small, albeit genuine, twist of your lips as you smiled at him. “Because you’re my closest friend, Grey Worm.” You wave a hand in the air, even as a melancholic twinge echoes within your heart. “Dany always had Missandei and I always had you.”

“And you still do,” he intones, clearly fighting through the wave of emotions that her name still invokes within him. “You always will, Your Highness. For as long as I shall live and be able to raise my weapon to the sky in your honor.”

You’re touched by the fierceness within his tone — not doubting, for even a second, the sincerity behind his words; Grey Worm would always protect you, would always be there — but the knowledge of what the upcoming days would bring, causes you to lean back against your vanity with a heavy sigh.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to break the news, Grey.” Running a frazzled hand through your hair, Grey Worm simply observes as you sort out the various thoughts whirling in your head. “The Summit is commencing in five days, the guests will be arriving in two, and you know how Daenerys has been planning this for months.” Your eyes raise to meet stoic brown. “I can’t have her know I’m pregnant until after.”

He tilts his head. “I would assume the Queen would be ecstatic to learn the news, Your Grace.”

“She would be,” you state, confident in that knowledge at least. “But, I can’t have that be what she’d focus on this week. Even if she’d pretend to be business as usual, we both know how Daenerys gets when even the slightest chance of my safety is in question. How do you think she’d react or behave, with all these unknowns arriving in King’s Landing, if she knew I’m with child?”

Grey Worm doesn’t respond, he didn’t have to, not when the last time your life had seemed to be in peril was still so fresh within both of your minds. You had been ambushed returning to the Red Keep after a day in the city, a couple of vagabonds testing their luck against Valyrian and Dothraki blades, it had ended quickly, but your darling wife had not taken the news of no major injuries lightly; not when things could of had a different conclusion. Daenerys had been on a warpath for weeks, refusing to let any stone go unturned, until everyone she deemed responsible for such a fuck up was punished accordingly; whether that be the genial blacksmith that had sold them their weapons, the proprietors of the tavern the vagabonds frequented and loudly discussed their plans, or the guardsmen themselves that hadn’t realized there was a threat before it was almost too late.

“She can’t know,” you stress. “Not when this Summit means so much to her.”

There’s a beat of silence, wherein your closest companion simply observes you, taking note of what feelings must have been flickering within your gaze, before he inclined his head, an imperceptible motion that only the people who knew him would be able to pick up.

“What will you have me do?”

“I wish for you to stay close, my love.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a question, by the steely undercurrent that lay within her tone, the diplomatic smile on her lips causing her eyes to strain with the force of keeping her emotions in check. You could tell that Daenerys had begun to tire of playing host to all the nobles, both of major and minor houses, that Westeros seemed so proud to boast. However, the end result of what this Summit could potentially do, collecting all of the major players within the Seven Kingdoms to witness the power that is House Targaryen, meant that she was allowing herself to be docile for the moment.

At least until the single House that caused her hackles to rise appeared.

House Stark moved as a singular unit, bringing truth to the old adage that its members were like a wolf pack, but the lone man leading met your gaze solidly with his own steely brown. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by Daenerys, nor the guard standing mere feet behind you both, and you could practically feel the air thicken with growing tension. Something that would have caused Daenerys to take up arms if she knew of the life I’m now carrying.

“Your Majesties.” A familiar gravelly voice greets, his head inclining to the both of you. “It’s a pleasure for House Stark to be invited back to King’s Landing.”

His sentiment was clearly not shared with the two women behind him — the shorter of the two looking like she was about stab someone and the taller one’s lips twisting in bitter distaste — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Warden Snow,” Daenerys greets in return, her smile now almost looking like she was baring her teeth in warning; a sign of dominance that any wolf would know to back away from, unless it was a fight they were after. “I welcome you to the Summit with open arms. I do hope that the amenities within the Keep will be enough to sate you during the duration of your stay.” Violet eyes flicker to icy blue just behind him. “If there’s something you need, you’re more than free to find an attendant that will help you with any issue you may have.”

You stifle the urge to curse under your breath at Daenerys’ veiled insult. It was no secret that House Stark, namely the red-headed she wolf, was at odds with House Targaryen; ever since Daenerys had blatantly told them that the North would not be gaining any form of independence, siting there was no justification for it, as Daenerys had barely gained anything from the short alliance they had brokered during the Long Night. Nor did the North have anything to truly offer since The Wall fell.

It’s an argument that still caused an icy frigidity from members of House Stark now — one that Daenerys didn’t deign important enough to deal with at the present moment, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t ever watchful for what the scheming mutts could be cooking up in order to gain a modicum amount of power for their insipid region — which is why, due to their close proximity, you could feel the steady presence of Grey Worm at your back, his rigid posture even more tense than usual due to the news that only he, and the Palace Healer, were privy to. His close proximity is something you’re sure Daenerys has taken note of, if her varying glances throughout the night were anything to go by, but she was constantly pulled in different directions before she was able to speak the words that clearly wished to escape.

Although aware of your close relationship to the Captain of her Queensguard, she was also aware of Grey Worm’s unfaltering fealty to her and how he would never cross a line that Daenerys had drawn in the sand the moment she had claimed you as her own; you were off limits. The only time anyone should ever enter your personal space, barring her and your handmaidens, and even they had a tight leash to tread with, was if they were pushing you out of the way of immediate danger.

You had told Grey that his proximity would be a red flag to your wife, but his protective instincts seemed to not care as he stared impassively at the three individuals at the bottom of the dais you were standing upon.

Knowing that this could only go one way, if the looks that were being exchanged between Daenerys and the youngest Stark were anything to go by, you step forward, placing a gentle hand to the small of your wife’s back. “I believe it’s time to give your speech, Dany,” you murmur. “And we both know you don’t want to keep this crowd waiting.”

While Daenerys doesn’t turn to face you fully, you’re well aware that you have her attention, her body leaning against the palm of your hand, the simple touch soothing the roaring fire that might have been into a gentle flame.

“You’re right, ñuha perzys.” A gloved hand ghosts across your hip, but Daenerys keeps her gaze resolutely forward. “I’m afraid I must cut this rather delightful exchange short. It’s about the time that I should be addressing the room.” Violet eyes glint sharply. “Wouldn’t wish for anyone to think I favor House Stark.”

Crisis averted, you think, observing the whispered conversation between the three as they left to find their seats. For now.

A soft touch to your cheek causes you to almost jump out of your skin, the sight Daenerys’ concerned expression doing little to sate the racing of your heart. “Are you well, dearest?” Worry colors her tone, eyes flashing with a protective fire. “You’ve seemed preoccupied all night.”

“I’m fine, Dany.” You cradle the hand that’s currently still doing the same to your cheek. “It’s just been a long day. I’m anticipating when it’ll all be over and I’ll get to be alone with you.”

You could tell that your wife felt the same, but something still lurked in violet depths that you adored so much. Something that made you want to curse once more — sometimes you hated how perceptive your wife was, even if the knowledge that she observed you to the point that she could pick apart the very foundations of your moods set you alight with adoration, you couldn’t help but wish that Daenerys would let this slide.

“I’m anticipating the same,” Daenerys replies, stepping back to offer you her arm; a gesture that you accept instantly. “But, for now, we must be the royals that Westeros demands us to be.”

Keeping your gaze locked with the seat that’d be your home for the next few hours, you completely miss the look Daenerys sends Grey Worm as he diligently follows behind you, never missing a step, remaining your ever loyal shadow, and the way her arm tightens around yours that much more because of it.

“I truly don’t know why I haven’t killed them yet,” Daenerys mutters, running gentle fingers through the tangled locks of your hair. Violet eyes staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedchamber. “It’d be so easy then I could simply appoint a new Warden of the North that wouldn’t annoy me so.”

Huffing out a laugh, you rest your chin on Daenerys’ clavicle, staring at her with soft eyes, despite the topic at hand, and press a light kiss to the patch of the skin that was easily available. It was later, hours after the dinner had ended, with the moon hanging high in the sky, but, despite the weight of the day bearing down upon your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like you were floating; here, in this bed, with your darling dragon, tangled naked in the rumpled sheets of your marital bed.

“Because you don’t wish to deal with the hassle such an action will cause, beloved,” you reply, knowing that Daenerys would appreciate your insight. “You’ve already dealt with two wars in this infernal landscape as it is. There’s no reason to fight another so soon. Not so early into your reign.”

Tendrils of your hair curl around pale fingers, a soft look etched upon her face; an expression that Daenerys only leveled at you and Drogon. “So much knowledge hidden behind such a beautiful face.” She strokes your cheek, love speaking through every action and echoed in the look upon your own face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, which is exactly why I wish to deal with those blasted mutts.” Her arm tightens around your naked form. “I don’t trust them, and I know they don’t trust me, nor do I think they’ll just let things go. They have a personal vendetta against me and I fear they’ll use you to rectify it.”

You nuzzle closer, comforted by your Khaleesi’s sweet scent. “We don’t know what the future may bring.” Some more than others. “But, I have hope that I’ll be protected.”

What was meant as a soothing gesture, an affirmation that Daenerys would always be able to keep you safe, seemed to have the complete opposite effect. Her pliable body going stiff against your own, hand halting its comforting movement, a sharpness entering her gaze.

“Dany?” You question, rising up onto your forearms to peer down at her. The silence settling over you like a thick blanket, a brooding entity that meant she was deep in thought, an elegant brow furrowed as she tried to corral her rampant thoughts. “What’s the matter?”

Finally, after another beat of tense silence, her eyes slip to meet your own. “Do you feel that confident with your security detail, ñuha perzys?”

“Yes?” Not understanding where this line of questioning was coming from you couldn’t help the slight lilt at the end of your answer. “Of course, I do.”

A stormy look falls across your wife’s face. “Really?” She straightens to lean against her pillow, now peering down at you. “You feel so confident when those very people almost got you killed by random mercenaries? I find that hard to believe.”

“I thought we went over this when it happened, Dany,” you sigh, finally sitting up to be on a more level field. Knowing now that you weren’t going to go back to snuggling anytime soon. “The two responsible for the oversight were dealt with, by your own hand if you recall, and the rest have more than made up for it. They won’t fail me or you again.”

“It was dealt with so swiftly due to my Captain straightening it out,” Daenerys snipes, arms crossed over her naked chest, the thin sheet having fallen around her hips sometime ago. “I don’t even want to imagine what those fools would have done without him.”

A small smile curls your lips. “Yes,” you agree. “Grey Worm did an excellent job at handling the situation. I’m thankful for his help and continued support.”

Your wife’s cheek twitches due to force in which she’s clenching her jaw, a sight that causes worry to bubble within your chest. Something had obviously set her off, but you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure it out. Leaning forward, you gently take Daenerys’ hand, releasing her white-knuckled grip on the sheet, and cradle it.

“But,” you continue, ensuring you maintained eye contact. “If it wasn’t for you, my darling dragon, I know that I would have been lost long ago. You’ve saved me from so much, Dany. You’re my constant protector, my most treasured companion, and my loving wife. I could never ask for, nor want, anyone else by my side, and I’m so thankful that I get to call you mine.”

The tender words, coupled by the unwavering sincerity in your voice, finally causes Daenerys to slacken, violet eyes going soft as a hint of embarrassment reddens her cheeks. Slim hands soon finding their way around your waist to pull you back into her embrace, head nestled in the crook of her neck, as she seems to simply breathe you in.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Warm breath ghosts across your skin, a phantom touch that raises the fine hairs on your arms. “I think the long days, coupled with being around boastful imbeciles constantly, has muddled my mind more than I would like.” Long fingers curl underneath your chin, tilting your head back just enough so you could see the beginnings of a smile curling full lips. “Even getting to the point where I thought you were hiding something from me.” Daenerys huffs out a laugh, clearly perplexed at herself, even as you feel your blood freeze in your veins. “And do you want to know the funniest thing?”

Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, a suddenly dry throat trying desperately to make any sort of sound. “W-What?”

“I believed Grey Worm was in on it.” Daenerys rolls her eyes, scoffing. “I couldn’t help but notice how attentive he’s been of you as of late. Always being one step behind you at all times.” Lean arms, that hide a strength few were ever privy to, flex around your body, pulling you closer. “Can you believe I thought something was going on between you?”

Laughter bubbles in your throat at the outlandish insinuation — you could never want, or ask for, anyone else — but the strain around your eyes, as you desperately tried to keep it together, was apparent, but Daenerys, lost in her own thoughts, obviously trying to come to terms with how she could come to such a conclusion, didn’t notice.

You weren’t sure if that fact was fortunate or not.

Soon Daenerys, curled protectively around you, falls asleep, after a final whispered apology, her gentle breathing a soothing melody that you have grown to adore over the years you’ve spent in her bed. Normally, you’d be quick to follow your Khaleesi into the land of dreams, but her words, the thinly veiled accusations, the quickly shifted in self-deprecating jokes, kept the lull of oblivion from claiming your mind.

The very notion that you’d ever cheat on Daenerys was laughable — something that would never cross your mind, an annoying gnat that you simply swatted away without a second glance — but the knowledge that she believed you wouldn’t keep something from her unsettled you. Of course, you knew you had good reasoning behind your decision, but it still stung all the same; feeling like you were betraying your wife somehow.

Your wife didn’t have faith in many people — the ones she used to were either dead, imprisoned, or gone from her life in some other fashion — which left only a small handful left: Drogon, Grey Worm, and yourself.

The Summit will be over in three days. You just have to hold out for three more days.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force the thoughts, and the feelings they invoke, from your mind as you nuzzle closer to your wife; heart aching when she instantly brings you closer in response.

Just three more days, my love, you think, pressing closer. Three more days and then I can tell you the news that we’ve both been so desperate for. Just three more days…

It never seemed like such a large amount of time before.

Guilt, you learn, did not go well with pregnancy.

You weren’t able to be around Daenerys for long after that night — knowing what you did and what you were keeping from her — which was something that could easily be explained due to how hectic the daily life usually was in King’s Landing; now multiplied even further due to the Summit. Feigning different duties around the castle was simple, even if you missed your wife terribly during the long hours apart, that ache was easier to handle then the one that erupted every time you looked into her soft gaze.

The guilt, coupled with your own growing symptoms of your condition, caused your stomach to twist constantly, ensuring that you spent a large portion of the day keeled over a bucket with Grey Worm standing watch.

Of course, after the first day, when you only greeted Daenerys with a fleeting kiss to the cheek, and an airy greeting mixed soon after with a brief farewell, your wife began to grow concerned, her gaze often seeking you out within the crowded room of nobles and dignitaries. Uncaring of anyone that may be trying to talk to her, her attention focused solely on you alone, something you wouldn’t normally mind, except for the simple fact that you’d sing like a canary if she leveled you with inquisitive look one more time.

You hadn’t come this far to mess up on the last day of the Summit; the final meeting being hosted in the Dragon Pit, recently reconstructed to an echo of its former glory. Although your darling son refused to even grace the structure with his presence unless it was to deliver you and Daenerys.

“Are you feeling well, Your Grace?” The familiar presence settled a half-step behind you, his accented voice a relief over the miasma of varying conversations that were occurring as people prepared to head over to the Dragon Pit. “Do you require anything?”

“No,” you reply, side-stepping an obviously over encumbered stable hand, as you spot the hulking obsidian mass that was Drogon; the people unfortunate enough to have left their things where he decided to land were scuttling around him like frantic ants, his own expression one of boredom if it was ever possible for a reptilian face to showcase such an emotion. “I’ll be fine for now. Thank you, Grey.”

At the sound of your approaching voice, Drogon swings his head in your direction, crimson eyes lighting up in recognition, as a gentle croon rumbles from deep within his chest. The people around him pause their activities, afraid that he may lunge any second, but your son didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he lowered his head to give you easy access to scratch the underside of his chin, pebbled scales warm against your cool fingers.

“I’ve missed you too.” You smooth your hand out against his jaw, an adoring smile on your face. “Need to make sure that I carve out more time to see you in the future.”

You can’t even begin to imagine how lonely he must feel — what was once three was now only one — if the ache in your chest was anything to go by it must be difficult; something you didn’t wish for your son to go through alone.

A son, you quickly notice, that was now pressing his snout against your stomach, a low rumble sounding from deep within his throat, not unlike the croon he released earlier, but this, coupled with the protective glint in his fiery gaze, made you understand, with perfect clarity, that Drogon knew. That he had no doubt about the life you were now carrying.

“I know that you and your mama have this special connection,” you whisper, scratching his jaw. “Like the one that I shared with Viserion, but you can’t give her any hints about what you’ve discovered.” Crimson eyes flicker in understanding, his intelligence shining through. “Do you think you’ll be able to hold your protective instincts back for the day, Drogon?”

You knew, even as you asked, that it would be like asking Daenerys the same exact thing. Something that causes your stomach to twist once more. You could play off Grey Worm’s presence and increased vigilance, as he had been appointed to your guard until competent ones were found, but Drogon? Your wife would instantly be able to tell that something was happening, and it probably wouldn’t take her any time at all to discover what it was.

Which meant that you wouldn’t be able to fly with Daenerys to the Dragon Pit; something you had been looking forward to as it’d give you a chance to be with your wife, soaring over the city she had claimed, and may cause the growing suspicion to die within her gaze.

“Ready to go, ñuha perzys?” Daenerys’ lovely voice causes you to startle, wide eyes meeting her questioning one. “I believe we’ll be able to do a few laps around King’s Landing before the first people arrive at the Dragon Pit.” A charming smile catches your wife’s lips. “Giving us a chance to spend time with one another. I’ve missed you the last few days.”

The genuine statement causes your heart to twist, your stomach lurching, but you maintain your smile, hoping that you didn’t look as faint as you felt. “I was actually thinking of taking Nox.” You gesture to the dark stallion, his large stature easily seen over the fences of his stable. “Grey Worm has been meaning to show me something, and it’s on the way to the Dragon Pit, so I thought I’d just do both at once.”

While the genial smile doesn’t fall from Daenerys’ lips, the fire behind her eyes grows with intensity until it’s almost scalding across your skin. “Grey Worm?” At the mention of his name from his Queen’s mouth, the aforementioned man steps from his place in the shadows. Forever dutiful, even if it meant walking straight into the gaping maw of a dragon. “You wish to go with Grey Worm instead of me?”

Any other time the incredulous tone within your wife’s voice, causing it to turn almost shrill, would have made you chuckle, but you could see the darkness that was beginning to become apparent — one that had a propensity to turn lethal if it wasn’t dealt with appropriately — and you wanted nothing more than to chase those shadows away; to bring your wife back into the light.

Just a few more hours, you try to soothe yourself. Just a few more hours and this will all be behind you. You’ll be able to tell Dany and everything will right itself.

“Yes,” you reply, maintaining an air of obliviousness in hopes that Daenerys wouldn’t press the issue further. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to let Nox stretch his legs for some time now. You know how Dothraki horses can be, Dany. They’ll only get more irritable the longer they’re cooped up.”

Violet eyes shift from you, to Grey Worm, all the way to the aforementioned stallion across the courtyard, until they land back on you; the expression on her face made you glad that this would be the last day of the Summit, because you know that Daenerys was at the end of her patience, that she wouldn’t let you get away with this one. For now, as the sounds of various voices finally broke in through the haze of everything untold, and Daenerys allows herself to shift back into her queenly stature.

Even though, you knew, that it’d only take one more thing for the bow to break, and then nothing would keep her from finding the answers she’s seeking.

“Very well.” Her tone clipped, detached in a way that stings your heart, Daenerys easily mounts Drogon and stares down at you. “I hope that your journey to the Dragon Pit is fruitful, but do be prepared for the discussions that’ll take place once we return to the Keep.”

And, with those parting words, and one last gentle nudge from Drogon, Daenerys is in the air, soaring higher into the sky until she breaches the clouds. You wish, more than anything, you were with her and your son, but you know that this was the right course of action. Even if it felt like it was the absolute worst.

Grey Worm settles beside you. “I wasn’t aware there would be more talks after the meeting held at the Dragon Pit.”

“There isn’t.” Your stomach twists, meeting concerned brown eyes with a grim expression. “That was a direct summons for me, and only me, by my darling wife.”

The heavy doors of your bedchamber close with a sharp bang behind you, a sound that almost causes you to flinch if it wasn’t for the woman watching you from across the room garnering all of your attention instantly. Daenerys had already changed out of her court attire — wearing a simple dress instead of the black ensemble she had been wearing, the very one she had worn upon conquering King’s Landing — but she looked anything but relaxed.

“You’ve been avoiding me, dearest.” It’s not a question, simply a statement of fact, as Daenerys stalks towards you. “And I’ve been trying to figure out why. Why would my darling wife not wish to be in my presence? Why would my most cherished companion not wish to see me?” She’s closer now, close enough for you to see the rage that’s beginning to build in her slim form. “And do you know what I uncovered? The only possible reason I could come up with?”

You’re not going to like this. “What?”

“Guilt,” Daenerys snarls, lips pulling into a sneer. It’s clear she was trying to rein herself in, that her famous temper wished to unleash itself, but, even now, when she was at her breaking point, she’d never wish to turn it on you. Something that both breaks and reassembled your heart. “You’re guilty about something. To the point that you practically reek with it now. Of course, I truly don’t know what you could feel guilty about, until I remembered the conversation we had a few nights ago.”

Oh no…

She’s pacing in front of you now, a short line that doesn’t take her too far from you, but gave enough room to excise some of the energy bubbling within her. “A conversation wherein I explicitly told you that I believed you and Grey Worm were hiding something from me. Where you told me that I didn’t have to worry.” The sharpness in her tone, the accusation within her eyes, were like physical blows. “So, I truly don’t know what to believe. Should I believe my wife, who’s been pulling away from me, or should I believe my gut instinct and deal with the problem immediately?”

Your eyes snap to look at Daenerys, horror-stricken. “Deal with the problem? What in the Seven Hells do you mean by the that, Daenerys?” Stepping closer to your wife, when she doesn’t answer immediately, you can’t help the desperate lilt from entering your voice. “What have you done to Grey Worm? Did you do something to him? Answer me!”

“Begging for your lovers life already?” Anger twists her face, shrouding the deep love you know she has for you. “I haven’t done anything, but make no mistake that it means I won’t. I’m going to make that man remember that when you swear fealty to House Targaryen it’s for life, and there isn’t any room for dissenters.”

Lover?

An even more horrific realization strikes you like an arrow to the chest.

“You think he’s my lover?” Barring the complications that would already bring due to the environment Grey was raised in, you couldn’t even begin to comprehend him in that manner. Nor could you ever imagine wanting anyone else beside your wife. “No, Dany, no.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and move to settle on the end of your bed. This wasn’t how you wanted to tell her — over a nice dinner, after a nice ride on Drogon, or simply curled up together in this very bed — but you had created this situation and now you had to go with where it’s led you. Looking up, taking note that Daenerys had trailed after you, a gentle smile curls your lips and you beckon your wife closer.

“Grey Worm isn’t my lover, Dany. Nor will he ever be. I know that things have been tense these last few days, but I never wish for you to think that I’d ever be unfaithful to you.” Taking her hand, you tug her pliant body closer, even if you could still see the tension within the rigidity of her shoulders. “You are, and will forever be, my first, my last, and my always.” You place a tender kiss to her clothed abdomen, leaning into her comforting warmth. “Why would I ever want anyone else when I have my Khaleesi?”

Slender fingers run through your hair, the familiar motion allowing your eyes to slip shut contentment. “Then what has been going on, ñuha perzys? You haven’t been yourself and I still have half a mind to take Grey Worm to the dungeons to get him to answer me.”

Looking up, resting your chin on her abdomen, you peer into the violet gaze that you adore. “You’re not going to do anything to Grey Worm, Daenerys. He hasn’t done anything except be a good friend to me and faithfully serve me to the best of his ability.” Standing up, you easily maneuver Daenerys to settle in the position you had just been in, now looking down at your beautiful wife. “Which is something you’ve desperately wanted for me, if I recall.”

“Not if it means that I’m kept in the dark about you.”

The petulant pout causes a tender expression to fall across your features, love and adoration sparking within your heart, as you look at the woman that could turn the world to ash in an instant melting into your gentle touch. And, in that moment, you knew it was time.

So, without preamble, you take one of her hands and gently place it on your abdomen in return. “I didn’t wish to tell you until the Summit was over because it was too important to screw up, and I’m well aware how you get when my health is involved.” Your fingers ghost across her sharp jawline, watching as the beginning of her understanding begins to spark within her gaze. “Add our unborn child’s health too? The Summit would have ended like a Dothraki Wedding if you had your way, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

There’s a beat of silence wherein Daenerys digests the news, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face, before complete and utter jubilation takes its prominent spot.

“You’re pregnant?” Her hand presses gently against the spot you had placed it, wanting to get closer to the life that lay within. “We’re going to be parents?”

You grin. “We’re having a baby, Dany.”

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in the tightest embrace Daenerys had ever given you, happy tears staining the skin of your neck as she nuzzles closer. You’re well aware that she was going to have a talk with you about your secrecy at a later date, especially given the fact that Grey Worm knew before her, but, for now, she was content in simply holding you in her arms, the both of you sharing in the happiness the moment brought.

“Drogon won’t be alone anymore.” Violet eyes look down at your abdomen with utmost affection. “He’ll finally have a sibling again.”

You press your forehead against hers. “The dragons will be returning to Westeros, my Khaleesi, and the skies will once again be filled with dragon song.”

“And everyone will know the power of House Targaryen.”

“Yes,” you murmur, pressing your lips to hers in a chaste embrace. “As well as the woman who leads them.”

“The women,” Daenerys gently corrects. “For I’d still be lost if I didn’t have my darling Queen by my side.”

“And I’d never know that I was cold without the gentle flame of your love keeping me warm.” You lean into her touch, pressing your bodies firmly together. “You brought me to life, Dany, and I’ll never take the love you’ve given me for granted.”

Daenerys smiles. “Together we will bring back what has been stolen from my family, we will right the wrongs that have plagued this land, and we’ll ensure that our children will be able to reap the benefits once we’re done.” She smooths her hand across your abdomen. “Even if it means Fire and Blood will be paid in penance to make it happen.”

“Together.”

For one couldn’t be without the other — the Khaleesi and her Queen — as it always should be.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #daenerys imagine #house of the dragon

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happypopcornprincess · 4 months ago

Text

Under the Same Sky Part 2

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.2K

Warnings: Gore, blood, SMUT, minors DNI

a/n - I'm sorry for being late about the second part, a relative of mine passed away after new year and I was with family. This part is dedicated to all the lover girls by heart out there. may you find your lover and have an amazing story. Hope you guys like it <3 Take care.

The wind picked up speed as Lucas and his team stepped on the backyard of the Wilson Residence. Guns drawn, stance ready, they took the steps to the back entrance.

Nadia and Artie moved in first, Matt in tow and Lucas in the end. They hear not a single sound around them. Matt signaled clear after checking the rooms and the kitchen, Nadia let her shoulders relax watching him sign.

“Where are they?” Artie whispered.

The radio in the kitchen turns on its own accord…

Can't stay at home, can't stay at school

Old folks say, "Ya poor little fool"

Down the streets I'm the girl next door

I'm the fox you've been waiting for!

Lucas shoots the radio; the broken device fell to the floor with a thud. A scratched-out sound of Cherry Bomb still playing on.

“That’s a shame…”

Nadia was too slow to turn before you hit her head with the butt of your Glock, “I love that song.”

Artie fell on the floor as Joaquin kicked him in the back, you advanced towards Matt. The first thing that bastard did was to kick off the floor and punch you square in the jaw, but you duck in record time, just to kick his feet off the ground and lose your Glock in the process.

Joaquin got busy with Artie and Lucas, who had teamed up to defeat him. Lucas ducked a kick on his chest, and Artie tried to stab him in the neck. Joaquin got a knife out of his belt and fought with all his might, after throwing Lucas on the kitchen table.

Matt was twice your size, he got up in no time trying to throw you off your feet but you were smarter than that, you ran on the wall, kicking off it and using the velocity to climb his shoulders. You pull a hidden wire from your wrist, falling back and choking him in the process. Matt fought hard to get a hold of you, but you pressed on harder. His movements slowed down, and eventually he stilled as you released the wire.

Joaquin was pinned down on the ground with Artie on top of him, his blade inches away from his windpipe. Joaquin pushed hard on his end of blade, trying to nick off his collarbone. Lucas came rushing towards them now recovered from being thrown on the table… Joaquin threw off all his strength to turn his entire body sideways, which in turn put Artie on the side, giving him a chance to stab him just where his neck met his shoulder.

You got up to rush to Lucas, but fell face first feeling a stronghold on your ankle. Turning, you meet a very pissed off looking Nadia with blood covering her face.

She held a Glock, your glock, aiming at you. You kick her in the face, grabbing your knife in the holster. You sit up to stab her in the back, just an inch away from her heart.

So why was it that you felt a sharp jab on your shoulder?

You look at the source, only to see a blade sticking out of your right shoulder. Nadia’s hand being the holder. She looked you right in the eye as she twisted the blade deeper. You grunt, stabbing the woman again and again until she stopped.

Unbearable pain clouded your senses, but Joaquin’s voice brought you back to your senses, turning towards him to see him spar with Lucas, taking punches and pulling ones. You got on your knees to snatch your Glock from Nadia’s dead fingers, keeping an eye on Joaquin.

Blood ran down his elbow from his palm, he staggered on his feet trying to get a jab at Lucas, but found himself covered in his brains once you shot Lucas in the forehead.

You sighed, feeling your tank top getting wet with blood. It felt like an out of body experience, Natasha’s voice echoing somewhere inside your head; “Your brain is in shock trying to process the pain. Get the blade out, press on a cloth and get the hell out of here before one of them wakes up.”

“y/n, look at me.” Joaquin grabbed your face, making you look at him. He glanced at the knife sticking out of your body. “This might hurt.” Saying so he pulled on the blade, prying it off.

You screamed out loud as he pressed hard on your shoulder with a cloth bandage.

How are you lying on the floor?

Joaquin lifted you up like you weighed nothing, “We gotta go. Come on…” resting your head on his shoulder, you try not to pass out looking at the blood running down his face.

------------------------------

Seeing double with an open stab wound was never good news. Joaquin’s jacket did enough to hide the blood and bandage on your shoulder, but it was only a matter of time until some keen observer in the hotel lobby looked at you long enough to know you were unwell.

Leaning on the wall next to you, you watched as Joaquin came towards you and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, careful of your wound, he whispers, “you alright?”

“Kinda.” Your words came out slurred.

“Let’s go.” He led you towards your room, and despite knowing there was no chance of you being followed, you still looked over your shoulder.

As soon as the door opened, you limped towards the bed and Joaquin closed the door and the blinds. Taking off your jacket, you made the rookie mistake of taking a glance at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was unkempt, your tank top’s strap was torn to pieces, the entire right side of your body covered in blood. The open wound right under your collarbone stared back at you through the mirror.

The room suddenly felt too small, the taste of metal heavy on your tongue.

“whoa!” Joaquin grabs your left side before you fall to the floor, his eyes find yours, and it is then you see the hidden fear in his eyes. He acted fine until now, witnessing the amount of damage on your body.

He helps you sit on the bed, and lean back on the headboard while pressing his jacket on your torso before tearing off your straps. Holding out a piece of rolled up fabric, he holds out to your mouth, “you’ll need this.” You’ve been through this before, never on this scale; but you don’t argue with him before biting into it.

The last thing you felt before blacking out was the burning sensation of rubbing alcohol on your skin and Joaquin’s hand holding yours.

----------------------------

The smell of spirit lingered in the air, as you were woken up from deep sleep by a gentle voice. Opening your eyes, you see the bedside digital clock showing 02:18, and your eyes travel to Joaquin sitting on a chair next to the bed. His white vest had spots of blood, your blood, on it. His right hand was bandaged poorly, and the cut above his eyebrow had two butterfly tapes.

“You scared me for a while.” He says while gently caressing your forehead.

“What happened?” you groaned, trying to sit up, he placed a pillow behind you as you leaned back on the headboard. You look down at your body to find your tank top gone, and you wore Joaquin’s Air Force T Shirt. You look at him again to see his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his eyes heavy. He hadn’t slept the entire night.

“You passed out while I was cleaning your wound, I woke you up to give you some medicines, and you fell asleep.”

“I don’t remember that.” You huffed out, looking at the ceiling.

Joaquin holds your hand, and you feel the rough bandage on your skin, “are you alright?” you look at him and his line of vision, which were trained on your hand.

“yeah.” You sit up straighter, and take his hand in yours, “I’m fine Joaquin, hey,” you gently hold his face that makes him look at you, “I promise.” You smile.

You rest his injured hand on your lap and open the bandage to redo it properly. The next few minutes are spent in silence, the occasional honk and sound of passing vehicles outside being the only noise. You take a proper look at his hand after you’re done, and you bring it to your lips to kiss.

Joaquin inhales sharply as your lips touch his fingers, and your eyes lock on his.

“I thought I would lose you today.” He says, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

“I ain’t going anywhere Joaquin. I’m right here.” Your voice came out as a whisper, and he held your face in his hands.

He looks into your eyes again, silently asking for your consent, and your reply wordlessly by leaning towards him.

The kiss was gentle.

Joaquin’s lips were featherlight on yours and you closed your eyes to feel him whole. Holding the back of his neck you brought him closer as you fell back on the headboard, and he climbed the bed to hover over you.

You kiss each other slowly, letting go of the fear of losing each other flow through it.

You savor it; the warmth of his body, his breath on your face, his hands on your waist. He continues to kiss you as his hands traveled your body, and you didn’t open your eyes in fear that it was some kind of dream.

He cautiously pulls you down on the mattress, your back meeting the sheets of your motel bed. Joaquin gets on his knees to take off his vest, tossing it on the floor. Your eyes couldn’t leave his toned torso, and his broad shoulders covered you entirely when he leaned forward, trailing kisses on your neck. The contrast in the touch of both his hands; one bandaged and one not… you closed your eyes yet again to just feel his touch on your skin. You couldn’t breathe by the way he bit your neck, and you arched your back as his hands gathered the t-shirt to roll it up to your ribs.

“We can stop if you want to.” He says in between kisses, and you moan, “no, please… don’t.”

“As you wish…” he says, his breath hot on your neck. He kissed you right in the valley of your breasts, and sucked on your skin.

You locked eyes with him as he carefully removed the t-shirt off of your body, leaving you in only your jeans. You grabbed a fistful of his hair as his lips left open mouthed kisses on your nipples, you heard him moan as he squeezed your breasts, a sound that made you pull on his hair harder, which only made him louder.

Joaquin made quick work on his belt as you quickly removed your jeans, but he clutched your hand halfway, “wait…” stumbling on his words, “uh… you’re hurt… let me…” he held your jeans and you let them go, as he pulled them down your legs and on the floor.

His hands caressed your thighs, and his gaze lingered on your body. The intensity of it made you shiver, but it wasn’t lust you saw in them.

He wanted you, needed you. Recalling the kiss that you shared earlier today; this was the complete opposite of it. This was pure adoration.

You were his reverence.

While the shadow of his tousled hair masked his forehead, he locked eyes with you. As he lowered his body bringing his face closer to your thighs, you didn’t dare look away. You arched your back as Joaquin’s arms held you down, his muscles flexing as he kissed your inner thigh, and a loud whine left your lips as he tasted you on his tongue.

He stopped only when your moans turned into screams, and when you looked at him while heaving for breath, he was gasping for air, his pupils blown, but the gaze still gentle.

You locked your legs on his waist before you could stop yourself, and tossed him on the bed. Now he was under you, and you could feel how eager he was as you looked down at his tented boxers.

Joaquin caressed your waist, “take it easy, y/n.” as he shifted his gaze to your injured shoulder.

“Sure.” you breathed out, heart racing, as you lifted yourself up while he removed his boxers. As soon as you touched him to stroke, he fell back on the bed, his brows knit in pleasure. You laughed; watching how he was reacting to your touch.

“Huh… that wasn’t funny, querida.” he huffed, and you gasped as he grabbed your waist to pull himself up.

Joaquin was now inches away from your face, his chest pressed to yours as he locked his arms around your waist. You tried to wrap yours around his neck, but you hissed as a sharp pain shot through your injured shoulder straight to your neck.

“Ow!” you buried your face on the nape of his neck, as he stiffened within you.

“Told you to take it easy.” he whispered as he caressed your hair, “you wanna stop?”

“No,” you whined, lifting your face to look at him, “no… I…” you huffed out, “I want you.”

He exhaled, replying with a warm smile, “okay.”

Joaquin gently held both of your wrists and brought your hands to his face to let you hold on to his neck, and you gladly did. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and closed his eyes before leaving a kiss on your lips. He pulled you closer as you lowered yourself on him, moaning in each other’s mouths. As you moved, he kept on kissing you.

Your pace increased as you felt his heartbeat on your skin, his hands grabbing your back. He kissed your face as you lifted your chin, leaving trails on your face and reaching your neck, but you grabbed his hair, pulling him back and exposing his neck to you. Sucking on his neck, you hugged him back, the sharp jab on your shoulder now least of your worries. He pushed into you as you continued to suck and bite his skin wherever you could. He tried his best not to pull your hair, but failed as he grabbed a handful by the end only to bring you closer.

Fighting for air, you kissed him on his mouth… stroking him even after he came inside you.

Joaquin fell back on the bed, bringing you into his arms; exhausted, spent, the two of you fighting for breath.

You shifted to your uninjured side and you held him while resting your head on his chest; groaning, he adjusted himself so you could lay your head in his arms and stroked your hair,

Both you and Joaquin couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. He was a sight to behold—his unruly hair sticking to his forehead, his face flushed, and the marks you left on his skin gradually shifting in color.

“You good?” he whispers, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your bare back.

“Yeah. You?” you murmur, feeling the weight of sleep beginning to settle in.

A chuckle bubbles in his throat, and you can't help but smirk when he slaps a hand over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you tease, poking his cheek.

“You are…” he sighs, his voice serious but amused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really skilled with what you did earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a giggle. “You mean the way I body-slammed a Flag Smasher? Or are you talking about…”

“Uh…” He glances up at the ceiling, and you swear you see him blush. “Both.”

You both burst into laughter, and he pulls the covers over you, tucking you close to him. As your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat when his fingers trail over your bare back once more.

“Can’t we stay like this forever?” he asks, his voice soft. “This feels like a dream.”

“It’s real.” You reach up, your fingers gently brushing the cut over his eye. “And even if it is a dream, it’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

His gaze softens at your words, and with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he confesses, “Stay right here, will you?”

You nod, your voice a quiet whisper. “Yes.”

And with that, you slip into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

--------------------------------

Three Weeks Later, Wilson Residence

Karli was dead, the Flag Smashers were wiped out in a mysterious blast (which Zemo swore he had no part in), and John Walker had vanished off the radar. Sam was now Captain America. You and Joaquin had managed to sit that one out due to injuries, and life—relatively speaking—was almost back to normal.

The last three weeks had been the most peaceful stretch you’d had since the Thanos attack in New York. After a brief visit to Sarah’s newly renovated house—where Sam had to fight you off when you offered to pay for everything—you and Joaquin were finally heading to Arizona. He was finally going to take you to see the Canyons, a promise he’d made all the way back in that attic you two had shared.

It was night now, the kids were asleep, but the dinner table in the Wilson residence was anything but quiet, as Sam and Bucky were recounting the first time they met Spiderman.

“…and we got this kid climbing on the roof, he slams Bucky onto the floor, and screams out something about impressing Tony…”

“…and then he webs you to the escalator…” Bucky grumbles in-between.

“…I was getting to that! Anyways, I let redwing take care of the rest and send him flying through the airport and dump him midair. Ha!” Sam laughs, waiting for a reaction.

Sarah leans forward, utterly bewildered, “So you dropped a kid midair because he webbed you to an escalator?”

Bucky stops her with a laugh, “In our defense, he was on the opposite team!”

You couldn't help teasing him, “Still, you attacked a kid.”

Sam threw a baby carrot at you. “Okay, okay! Stop throwing food, Sam. What are you, five?”

Sam was about to throw another one at youtube bucky grabbed the baby carrots bowl and passed it to sarah, who gladly put it out of his reach.

You shifted your attention to Joaquin, who was looking at the whole ordeal trying not to laugh. The cut above his eye had almost healed, only a faint trail of new skin the only sign that there ever was any injury.

“We have something to tell you guys,” Joaquin said, his voice a little too casual for the tension in the air. He reached under the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You squeezed his hand in return, giving him a warm smile before you turned to look at Sam, Bucky, and Sarah.

Joaquin looked at you, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, and then he said it: “Y/N and I are dating.”

The table went silent for a second, and then Sarah’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you both!”

Sam laughed loudly, throwing his head back, while Bucky froze, fork halfway to his mouth.

Bucky stared at the two of you in disbelief, his fork clicking loudly as it dropped to his plate. “Wait a minute... how long has this been going on?”

You winced. “About three weeks, maybe?”

Bucky groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “Three weeks? So, you’ve been hiding this from us?”

Joaquin shifted nervously in his seat. “Yeah, about that.”

“I swear, if you hurt Y/N—” Bucky's voice turned deadly serious, his Vibranium arm rising as he pointed it at Joaquin. “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Joaquin quickly held up his hands. “I would never—”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, satisfied. “Just making sure, You two gross me out.” Bucky side eyes you as you respond by leaving a loud smooch on Joaquin’s cheek.

“Yeah, I’m gonna throw up.” Bucky grimaces and gets up from the table with his beer.

“Get outta here old man.” You scream, all in playfulness as he slams the porch door. Bucky had a knick of theatrics, and you knew deep down he was happy for you.

“He didn’t mean that, Buck’s a secret romantic and I bet you ten bucks he’s crying happy tears on the back porch.” Sam tells you both as you begin to clear out the table.

“I know.” You laugh, helping Joaquin with the dishes.

As Sarah and Sam left for their rooms, you and Joaquin took over cleaning the kitchen. The house fell into a quiet rhythm, the only sound the soft hum of the water running in the sink as you both washed the dishes.

“That went well,” Joaquin said, nudging your shoulder as you stacked the plates in the drying rack.

“Don’t worry, Sam and Sarah adore you. Bucky does too, he’s just... well, too stubborn to show it.” You rolled your eyes, feeling his hands wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you close.

He kissed your neck lightly as you finished stacking the last of the plates. “That was the last one,” you said, leaning back into him, letting yourself enjoy the closeness.

“Mmm-hmm...” You smirked, resting your hands on his as he tightened his grip around your waist.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning back further into his chest. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his breath soft in your ear.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” he grumbled, his voice low and inviting as he hugged you tighter.

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder. “We’re sleeping on the couch, babe.”

His hands moved slowly to your hips as he nuzzled your neck, “Wanna take this to the couch then?” His playful tone was backed by the softest puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

Before you could even consider it, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Bucky’s voice rocked through the silence, causing both you and Joaquin to spring apart. You quickly went back to acting busy with the already stacked plates, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Bucky sighed loudly, his eyes toward the ceiling. “Please, for the love of god, tell me you two weren’t... doing that in Sarah’s kitchen.”

Joaquin let out a nervous, “...no.” His face flushed, making you stifle a laugh.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “I swear, you two...”

“Bucky,” you said, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Were you crying?”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately shot you a glare. “No. I’m just... tired.” He slumped his shoulders dramatically. “And I’m taking the couch.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “You two can take the mattress on the floor. But if I hear so much as a whisper from either of you, I’ll kick you out myself.”

With that, he stormed off, muttering under his breath.

You turned to Joaquin, fighting back a grin. His face was bright red, and his embarrassment was almost too adorable to handle. “Looks like we have to wait until we’re in Arizona,” you said with a sympathetic swat to his arm.

Joaquin groaned, “You know, I’m starting to think Bucky’s secretly shipping us.”

You shot him a wink as you walked out of the kitchen, “He’s just really protective. Come on.”

You patted his arm sympathetically, but then, with a mischievous grin, said, “What about the attic?”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

You opened your mouth to say yes, as your heart raced just by remembering his touch on your skin, but before you could, Bucky’s voice shouted from the other room.

“I swear to god, I will get a restraining order against the two of you! Don’t even think about it!”

--------------------------------------

Taglist

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @iamthebeth @thefandomqueenuno @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @samwilson-mylove @jenniweaslee-faves @anna-phora @fluffyprettykitty

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

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dooberific · 4 months ago

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❝ 𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘴 ❞

lighter lorenz x afab!reader

genre: slice of life

summary: your most consistent “customer” always ends up crawling back to you

wc: 2k

“I should charge you extra for this, Lorenz,” you drawled, popping the screen door open with your hip as you walked back out onto the porch, a pair of scissors twirling on your finger. With practiced ease you snapped them into your hand, pointing the sharp tip in his direction.

“I don’t take well to traitors.”

You could see his eyebrows raise behind his sunglasses, a low whistle passing his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time, boss.”

“You better, I’m not one to give chances freely.” You teased before nodding your head towards the steps of your porch.

“Now take a seat, scruffy, we’ll see if we can’t make a Champion out of you yet.”

You grinned as he plopped dutifully down on your porch steps, long legs stretching out comfortably as he leaned back on his elbows. His head lolled back in your direction, vibrant shades of teal green twinkling over the gold rim of his glasses as he grinned in the same boyish, lopsided fashion you had grown to expect of him.

“That’s a big claim to make, saying you can make someone a champion with a pair of scissors.”

Your eyes rolled as you sat criss crossed behind him, plucking the sunglasses off his face before sliding them onto your head, watching the sharp recoil of his features when the burning orange glow of the setting sun assaulted his uncovered eyes. You pinched his bangs between your fingers, spreading the strands between the pads of your thumb and index before allowing them to feather back against his forehead.

“Well it’s certainly easier to win when you can actually see.”

He righted his head with a conceding sigh. “You’ve got me there.”

Your hands carded through his hair, thick waves of dark green-teal sliding between your fingers. It made you a bit angry that he had achieved an envious degree of volume and softness that a woman would kill for knowing that he was probably still using some 14-in-1 product that could strip grease off a floor, wash dishes, and his hair with the same bottle. Perhaps it was your sign that genetics could flourish under any circumstances, and that Lighter was simply god’s favorite delinquent.

“A barber with a waitlist, huh?” You mused, drawing a strand of his hair taunt between two fingers. The scissor blades shined like gold in the dying light, severing any split ends as you trimmed a few millimeters off.

“The city sure is a unique place.”

He hummed. “It’s not all bad, I guess.”

Part of you was inclined to disagree with him. You weren’t particularly fond of the city in any regard except for the variety in products offered. It was too noisy, too busy, too much stress over even the simplest of things.

It was a far cry from where you sat now, the evening sun warming your skin as the desert air of the Outer Ring carried the dry scents of sage and willow to your lungs, the landscape doused in a golden glow that stained the earthy reds of the stone in vibrant hues. The whistles of distant warblers and the rumble of engines zipping down the highways, the rustling of the tumbleweeds rolling over the packed earth, the gentle snipping of the scissors in your hands as stray hairs broke loose under the sharpened blades.

A melody of a deserted land that seemed so foreign and rogue to most evoked nothing but an easy sense of homely comfort. One that bathed the simplicity of your task in a halo of nostalgia, the texture of the porch under your legs, your chipped nail polish undercut with rich hues of raven green, the comfortable silence that filled the air reserved for close relationships.

Your nails tickled, featherlight touches brushing over the shell of his ear. He shuddered, goosebumps rising harshly on his skin under his jacket.

You dusted the stray hairs off his shoulders as you stood with a small groan, the grooves of the porch tattooing your legs with the texture of the worn wood. “Alright, I’m done.”

You pocketed your scissors, jerking a thumb towards the screen door. “Come in and wash up, can’t have you itching on the ride home.”

You held the door, propped against it as you watched him shed his jacket, shamelessly enjoying the tight planes of his muscles shifting under his t-shirt as he tossed his jacket over the porch rail, chased by the vibrant red of his scarf.

“You should be careful making offers like that,” He said as he sauntered past you, plucking his glasses off the top of your head. “You never know what kind of unsavory folks could wander out of the desert.”

You raised a brow in playful disbelief. “Maybe you should be careful accepting invitations to shower at strange women’s houses,” you countered as the door slammed loudly in its casing, though if it was the sound or the sharp way your hand connected with his ass that made him jump you weren’t fully sure.

You shot him a wink as he whipped around. “You never know what kind of unsavory things they could want in exchange~”

To say you enjoyed any chance to tease the legendary red scarf of the Sons of Calydon would be a massive understatement. It had always been that way, even from the first time Big Daddy showed up on your doorstep with him and asked you to whip him into shape.

He was thinner, hair shaggy and skin littered in bruises that stained it shades of red, purple and yellow. He didn’t talk at all then, shoulders hunched forward as you trimmed away months of disrepair, gave him a proper shave and shower and sent him off after a warm meal. It was purely transactional if not somewhat born from the pity that stirred in your gut at the hollow, glazed look in his eyes that lingered for months on end.

He would come back every few months for the same thing until his head stood a little taller, shoulders prouder, a healthy tan kissing his skin alongside the occasional bump or bruise brought on by one of his scrapes as new champion for the Sons of Calydon.

Conversation flowed a little more freely and lightly, the atmosphere of your simple home a backdrop for peaceful evenings even when your scissors weren’t needed, one of warm blankets draped over your bare legs as you sat on the porch swing, hot tea warming a ceramic glass between your chilled fingers as the cries of coyotes mingled with the deep purple sky, nothing but the stars as their witness.

Lighter still dutifully sat on the top step, boots thumping against the wood in tune with the crackle of the radio that whispered in from your kitchen where you left it running. You’d tease him about the girls in Blazewood or whatever pretty little number you had witnessed walk up to him on the street until his ears would stain with a hearty red flush, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he refuted your words and attempted to redirect the conversation.

If he really hated the teasing talks as much as he claimed you were confident he wouldn’t keep showing up with a case of Nitrofuel asking if you were free for the evening.

You placed a couple bowls on the table, the heat off the contents curling pleasantly under the yellowed bulb of the dining room light as you heard the shower shut off.

“Feeling like a new man yet?” You called through the door as you dropped some silverware in the bowls.

“It’s hard to beat a fresh cut.” He replied as the door to the bathroom swung open, his hair falling limply over his forehead still damp from the shower. Give it another few minutes to air dry and it would surely begin to curl and bounce back to life.

“I’d like to see one of those fancy city barbers have better customer service!” You stated matter of factly, waltzing up to lean on the doorframe, the light dancing over the apples of your cheeks as the floral scent of your Carlishe shampoo met your nose. The girls would give him a fit over it later to be sure.

He’s smiling at your small talk, a hand rubbing the line of his jaw thoughtfully as he squinted at his reflection in the mirror.

“You still keep those extra razors?”

You snorted. “Of course, how else can I service all the scruffy vagrants that wander through my door?”

You vanished from the doorway for a moment, and he could hear your feet thumping across the hardwood floor as you came and went, your face mischievous as you shouldered into the little bathroom with him and hopped up on the sink counter.

You brandished the single bladed razor with smug pride, a finger rising to crook in his direction as your lips curled invitingly. “Come here, Mr. Lorenz, and let me finish you off in a proper fashion.”

He was like putty in your hands and he stepped closer, hands braced on the sink at your side as your own hand came up to trace the curve of his jaw. It felt like old times, you mused to yourself, painting a thin layer of shaving cream against his skin. You used to do it all the time, though it was a bit more challenging when his skin was tender from the bruises that blossomed beneath the surface.

He didn’t hold eye contact with you then like he does now, vibrant hues of green smoldering under thick lashes trained on the curve of your lips, the delicate way your teeth teased the lower in concentration as you glided the blade across his skin with a skilled hand.

The scent of the spice in the shaving cream tickling your nose as it mingled with the florals of the shampoo, his breath warm as it fanned over your cheeks.

“If you keep staring like that,” you tapped the razor off in the sink, running the blade under the water as you turned back and met his gaze head on.

“I might think you like me a little more than just as your barber.”

“And what if I said I did?”

It came out in a breath, and you weren’t sure for a moment if it was accidental or intentional, some form of truth rolling in seas of green that you would never claim to be able to read. You stared at him for a long, silent moment, a challenge brewing on the tip of your tongue.

“You won’t.”

It was flat and to-the-point, a truth spoon fed by force down his throat like a bitter medicine to an unruly child. You placed the razor neatly on the side of the sink.

“You’re not brazen enough to jump into something without hesitation,” you elaborated, a hand rising to brush loose hairs behind your ear as you met his gaze once more. “And I think you value me too much as a friend to act carelessly.”

He huffed, fingers tapping on the countertop. “You say that like you’re confident that you know me or something.”

Your shoulders shrugged. “Not like you’ve been much of a stranger in the past.”

He couldn’t challenge you there if he tried, his very presence in your home right now a glaring reminder that the two of you had never been fully unfamiliar, always toeing some invisible line between friends and something a little past that. Maybe it did give him pause to think of upsetting the delicate balance of the game you seemed perpetually locked in.

You slipped off the counter, sliding past him without a word. You were like sand filtering between his fingers, there one moment and gone just as quickly if his grip relinquished even for a moment.

“I don’t mind waiting, I consider myself a rather patient person.” You spoke, your back turned to him as you plucked one of the bowls off the table. You spooned a helping into your mouth, humming thoughtfully as you turned, waggling your empty utensil at him.

“Jus’ be a good boy and don’t go cheating on me with another barber in the meantime.”

His grin was as crooked as ever.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Rey 2025

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zzz x reader #lighter zenless zone zero #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter #lighter zzz #lighter x reader

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pukefactory · 15 days ago

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•☽────✧˖°˖ GREAT CUSTOMER SERVICE ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Yandere Salesperson ENA X Yandere Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): Abusive Behaviour

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

★ Requested By: Anon

☆ You don’t remember who fell first. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was the moment you met, when she asked your name like it was a line in a sales pitch, and you gave it to her like it was your last will and testament. “Could I interest you in a life spent entirely in my proximity?” she said, Salesperson side smiling like an infomercial. You smiled back. The Meanie side narrowed her eye. “OH MY GØD. You’re smiling? What are you, a psycho?” “Yes,” you replied. And just like that, the contract was signed.

☆ You collect ENA’s discarded voice recordings like they’re pressed flowers. Her angry outbursts. Her poetic ramblings. Her emotional breakdowns. You catalog each one with timestamps and notes. She finds out. She doesn’t get mad. She starts recording custom messages for you. “Business update: You’re mine. That’s non-negotiable.” Or sometimes, in that crackling Meanie voice: “Tchhh—don’t go playing cute with other freaks. I’ll murder the trend.”

☆ ENA walks into your room, blood on her shoes. “There was…competition. Very limited-time offer.” You don’t ask who. You wipe the blood off with your sleeve and offer her tea. “Wanna watch that surveillance footage together? You looked sooooo brave.” “I did, didn’t I?” “Criminally charming.”

☆ You have both tried to poison each other. Not out of hate. Out of love. You just wanted to see if she’d be clever enough to survive. She was. She liked the taste. “You put foxglove in the tea?” “You drank the whole thing?” “We’re married now,” she declares. “Cool. Our vows will be televised.”

☆ She sends you a bouquet of audio files. Each one is a threat to someone who got too close to you. “Excuse me—PING!—you were seen looking at my darling with both eyes open. That is now a Class A felony. You have been reported to the love police.” “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! BACK OFF OR I’LL SHOVE YOUR HEAD INTO THE GENIE’S TOILET!” You play them on loop when you’re feeling low.

☆ You show up at her megaphone event with a knife in your pocket, a smile on your lips, and a homemade t-shirt that reads, ‘ENA IS MY GØD, GET LOST’. She sees you from the stage, stutters, then speaks in dual voices at once: “A blessed sermon! A capital campaign! MY DEVOTEE IS ARMED AND ADORABLE!” You blow her a kiss. Someone in the crowd blinks too long in your direction. They don’t blink again.

☆ Your love notes are like war declarations. Hers are like sales pitches written in blood. “I’m going to carve our initials into the psyche of this universe.” She writes back, “Let’s bundle that emotion with a limited-time offer! If you commit mass homicide in my name, I’ll give you a 30% increase in cuddles.” You frame that note and hang it above your bed.

☆ You both have matching calendars where you mark off each other’s violent outbursts as anniversaries. July 9th: ENA stabbed a flirtatious mannequin in the eye. August 12th: You mailed her a jar of someone else’s tears with a love poem tied to it. September 23rd: You screamed her name into the megaphone tower until your throat gave out. She tattooed the waveform across her stomach with her sharpest blade.

☆ Her Meanie side thinks you’re unstable. “OH, YOU’RE NUTS. EVEN I CAN’T STAND YOU!” Her Salesperson side giggles. “They love me so bad it hurts. Isn’t that romantic?” You kiss her right in front of herself and she short-circuits, screaming and blushing and threatening to rearrange the cosmos for a double date. She picks the Froggy as your chaperone. “To keep us out of trouble,” she lies. You’re both armed under the table.

☆ If she’s broken, you’re the wrecking ball that smashes her pieces into a prettier pattern. If you’re unhinged, she’s the velvet box the blade sleeps in. She curls into your lap one night, whispering like a lost confession: “I’m going to turn the world into a convenience store. And you’ll be the only item I’ll keep restocking.” You smile and say, “You’ll run out of shelf space before I run out of love.” Together, you make obsession look like art.

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ixloom819 · 1 month ago

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Him Above All (P2)

I never expected this to turn into a multiple part thing, but you guys have helped the brain worms go double time ._. There will probably be character inaccuracies but pls be patient with me

This is following this part. Please see the previous posts for trigger warnings and let me know if I’m missing any :)

If you had told yourself a year ago what your life would be like, you’d think it was a cringy self-insert fic.

But this was real, and it was agonizing.

The most unsettling part was how nothing seemed to change. Sylus was still as flirty and affectionate as he always was, like he was unbothered by the blood of his former beloved on his hands. Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto weren’t affected by Miss Hunter’s death either. Then again, you realized too late that you had taken up her role in this place. To them, Miss Hunter was someone who had taken up a bit of interest before disappearing. It was like she was never there.

Indeed, the only one that seemed to be affected was you. When before you’d shy away from Sylus, now you would go out of your way to avoid and ignore him. When you woke up from nightmares, now including her ghost condemning you, you refused to go to him for comfort, knowing that he was the cause of them.

Yet, nothing would deter Sylus. He’d follow you around and even hold you in place if he was feeling clingy. He’d be fine talking to you about anything, even when you didn’t respond. When the night terrors came, he’d come to your room when you didn’t come to his. You didn’t dare ask how he would know. He would hold you even when you protested, pressing your head against his chest, running his fingers through your hair, and speaking in a soothing tone. Much to your disappointment, your willpower wasn’t as strong as his, and you’d end up curling into him for comfort and falling asleep there.

Sylus had shown you his dragon form, something he got once he took back the part of his soul that was in Miss Hunter. He could choose to shift into this form whenever he pleases rather than having them be a permanent part of his appearance.

Hard black scales that looked like a volcano covered his already nearly indestructible body. A tail, not unlike a scorpion’s, curled behind him. Horns with a twisting design similar to vines sat on the sides of his head. Velvety black wings, ones that made you think of a bat, were bunched up behind his back, resting from his shoulder blades.

In that moment, you forgot what had happened and stared at him in awe. You traced your fingers lightly over each new feature, marveling at the texture. You chose to ignore the shivers that seemed to inflict Sylus as you did so, making sure to be as light as possible.

“In my last life,” he has said in a low tone, “I considered these features a curse. Something that made me a monster. Powerful, yes, but undesirable. I tried to hide them, shaving down my horns and-” he paused, then smirked. “Then again, you know that already.”

“But now,” he continued, “I know better. I’ve learned what a true curse is, and this is not a curse.” He stretched his wings open, the wingspan taking up the entire length of the room. “This is power.”

Normally you would have agreed with him, or if you were feeling bold, made a slight teasing comment. But his words served to remind you of what he did to gain that power and you fell silent again, dropping your eyes to the floor. You remembered a soft sigh of what you believed was disappointment. Then the conversation shifted, Sylus taking up a new topic that you didn’t respond to.

That’s how things were for a while. Overall normal while you tried to figure out how to navigate this situation.

But with you coming a new element in this game, the winds of change were not far behind.

You had noticed the signs. Everyone seemed busy with something. Luke and Kieran were out more, you hardly saw Mephisto anymore, and Sylus seemed to either be out, on calls, or on his computer. You would have welcomed the space from him, but you couldn’t ignore the slowly growing sense of dread.

After almost a week of this activity, Sylus called you into his office. He was normally fine talking with you whenever, so this sent your body on high alert.

Sylus motioned you to come around his desk and look at his computer. Too worried to question, you complied. There were three windows open on the screen. As you watched them, your stomach dropped.

One was footage of Xavier in his Lumiere outfit traversing around the N109 Zone. Another was Rafayel in his assassin costume sneaking into an apartment complex - likely Miss Hunter’s. The final one showed a report written to the Farspace Fleet on the dangers Onychinus posed and the need for action against it, signed by Colonel Caleb.

“It would seem your prediction was correct,” Sylus spoke smoothly. “Miss Hunter’s admirers are closing in on me.”

You turned to him, core filled with fear. For him? For them? You weren’t sure. “What are you going to do?”

He gave you an amused look. “Well, I’m certainly not going to just let them have their way.” He sobered up a bit. “But I’m going to need your help.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “…What?”

“You’ve shared with me their pasts with Miss Hunter,” Sylus explained, “but not much about their powers, what they can do. I’ll need that information if I’m going to win.”

“Sylus, I-” a lump formed in your throat, “I can’t do that. I can’t- I can hardly stand being the indirect cause of MC’s death! If I tell you that, then I…”

I’ll be the reason they’re dead. You couldn’t get the words out, but they hung in the air regardless.

Sylus seemed to consider your words. Then he placed a hand on your cheek and guided your face to look at him. “Darling,” he murmured softly in a tone that spoke only of love. “I know how hard this has been for you, and I know I’m asking a lot now. I have great confidence in my abilities, but I don’t want there being a sliver of a chance for them. They’re not going to be satisfied handing me over to the authorities. You know what they’re here for.”

Yes, you did. You weren’t a naive idiot. They were coming to kill Sylus…

You wished that you could say you came from a place of logic. You had been miraculously transported into this world, meaning you had no history, no records, nothing someone your age should have. You’d have no way of getting a job and heaven forbid Ever turn their attention towards you. And that was only if you managed to get out of the N109 Zone without Sylus’ protection. You needed him here. You’d always known that, which is why you never tried running before.

But that wasn’t what came to mind at that moment. The thought that ran through your mind was ‘I can’t lose him…’ As much as you hated to admit it, you still loved Sylus and you didn’t want him to die, even if he might deserve it.

You could feel tears rising again at your choice. You hated how much you had cried lately. “…You have to promise me,” you finally said in a shaky voice. “Promise me that… that you won’t kill them unless you absolutely have to. I can’t- I can’t live with blood on my hands. Not like you can…”

Sylus’ eyes flickered with pain. Why? From your pain? From being asked to make an unkeepable promise? He slowly swiped his thumb under your eye, catching an unshed tear.

“I’ll do my best,” he finally said. “I hate to cause you pain, my love-”

You cut him off. “Promise me.” You couldn’t let him have any leeway, no loopholes to exploit. You needed him to give you his word.

He paused, then sighed. “Of course. I promise, darling. I won’t kill them unless I have to.”

It took a moment, but you finally started talking.

You told him about Xavier’s swordsmanship skills, the abilities of his Light Evol, and his upcoming deadline.

You told him about Rafayel’s Lemurian powers, the strength of his Fire Evol, and his background as an assassin.

You told him about Caleb’s mechanical arm, the potential of his Gravity Evol, and the toring chip Ever put in him.

Your knowledge wasn’t perfect. It may not even be enough.

But you gave it all to him. Because in the end, you couldn’t betray the one you loved the most.

You were slightly out of breath when you finished, the weight of what you had done slowly pressing down on you.

Sylus gently pulls you into an embrace and plants a kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you, my treasure,” he cooed. “You’re such an amazing person… you’re so strong, doing something that hurts you to protect me…”

Funny… you never felt weaker.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x non mc reader #yandere sylus #sylus lads #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus

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warnersister · 1 year ago

Text

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

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enhaflixer · 2 months ago

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psh - king of tears. TEASER

Chaebol Husband!Sunghoon | Queen of Tears AU

Teaser #2 FULL FIC OUT NOW! HEREEE

📌 summary: your marriage to park sunghoon was supposed to be a fairytale—until it wasn’t.

now it’s cold stares across the dinner table, separate bedrooms in a mansion too big for the both of you, and divorce papers waiting to be signed.

you were ready to walk away. he let you.

so why does he look at you like he’s the one who lost everything?

my fake marriage! Heeseung fic teaser

word count: maybeee around 15-20K

release date: 23rd Feb

⚠️ content warnings (explicit, minors dni!): a marriage falling apart but neither of you can let go, divorce papers as a weapon but neither of you sign them first, staring at an empty side of the bed and pretending it doesn’t hurt, watching him struggle alone but being too proud to help, "we’re not together anymore." // "then why do you still wear your ring?", high society pressure, business marriages, and pretending everything is fine when it’s not, fighting in the rain because what’s a rich people angst fic without that?, angst-heavy sex (sex while crying, sex while angry, sex while pretending it doesn’t mean anything) "we’re supposed to be over, so why are you still fucking me like you love me?" breathless, desperate sunghoon (bc when he breaks, he breaks) sunghoon is sick, weak, exhausted—but still strong enough to pin you down "i don’t love you anymore." // "then stop moaning my name.", luxury penthouse sex but it’s tragic, a hand around your throat but it’s not just about control—it’s about possession, he fucks you like he’s trying to remind you who you belong to, aftercare that isn’t really aftercare bc he still won’t say he loves you,

The first thing you see when you step into the house is Park Sunghoon, sitting on the couch in the dim light of the living room.

The divorce papers sit between you on the glass coffee table—untouched.

"You haven’t signed them." Your voice is steady. Controlled. Nothing like how you feel inside.

Sunghoon takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his expression unreadable as he sets the glass down with a soft clink.

"No," he says simply.

You exhale sharply. "Sunghoon—"

"Say it." His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the room like a blade.

You blink. "Say what?"

His gaze lifts to yours—steady, unreadable, but not cold. Not now.

"Say you don’t love me anymore."

Your breath catches.

It’s supposed to be easy. The marriage is over. You’re walking away.

But the way he’s looking at you now? The way his fingers ghost over the edge of the divorce papers but never actually touch them?

You realize, with a sinking weight in your chest, that if you say it—if you lie—

He might actually let you go.

The air between you is thick, suffocating. You should leave. You should turn around, walk up the marble staircase, and lock the door to your separate bedroom like you always do.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step forward.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicker with something dark, something unreadable, as you stop in front of him. His cologne lingers in the air—subtle but intoxicating, a scent that’s too familiar, too much like home.

"You don’t get to do this," you murmur.

His gaze flickers. "Do what?"

You glare at him, your pulse hammering. "Pretend to care when you never did."

Something snaps. Fast. Brutal.

The next thing you know, you’re on the couch, pinned beneath him, Sunghoon’s hand wrapped around your throat.

Your pulse stutters beneath his fingers—not tight enough to hurt, but just enough to hold you there, just enough to remind you who he is.

"You think I never cared?" His voice is low, rough. Dangerous.

Your heart stumbles.

His other hand slides up your thigh, barely touching, but enough to make you burn.

"You think I don’t want you?" Sunghoon exhales sharply, his jaw clenched. His fingers flex around your throat, like he’s testing you, waiting for you to push him away.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lift your chin, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"I think you don’t know how to want me without ruining me," you whisper.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

For a second, just a second, he looks wrecked.

Then his grip tightens—just enough.

Your breath catches.

His lips brush against your ear, voice a low warning.

"Tell me to stop."

You should.

"You won't, will you?"

You don’t.

His lips crash into yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s everything he’s held back for months—all the anger, the heartbreak, the longing.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, as he kisses you like he’s drowning, like you’re the only thing keeping him afloat.

You hate him. You hate him.

But the way you arch into him, the way you tug at his shirt, the way you let his hands roam your body—

You don’t stop him.

Not when he drags you into his lap. Not when he whispers your name like it’s the only thing he knows. Not when his fingers slip under your dress, ghosting over your bare skin—teasing, testing, waiting for you to push him away.

But you don’t.

Instead, you breathe against his lips, a whisper, a confession—"I hate you."

Sunghoon lets out a breathless, bitter laugh.

"Liar."

TAGLIST: Closed!

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voxslays · 7 months ago

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The night I found you.

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, after death, Alastor finds you (his wifey) again, but at what cost?

Warnings: Smut, Dub-Con, Tentacles, AFAB! Reader, Alastor being a jerk.

A/N: Today has been stressful. I just got locked out of the google account I used for this tumblr account—yet somehow managed to stay signed in. Anyways, if I one day dissapear I probably got locked out again. Anyways, this is a part two of this fic. Hope you enjoy!

Years later, in the infernal depths of Hell, a twisted version of Alastor now known as the Radio Demon hunts from the shadows. His eyes, once filled with warmth and love, now gleam with malice and cruel amusement. But he had been missing for seven years. You knew Alastor would come looking for you eventually, but it had been almost ninety years since your deaths. Why hadn’t he come sooner? You assumed he didn't care. How wrong you were…

You were taking a relaxed stroll on the sidewalk, minding your own business, until you heard a familiar voice. A voice you knew all too well; Alastor. He had found you. You turn around just in time to see Alastors wicked grin, his voice a seductive purr over the static of his radio. “Well, well...If it isn't my darling little doe, finally come to join me in the eternal flames.” He chuckles darkly. “I've missed you, my sweet.” He slowly steps closer.

He looks different. He still has the same tall, slender frame. But now, his skin is a light, grayish-tan, and he has a wide, toothy grin filled with sharp yellow teeth. He sports small, curved antlers reminiscent of those on a deer, which contribute to his imposing presence, and his eyes—which used to be a beautiful chocolate brown color—are now a bright, glowing red.

“Alastor…?” You say his name as if it's a question. Alastor tilts his head slightly, his red eyes narrowing as he gazes at you. "Oh, ma chéri...It's been so long. And look at you, just as beautiful as the day I... " He trails off, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, you know." He steps closer, the air around him crackling with static. "Did you like it, Y/N? Did you like how it felt? The sting of the blade?" He chuckles darkly. "I still remember the way you screamed... “ He takes another step closer. “Stop.” You say firmly, almost at your breaking point. “But I've barely begun, my darling.”

He reaches out and gently caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch is ice-cold, and his skin feels like rough, parched leather. "And now, we can be together forever." You smack his hand away. “Don't touch me.” Alastor’s grin widens menacingly, baring his sharp teeth. "Feisty, just like old times." He circles you like a predator, his voice a low purr. "You can't run from me now, my dear. We're trapped here together, for all eternity..."

“Our marriage ended the moment you decided to murder me.” You snap at him. Alastor stops circling and stands in front of you, his red eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. "Our marriage ended the moment I realized you were a weakness, a liability," he corrects, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re truly sick.” You spit. Alastor lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Sick? Yes. In love? Still. Eternal." He reaches out and grabs your throat, lifting you off your feet. "And now, you'll see what I've become. What I've done."

Alastor squeezes your throat, his grip like a vice, and you can feel your airway closing. He starts to lift you higher, your feet dangling in the air, until you're staring directly into his burning red eyes. "Look at me, Y/N." His grip tightens, his other hand coming up to grip your hair, forcing your head back. "I want you to see the monster I've become, the monster that will never let you go." His voice is a guttural growl, his breath hot against your face.

“I could never love a monster.” You manage to choke out. He drops you unceremoniously to the ground, leaving you gasping. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "Love is a weakness I can no longer afford. But you, my dear Y/N, you're my eternal obsession." You take off the ring and throw it into a nearby drain. He watches as the gold band spins and disappears down into the sewer. Alastor’s expression darkens. "You shouldn't have done that."

He slowly walks over to you, his movements predatory. "That ring was a symbol of our love. Now, it's a symbol of your disrespect." Alastor summons one of his tentacles, which retrieves the ring and places it into his hand. He forces the ring back onto your finger, his tentacle squeezing your hand until the metal bites into your skin. "It stays on your finger, a constant reminder of your love for me, and my ownership over you." He releases your hand, stepping back to admire the ring.

You try to remove the ring, but it won't budge. He chuckles as you try to remove the ring, his magic holding it firmly in place. "My power—among other things—has enchanted the ring to stay on your finger until I decide otherwise. And I have no intention of removing it anytime soon." He reaches out to stroke your cheek. Alastor caresses your cheek, his touch gentle despite the rough texture of his skin. "You're mine, Y/N. In life, in death, and in this endless nothingness between." He leans in closer, inhaling deeply.

"You still wear the same perfume. Lavender and vanilla." This only makes you angrier. “It’s not for you.” You spit at him. "Always so defiant." He pulls you into a tight hug, his tentacles wrapping around you like chains. "I love it when you fight back." Alastor tightens his grip, his muscular arms constricting around your body. "Shhh, just relax." He nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I've missed holding you like this. Your struggles only make it better."

He teleports you to his bed, falling onto it with you still wrapped in his tentacles. He pins your arms above your head, his tail wrapping around your legs to keep them open. "You're so beautiful when you're helpless." Alastor grins wickedly, his eyes flashing with a predatory hunger. "I'm going to savor every moment of having you at my mercy again." His free hand roams your body, squeezing and caressing. "And you'll learn to love it, just like before."

"Remember the good times, Y/N?" He grinds himself against you, his hard length evident through his trousers. "Remember how we used to spend our nights?” He leans in and kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You give into the kiss. He withdraws from the kiss, smiling as he sees the change in your expression. "Good girl." He releases your arms, his tentacles keeping your legs spread wide. "Leave the ring on." He unbuckles his pants, his member springing free.

Alastor settles himself between your thighs, the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance. "Wrap your arms around my neck." He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "And tell me you love me." His tail coils possessively around your legs, his muscles taut with anticipation. You do as he asks, wrapping your arms around him, and whispering an ‘I love you’ into his ear. Satisfied, he pushes forward, sheathing himself inside you in one powerful thrust. "Fuck, I've missed this." He buries his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he starts to move, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm.

"You feel so good..." He hisses, his voice low and feral. His tentacles crawling up your body to hold your arms down again. "You're mine, Y/N. All mine." He increases his pace, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Alastor lifts your hips to give him deeper access. "Say you love me." He growls, his voice hoarse with desire. You cry out.

At the sound of your cry, Alastor loses control. He pounds into you relentlessly, his member throbbing inside you as he reaches his climax. Alastor roars as he releases a torrent of cum deep within your pussy. “Mine." His tentacles squeeze you tightly as he rides out his orgasm, his tail thrashing wildly. His hot seed filling your womb as his tentacles tighten their grip. He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving. Alastor’s tentacles loosen their grip, but still keep you pinned. "You're perfect." He murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. His softening member still inside you, plugging his seed in your pussy.

Alastor slowly pulls out, his cum dripping from your well-used hole. He scoops some up with his fingers and pushes it back inside you. "Keep my seed inside you." Alastor commands, a dark glint in his eye. "I want to make sure it takes." He murmurs. “What?” You ask confused. He grins wickedly, his eyes filled with dark amusement. "I think it's time we start a family, Y/N. A little demonling running around will keep me entertained when you're not around." He crawls back on top of you, his arms wrapping around your waist possessively.

You knew what this meant. This was Alastor’s way of tying you down. Making sure you couldn't escape. You had absolutely no choice in the matter. The only answer Alastor would accept is ‘yes.’

You groaned. “Do I have a choice?” The answer was no. You knew it. Alastor chuckles, his warm breath fanning over your face. "No, you don't. You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure my seed takes root in your womb. Now, be a good girl and get comfortable."

Alastor nuzzles into your neck, his hands wandering over your body possessively. "Because I'm going to keep you pinned down and spend the rest of the day filling you with my seed until you're pregnant, and I want you to be comfortable while I breed you.” You are shocked. “What?” Your emotions are conflicting you. “I want to make sure there's no doubt that you're carrying my child." Alastor responds. You were in for a long night.

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saffusthings · 7 days ago

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second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part thirty-three: in another life

word count: 5.8k

warnings: this chapter contains themes of grief, neglect, and abandonment. reader discretion is advised.

thirty-two | thirty-three | thirty-four

Lando sat at his desk in silence, pen still in hand though the ink had long since dried. The funeral arrangements were half-finished, a list of names and numbers blurring beneath his gaze. His hand hovered over Daniel’s name more than once, but he couldn’t bring himself to write it down again. It was already there in the headline of every regret in his chest.

Daniel Ricciardo, deceased.

His throat burned.

His eyes stared at the paperwork, at the arrangements, at the tasks that had to be done, but his mind was elsewhere. He could barely focus on the numbers, the calls to make, the words to speak.

The office was too quiet. The hum of the city outside felt like a distant echo, unimportant in comparison to the loss that had shredded through his world like a blade.

Lando sat there, still in last night’s shirt, the sleeves rolled up and collar wrinkled. The clock ticked, the pen in his hand trembled over a page even he couldn’t bring himself to sign.

Daniel Ricciardo — Funeral Coordination.

It wasn’t just a line item on a checklist. It was a sentence.

A verdict.

And Lando couldn’t read it without his throat closing.

Daniel was dead, and Lando had been too late.

The papers in front of him blurred at the edges, paragraphs bleeding into one another, unread. Funeral arrangements. Security procedures. Transfer of assets. Unsent messages, unspoken apologies.

The pen hung uselessly in his hand.

He was just trying to work. Work was supposed to be safe, detached, obedient. Work wasn’t supposed to look at him the way he could feel his men look at him now — with eyes full of questions they weren’t brave enough to voice.

How did this happen? How did you let it?

He should have seen it. He should have done something, for fuck’s sake.

Daniel’s name had been printed five times in this document alone. It still didn’t feel real. It felt wrong, as if a name so vibrant, so alive, had no business existing inside an administrative file.

The rest of the house was quiet. Not still—there were voices somewhere deep in the walls, movement in the shadows, but it all felt hushed. Muted, like even the house was grieving. He could hardly blame it.

The Reaper wasn’t a sentimental man. He’d made it this far by pushing feelings down, by compartmentalizing everything, keeping the emotional weight locked away, safe from ever pulling him under. But Lando Norris could feel the light that had dimmed around the mansion, the hollow space where the warmth used to live. It wasn’t just the loss of Daniel. It was everything. Everything was colder now.

Lando had always thought of himself as someone who could carry weight. Who could look death in the face and not flinch. Who could be ruthless enough. But when Daniel’s body dropped, when the blood pooled, and when Max collapsed to his knees screaming like something had torn from his chest—Lando hadn't felt ruthless. He'd felt helpless

He couldn’t bring himself to face Max since.

Like a fucking coward.

Verstappen hadn’t said a word since that night—not one word beyond accepting orders or routine updates. Lando hadn’t looked Max Verstappen in the eye since because if he did, he knew what he’d see: Daniel’s ghost.

The house was quiet too. A stillness had settled across the estate, not just of sound but of spirit — a dimming of something once bright. There was no laughter in the halls, no music or footsteps. Only muted conversations and doors that weren’t closed all the way.

The warmth that had once flickered through the mansion in small, unexpected ways – an unguarded laugh from Logan, the smell of Carlos’s shitty microwave popcorn, the sound of Daniel’s boots scuffing the floorboards as he came in too loud, too late, always grinning – was gone, the very air seemingly hollowed out and echoing.

He buried his face in his hands and sat there for a long while. It wasn’t the kind of grief that bled out in sobs. It was quieter, meaner – like a slow rot behind the ribs.

When Max Fewtrell stepped into his boss’s office, he didn’t knock. He was entering as a friend. Even if Lando may never refer to him by that title, today he entered this office as he had done many times before – as someone who noticed the dark circles under Lando's eyes, the rapid emptying of his decanter.

“You’re not eating,” Max said softly.

Lando didn’t lift his head. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

He still didn’t respond.

There was a pause. Then a chair creaked as Max sat across from him. “You did the best you could.”

But what was the best when your man still bled out on a warehouse floor? When you heard him choke on his own blood over comms and couldn’t get there fast enough?

Lando’s voice was low when it came. “Did I?”

Max didn’t answer that. Just looked at him, tired in the eyes, like he hadn’t slept either. They’d all taken the hit—some closer to the blast than others — but Lando had been at the center. He always was. That was the weight of command, of consequence.

Heavy lies the head that wears the crown.

The service was short.

Just the Reapers’ Circle, and a few of the old boys from the Renault garage who still wore grease under their fingernails – the ones who had known Daniel from the very beginning, back when everything had felt like a dream on the tarmac.

There were no pretend speeches, no too-holy choir, no annoyingly large floral displays.

Daniel would've hated all that.

The lot of them gathered under gray skies, cold wind skimming off the water. No one said much. A few passed a flask around, a few muttered goodbyes.

Max had stayed silent, the usual fire in his eyes dulled by something deeper, more painful. He stood still the whole time, hand resting absently on the back of Penelope’s tiny head where she sat bundled on Kelly’s hip, too young to know what was being buried.

Too young to know what she’d lost.

How the hell was he going to explain to her that Uncle Danny wasn’t coming over to play anymore?

Lando had stayed in the background, giving everyone space, but the ache of it all was still there, the weight of it pressing on his chest like a stone that wouldn’t budge.

He couldn’t be the leader they wanted him to be today.

He didn’t deserve to.

Not after losing one of their own.

It was hours later, back in his room, when Max Verstappen finally got a moment to himself to breathe, nothing more than a hollow exhale. He’d changed out of his dark coat and was sitting in just a t-shirt now, elbows on his knees, the day’s weight still knotted in his shoulders. Kelly had taken Penelope home early—“She doesn’t need to see you this sad,” she’d said gently.

And maybe she was right.

Max didn’t know how to tell a toddler that Uncle Danny wasn’t coming back. That there wouldn’t be another Sunday where he rolled in with doughnuts and those god-awful glitter stickers she loved so much. That the belly-laughs were over now.

He was still staring at the floor when he heard the soft knock.

It isn’t Logan – his steps are quieter. Carlos’ gait is slower, steadier, more heavy-footed. This is someone different, more uncertain, a little–

Before he could place the sound of the footsteps, the door opened and Lando’s voice came through, tentative and low. “Max?”

The Dutchman blinked, surprised.

What was Lando doing here?

Lando never came to their rooms. He summoned people, made them come to him. It wasn't a rule so much as it was a fact, a simple truth of the way this familiar ecosystem of theirs had always functioned.

Max didn’t say anything at first, just blinked at the door like he wasn’t sure if he wanted company or not. He could hear Lando nudge the door open a little wider, just enough for Lando to step in.

“Shouldn’t you be with the others?” Max muttered, his voice hoarse from the tension he was holding in.

“I came to find you,” Lando replied, his voice quieter than usual, like he wasn’t sure if Max even wanted to see him. But it was too late now; he was here.

“What are you—” Max began, but Lando was already moving.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there in that solemn, self-contained way of his, like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake. He hesitated for a moment, and then, almost awkwardly, he handed Max a small box. It was simple, unassuming. Just a plain cardboard box, the kind anyone would put their stuff in when it needed to be kept together.

Max frowned, staring at it for a moment. “What’s this?” he asked, but his voice lacked the usual sharpness it had. Instead, there was a soft kind of confusion there, as if he already knew.

Lando shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I thought you'd want this... Daniel’s things. Some of ‘em. S’not much. Just, like, things from his locker n’ his drawer in my office. He, uh… left things everywhere, really.”

He held out the small box.

Max stared down at the box, at the way Lando was holding it out like it was fragile, like it could break if Max didn’t take it carefully. And for a moment, there was silence. The kind of heavy silence that had followed Daniel’s death, as if the world had paused, unsure of what to do next.

“He would’a wanted you t’have it.”

Max reached for it slowly, like it might shatter in his hands. He opened it on his lap, careful.

Inside were a few photos. There was a cassette tape labeled Take Names, Kick Ass.Max spotted Daniel’s old aviators too, and his lighter with Fuck ‘Em All engraved into the side. And tucked beneath them was a folded note in Daniel’s handwriting, slanted and looping.

Max’s chest tightened.

Lando watched him wince, like the mere act of opening the small slip of paper that once belonged to the friend he’d once sat beside was enough to wind this grown man, like it would physically punch him in the gut.

The paper was soft and flimsy, preserved with each crease still perfectly folded like Daniel had probably kept it in his wallet.

Max dared to open it with shaking hands.

Enjoy the butterflies. Enjoy being naïve. Enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each run and meeting some great people along the way. Bring friends along. Bring family along. Don't assume they'll be a distraction. Don't be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.

Max let out a wet laugh, but none of them commented on the fact that it came out more like a choked sob. But his smile was wide even if his eyes were a bit shiny, his heart warm with fondness for his oldest friend.

He smiled, a bittersweet smile, even though he could feel the burn of tears stinging his eyes. He wouldn’t let them fall. Not in front of Lando. Not like this. He wasn’t going to break.

Then, at the very bottom of the box, Max found something else. Something that made his heart clench.

It was Daniel’s watch. The one he’d always worn, the one that had been a staple of Daniel’s character. The one Daniel wore on every trip, every stupid mission, every late-night planning session where he’d point at the glowing numbers and say, “We’ve got exactly this much time to change the world, boys.”

The one Max had joked about stealing, but Daniel had always laughed off, claiming it was ‘priceless.’ But now, holding it in his hands, it felt... different.

Max closed his fingers around it, staring at it for a long moment before, without a word, he slipped it onto his wrist with shaking hands.

The leather was cracked but familiar, like muscle memory, like time never passed. The fit was perfect, as if it had been made for him all along.

He glanced up at Lando then, wordless, a quiet question in his eyes. Is this okay? Is this... how we carry him now? Am I allowed to carry this much of him?

Lando didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped forward, lifted a hand, rested it on Max’s shoulder with a quiet kind of gravity, offering a reassuring squeeze.

There was a beat, and then, softly, a nod.

Max exhaled.

“Yeah,” Lando muttered, his voice soft. He gave him a sad, almost apologetic smile. “We’ll make sure he’s remembered, Max. Don’t worry.”

Max’s lips quivered, a single tear slipping down his cheek despite his best efforts to hold it back. But it was there —fleeting, soft— and he let it fall, not trying to wipe it away.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice tight.

Lando gave him the best smile he could muster as he turned to leave. He’d only taken a single step in the direction of door, when–

“You kept them,” Lando breathed.

They were photos, taped haphazardly to the wall, overlapping, some curling at the edges from age or wear. They were moments of Max’s life, captured in still moments, frozen on the faded paper.

Before he could even stop and think, Lando’s steps led him closer, his gaze lingering on the photographs, and his chest tightened.

The room was mostly dark, the curtains drawn. But one corner glowed—lit by the soft flicker of a desk lamp and the dull shimmer of taped-up memories.

The photographs covered the wall like old postcards half-forgotten. Some were crooked others curling at the corners from the heat, taped up without symmetry without much care for looks or aesthetic — just need.

A need to remember. A need to not forget.

The first was of a mountaintop in Hungary, all of them windswept and sun-flushed. Next was a polaroid of Daniel in Austin, smiling beneath a dumb brown cowboy hat that made him look like a drunk tourist, grin wide as ever. There was another too, this one of Kelly and Penelope at a carnival, her daughter mid-laugh, cotton candy stuck to her fingers and Penelope’s tiny hands squishing her mother’s cheeks.

Another one caught his eye. This one was of a beach in Miami, Logan half-buried in the sand. They’d only gone because Logan had been homesick and they were young and high off the thrill of new money and so they had decided there was nothing else to do.

Going to the beach had never even been part of the original plan – their private jet had flaked after taking the money, and they’d been stranded without a plan or a care. Then, for those two days, there was just laughter. Just bad margaritas and a half-functioning grill and the sound of the tide rolling in like a promise.

Lando stared at the photo.

He could almost smell the salt in the air. Feel the heat beneath his bare feet. He remembered laughter—

Daniel’s, maybe. Or was it Penelope’s?

He remembered Logan teasing Oscar until he finally cracked a smile.

He remembered the warmth of the sand. Even standing here, he could still smell the sunscreen Carlos had obnoxiously insisted they all wear.

But just barely.

Now, it felt like a story someone else had told him. Something that belonged to another man, another lifetime. One where he still remembered what it meant to feel full.

He stared at the photographs, something burning behind his ribs. Because even now—even now—his men had warmth in them. Even Verstappen, who wore sharpness like armor. Even Oscar, who barely trusted anyone. Even Daniel, who was gone now.

It was all so human—so alive—in a way that Lando couldn’t remember ever feeling. And then there was the plane ride home, their flight being delayed, stranded at the airport after the money was taken. The photos all held stories, all of them steeped in memories, and they didn’t feel distant. They didn’t feel like past lives. They felt like a life that was still going, that could’ve still been going, if only it hadn’t been stolen.

Lando looked at the picture. He remembered that sand.

Or at least… he tried to.

Back when the water had been warm and Max had been happier and Daniel had still been alive.

He stood there, staring, until the ache in his chest pressed sharp against his ribs. He didn’t think Max noticed him until he shifted.

“You put them up,” Lando said, voice rough.

Max didn’t look at him. “I couldn’t throw them away.”

Lando nodded. Something in his throat pulsed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one,” he said quietly, pointing to a photo where Daniel had Penelope on his shoulders, both of them laughing so hard they were blurry.

Max looked at it. “He was the one who taught her to eat ice cream backwards. Cone first, like shotgunning a beer,” the Dutch smiled fondly.

That pulled a breath from Lando — a laugh that felt broken on its way out. “F’course he did.”

They both let themselves breath in the memory of the ocean air again, before silence fell again.

He had to look away before the ache could settle too deep.

He wondered, as he walked the halls of his own empire, if he was the only one incapable of holding warmth. If it had been beaten out of him, starved out of him, cauterized into nothing.

Even his men—Max, Logan, Daniel—had managed to keep some of it. The good bits. The light.

His fingers twitched at his sides. There were no photos like that in his own room. None he could conjure of himself laughing like that, relaxed like that. At best, he remembered watching. Always from the outside.

He stared at Daniel’s face in one of the prints, smile wide and eyes crinkled at the corners. It didn’t seem right. That someone who could make a place feel warmer just by walking into it was gone. That someone who could make even Max love out loud wasn’t coming back.

Lando felt cold.

And for a moment—just a moment—he wondered what might’ve changed if someone like Daniel had been in his life sooner. If someone like that had taught him that gentleness didn’t mean weakness. That he could be safe and soft and still survive.

His mind betrayed him then.

Brought back the image of her—Y/N—with her steady hands and gentle voice. The girl who had patched him up and made him toast. The girl who had given him sanctuary not because she had to, but because she wanted to. The girl who had touched him like he wasn’t just a blade in human form.

He didn’t deserve it. Not any of it.

But god help him—he wanted her smile again.

Wanted to go back to that morning with her, burnt coffee and all, and press his forehead to hers just to feel something other than the static in his veins.

Unwillingly, he thought of her.

Of the girl who’d bandaged his knuckles without flinching. Of the way her hands had been steady even when her voice trembled.

He thought of her hair still damp from a shower, curling against her jaw as she’d made him toast. Of her fingers brushing over his cheek like he was something delicate. Of the way she’d touched him—not out of pity, not out of fear, but with something gentler. Something he didn’t have a name for.

But for the first time, he wondered.

Would Daniel still be alive if he’d been the kind of man who knew how to feel things before they were ripped away?

Would he have believed in warmth?

He wasn’t sure.

He stared at the photographs, something burning behind his ribs. Because even now—even now—his men had warmth in them. Even Max, who wore sharpness like armor. Even Logan, who barely trusted anyone. Even Daniel, who was gone now.

They still had something to lose, something they let themselves hold close.

And Lando?

He wasn’t sure what he had anymore.

Except a girl with edified hands and a tired smile who looked at him like he could be something more. Someone whose touch hadn’t recoiled when she saw the blood. Someone who stitched him back together with trembling fingers and whispered reassurances he didn’t know how to believe.

He wondered, not for the first time, if maybe —maybe— if he’d had someone like her when he was younger, someone steady and kind and unrelenting in their softness, if he might’ve turned out different. If he would’ve known how to love people before learning how to protect them. Or how to protect people without ruining them in the process.

He looked at Daniel’s smile in the photograph again, and then turned away.

“I should’ve been better –quicker, or smarter – somethin’. I should’ve done more.” he whispered, his voice low. It was all he could do to keep it from cracking. “He trusted me.”

Max exhaled sharply, his face softening. “We all trusted you, Lando.”

Lando could feel the air sucked out of him.

Fuck. I let all of them down, didn’t I?

“And we still trust you. Do not be stupid, Lando.”

Lando looked at him with some mixture of confusion and shock. It reminded Max how young he was, how human behind the infallible mask.

“It’s always ‘if, if, if’,” Max sighed, sounding almost defensive. “But Daniel knew.”

“Knew what?”

“He knew why he trusted you, of course. You are family.”

Family.

Lando didn’t know what to do with that word, how to make it mean something that wasn’t fleeting. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel grief properly, to mourn Daniel as he should. But the more he stood there, staring at the photographs, the more he realized he was mourning. Not just Daniel, but the life he could’ve had. The connection he could’ve allowed himself.

He pulled his eyes away from Max’s desk, his gaze lingering on the photos one last time before he turned to leave, voice barely a whisper. “I won’t forget him.”

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

He only smiled.

There’d been a shift in him, small, almost imperceptible.

Like the way summer ends—not in one clear moment, but slowly. A little less light each day. A little more chill in the breeze.

Even she could tell he’d gone quieter.

Not just the exhausted kind of quiet, the I-haven’t-slept-in-a-week kind. No—this was deeper. A marrow-deep silence that clung to him in the pauses between sentences, in the way he’d drift off mid-thought and forget to finish what he was saying. Instead, it was a sort of hollowness beneath the surface, like he was keeping something down just to make it through the day.

He’d told her, one evening when he was sat on her couch, elbows on his knees, looking more like a boy than he ever had. He’d told her, eventually, about Daniel – about how one of his roommates —one of his brothers, really— died in a sudden car crash.

He’d shown her the photos without her asking, scrolling through his phone with a flat kind of reverence. The boys he’d once called his brothers. Smiling in the sunlight, arms slung around each other like the world hadn’t burned yet.

“This one’s Danny,” he said, swiping through his phone until he found the photo. She looked over to see a photo of a group of boys — grinning, chaotic, arms slung around each other like they believed in forever. He pointed them out by name.

“That’s Oscar. This one’s Max,” he’d murmured. “And this idiot—this was Daniel.”

She hadn’t known what to say. She only looked at the grinning man Liam was pointing to on the screen — eyes warm, arms slung around the shoulders of people he clearly loved — and nodded softly.

“Smiled like an idiot, never shut up. Drove everyone mad.”

She leaned closer. Took in the crinkle of laughter lines around Daniel’s eyes, the way his arm was slung over Max’s shoulder and how Liam himself—surprisingly—was actually laughing in the picture.

Not smirking, not just smiling, but actually laughing.

She’d looked at the face, with a grin so wide it reached his eyes, and felt something in her chest twist. A ghost of a man she never met but already mourned because of what he’d left behind in the man she loved.

The glare of the photo still open on his phone screen reflected back in his irises, but she had a feeling that wasn’t what was causing his eyes to glisten.y

The next thing he knew, Lando felt a small weight come to rest on his shoulder. He turned to find her head resting gently against him, her body curling closer as if to help warm his. “I’m so sorry, Li.”

“Yeah.” His voice barely stirred the air. “Me too.”

And since then, he’d been around more. Not that he explained it. He never asked if he could stay longer, or why her floor was comfier than his own bed, or why his jacket kept finding its way over the back of her chair. He just… stayed.

She let him.

She let him talk when he wanted to and go quiet when he didn’t. Let him sit close in silence, or disappear into his phone, or steal the last of her coffee without asking. Let him fill the space however he needed.

She let him sit on her rug and help her fold laundry without saying much. Let him watch whatever nonsense she had playing on the TV. Let him brush past her in the kitchen, casually stealing the snacks she swore she was saving.

She let him be quiet.

Of course, she worried anyway.

But one day, out of nowhere, he looked up from his phone while she was slicing fruit at the counter and asked her, uncharacteristically. “I was thinkin’ of going out. Can you… Will you let me take you somewhere?”

“What?” she asked carefully, not sure if she stood but also too afraid of having him close himself again. He’d already been so quiet today, but even on his worst day, she’d happily

“Just… Come with me?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Now?”

“Now.”

And why would she ever tell him no?

She didn’t ask questions. Y/N just smiled and wiped down her damp hands with a kitchen cloth before she grabbed her coat and followed him out.

They didn’t speak much on the drive.

The streets were quiet, the city slowly exhaling under the weight of dusk. His hand rested on the gear shift. Her hand didn’t reach for it like it sometimes did.

They pulled into a cemetery just outside the city, where the trees grew tall and weeping and the air smelled like rain, even though it hadn’t rained in days.

He didn’t say anything as he led her down a narrow path, past headstones with gold lettering, some freshly cut flowers, others forgotten. When he stopped walking, it was near a pair of small, unremarkable markers.

She glanced at him, unsure. “Whose—”

“My parents,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched. “I… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

His mouth curled slightly. Not into a smile. Not really. “S’alright. They were a bunch of bastards anyway.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “Li, I didn’t know—”

“Don’t,” he cut in gently. Not sharp. Just firm.

“I’m sorry,” she said instead, softer.

He nodded once. Then crouched, like it was instinct, and picked a stray weed off the base of one of the stones. His fingers brushed the stone, just barely. No reverence, no tears.

“It’s been a while since I last came here,” he said after a moment.

Her eyes flicked to his face. His jaw was tight.

“You don’t have to—”

“No,” he muttered. “It’s fine. It’s just…”

He stood again, looked down at the markers like they might talk back if he stared long enough.

“They weren’t, like, bad in the way people think. Just, like… selfish. Greedy. Left me behind when they had the chance to help. Guess they figured I’d die off and save them the trouble.”

She blinked, the ache in her chest blooming.

“But you were just a kid. What happened?”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter anymore.

“Nothing. They just didn’t want me anymore.”

She looked over at him, brows drawn, something tender pooling in her chest.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Nah, s’fine. You should know.” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, gaze fixed on the stone like it owed him something. “They were the kind of people who liked the idea of children more than actual ones. As soon as it got hard, they bailed. Left me to rot in Monte Carlo with nothing but my name.”

Her heart twisted, but she didn’t interrupt.

“Yeah, not your typical orphan sob story, huh?” he muttered, hands in his coat pockets, eyes on the names. “They weren’t good people. They weren’t even bad people trying. Just… the kind that think kids are accessories. Until they get too loud. Or hungry. Or start asking why the electricity’s off.”

She stayed quiet.

“Left me to figure it out myself. an off one night, locked the door behind them. I had to learn how to pick it just to get water.”

His voice was calm. Clinical, but there was a hollowness behind it, like he was reciting a file, not a memory.

“I lived on scraps for years. Slept under a train bridge with a knife in my sock and a backpack I’d kill for. Stole from people who didn’t miss it, and then from people who did.” A pause. “Guess that makes me a bastard, too.”

“You were a kid,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, with a humorless smile. “But even then, I was learnin’ not to need people.”

He glanced at her then. Something sharp in his eyes, something searching. “It’s easier that way, isn’t it? No one to disappoint. No one to lose.”

They stood in silence for a beat.

“They truth s’just that they didn’t want me,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Never did. Simple ‘s that. Gave up the second it got hard. Threw me to the streets when I was still small enough to sleep inside cardboard boxes. So I did. And then I got good at it. Got good at making people fear me. Good at surviving.”

She stepped a little closer.

“I don’t really talk about it,” he added. “Not ‘cause it hurts or anythin’. I just… figured there wasn’t anything to say.”

She watched him, the way he stood so still in the silence, the wind tugging at his jacket.

“You were so brave, Li. But I’m sorry that you even had to be.”

“I thought I was gonna die, that first winter. Some nights, I was ready for it. But then I met some people. Not good ones, but better than what I had.”

He looked at her then, not all the way – just a glance.

“They don’t make it worth it. Losing him. Losing parts of myself. But I wouldn’t change it either.”

She blinked back the sting in her eyes. “You don’t have to explain that to me.”

“I know.” He nudged a toe against the grass. “That’s probably why I brought you.”

There was silence.

“I’ve been thinking about the people I do have,” he continued, quieter now. “The ones who stuck. Max. Oscar. Danny… you.”

Her breath caught.

“And I’ve been wondering,” he said, “if it’s enough. If that’s all life really is—just making sure you have a few people who’d come looking if you went missing.”

She looked at him carefully. “And?”

“And how maybe they don’t make it worth it,” he said, voice flat. “But they make it… less shit.”

“I still think the world’s a shit place,” he said plainly. “And I still think you have to claw for every bit of light you get. But if you asked me if I’d change it… if I’d trade the people I’ve got now for a cleaner start…”

He scoffed once, under his breath, beginning to smile.

“Nah.”

She tilted her head. “Because it made you who you are?”

“No.” He cracked a faint grin. “Because if things had gone different, I might not have ended up at your café that night.”

That startled a smile out of her. “Liam—”

He shrugged, still too cool for his own good. “Don’t make it a thing.”

It was definitely a thing.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, low and clipped. “Feelings. Grave visits. Any of it.”

“I noticed,” she said, with a gentle kind of tease that earned her a rare smirk.

“But…” He hesitated. “You’re the only person I wanted to bring here.”

Her chest ached.

He reached into his coat then, pulled out a small folded piece of paper. No name. No writing. Just something he laid on the base of the grave like it was meant to rot.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Just a list of things they don’t get to take credit for,” he said simply. “Me. The boys. You.”

She looked at him— really looked. Not the man hollowed by loss. Not the kid who had to claw his way to the top. But the man between those things – scarred, hard-edged. But trying – trying to live, to feel.

He noticed her watching and, true to form, scoffed lightly, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Don’t start crying on me or some shit,” he muttered. “You know I’ll trip you if you do.”

She huffed a laugh, soft. “I’m not.”

“Good,” he said, but his voice was gentler now. Like he didn’t quite mean it.

They stood there a while longer after that.

She didn’t say anything, just stood there with him, in the wind and quiet. But then she stepped closer and let her hand gently graze Liam’s, her curled fingers carefully tangling themselves with his.

He didn’t pull away.

When an indeterminate amount of time had passed and the late autumn wind had sufficiently chilled their faces till their noses were tinged matching shades of pink, Lando finally turned back to his girl with fondness hidden in his smile.

“Come on,” he said after a long moment. “There’s a bakery nearby. You can judge their hot chocolate and ruin someone’s day with your opinions. Probably mine.”

She huffed a soft laugh, swatting his jacket before following as he turned away from the graves. “You love my reviews! In fact, I was thinking we should start a vlog. We’ve been to so many cool places, it’d be so fun! A cute little thing, y’know.”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “Just for us.”

a/n: sorry if the scenes are too long. and if there's any errors, please let me know! i juat wanted to get a chapter out atp lol

as always, i'd love to hear what you think!

161 notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 9 months ago

Note

Kinda naughty but DMC men headcanons with a reader who’s pretty shy abt letting out her noises in bed so they bite her on her collar bone or her shoulder blades (not too harsh, not too gentle) so it will startle her, making her let out her sounds?

OK, here we go!

Sparda boys + V x Reader who is shy about noises headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is very loud and rough himself, so you not screaming your head off while being railed is highly suspicious.

-He began to wonder if he wasn't making you feel good enough, or if he was doing something that was upsetting you, but you were too out of breath to say anything.

-It tool him a while, but he came to the conclusion that you were simply shy, so his devious brain came up with an idea.

-He bit down gently on your shoulder blades, which surprised you. The sudden feeling made you moan, and from then on, there was no hiding your lewd noises.

-Dante made sure to employ this tactic every time you were being too quiet for his liking.

■ Vergil ■

-Normally, Vergil relishes in silence, but after seeing you struggling to hold in your moans, he knew he had to do something about it.

-Yes, there was a little part of him that worried whether or not you were actually okay or not, but his devil breeding instincts overshadowed that.

-He reasoned that you were simply nervous--which you were--and chose to bite your shoulder to get those delicious noises out.

-It worked! You were so caught off guard, all those sounds you were trying to suppress just came gushing out like the juices from your pussy.

-Vergil now has another tried-and-true method to make you scream. Good luck.

□ Nero □

-Nero was busy pounding into you while moaning and sighing, his sounds filling the room.

-He noticed you weren't doing the same, and wondered if everything was okay.

-He looked down, saw your flushed face, and realized you were just nervous. You poor thing.

-Naturally, he decided to lean down and place a healthy bite on your shoulder blades, making you jump and whine.

-From then on, you only got louder; Nero's smile widened, and he made a mental note to remember this trick for later.

● V ●

-V noticed that you weren't matching his fluttery whimpers, and wondered if something was wrong.

-He saw you struggling to hide your squeals, and figures you must just be embarrassed.

-He didn't see any reason to be ashamed of one's noises--such sounds were signs that you enjoyed what was being done to you.

-So, he leaned down and gently nibbled on your collarbone, surprising you.

-All those lovely sounds he'd wanted to hear then came pouring out, just as thy should have been.

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acotarxreader · 8 months ago

Text

Swept Away

Cassian x Reader, Rhysand's sister

Synopsis: Cassian is growing desperate to make his feelings about you known but Rhysand is ever protective of his little sister.

Warnings: Silly, Angst, pining, blood, a creep in a bar, poor Azriel wing-manning like nobody's business, protective Cassian, overprotective Rhysand

A/N: A Cassian fic because it has been some time since he's been featured on the blog. I hope you guys enjoy this silly lil guy. Please forgive any mistakes in this, I wrote it while not feeling the best.

-------------------------------------------------

Cassian stood at the edge of one of the Windhaven training rings, his two brothers sparring across the mud. To the untrained eye, they looked as though they were gonna kill one another but Cassian knew this was all just goofing around. He felt his heart vibrate off his ribcage, waiting for Rhysand to tire himself out enough that he wouldn’t chase and mangle him for the question he was going to ask. He counted through his breaths, forcing himself to focus on releasing the stress from his chest. They finally stopped their clashing, neither conceding but both ready for dinner, calling a truce as they bellowed out brotherly laughter.

“Hey Cass, ready for the mixer tonight?” Rhysand wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm, gratefully taking the cup of water offered by Azriel.

“Oh yeah yeah, very excited, have a good session?” he spoke quickly, eager to get the words out of him before he lost his nerve.

“Definitely, I feel on cloud 9 now”

“Good, good, soooo just letting you know-I’m-going-to-ask-YN-out-tonight-after-the-mixer-okay-bye!” Cassian vibrated out before spinning on his heel and moving to bolt away.

“Oh fuck” Azriel whispered as Rhysand caught hold of Cassian's shoulder, turning him back to face him. In hindsight, maybe saying this to Rhysand when he was pumped full of testosterone wasn’t the correct call Cassain thought.

“Sorry Cass, I think I hallucinated, what did you say?” “I’m going to ask YN out”

“No, you’re not” A laugh left Rhysand as he released his shoulder and loosened the belt of blades slung around him.

“Why not?” Azriel inhaled a breath that sounded like “here we go” at Cassian's question.

“She’s my sister, so she’s like your sister, it's like illegal or something” Cassian scoffed a laugh at Rhysand’s half-answer.

“Except the four of us aren’t actually siblings and the sentiment is nice and all but I’m not her brother, I want to ask her out, nothing creepy about it” Rhysand’s turn to laugh at Cassian, shoving him back lightly at the words and leaning down to loosen his training boots.

“Nah Cass, forget it, move on, I forbid it”

“You what?” he bit out in return, Azriel’s eyes darting between the two, this was going to turn into another savage argument, he could see it.

“Right, let's leave it there-” Azriel tried but was almost immediately cut off by Rhysand.

“-Yeah, I forbid it. I don’t want things to get messy”

“They won’t, I think we would be- “-Forget it Cass, enough drama was caused with Mor-” Azriel took a sharp inhale at Rhysand’s low blow, the two males began to square up to one another just as you called from the sidelines.

“Hey! Come on, start getting ready, have a bath before the smell poisons the flowers” you beamed, raising an eyebrow at Azriel at the weird energy. He just shook his head at you not to get involved. Your gaze separated the two males, both storming away to their quarters.

“Fuckers always leave me to tidy up” Azriel signed, picking up the kit the three had used in training.

—---------------------------------------------

The howling Winter wind ripped through the hills of the Illyrian mountains, coursing through Windhaven. You looked out through the living room window of the place you called home in this unforgiving climate.

“YN? Are you okay?” Your brother whispered from the front door as he shook off the biting snow.

“I’m fine Rhys, how was the mixer?”

“Unsurprisingly violent-” He laughed, a small smile growing on your face at the sound “-Are you sure you’re okay? You look as though you are going to run away” Rhysand laughed again to cover his rising worry.

“Nothing to concern yourself with Rhys, I’m going to just go read in my room” You tried your best to beam back in your usual way to him, rising from the window seat and wandering to your room down the hall. Rhysand questioned whether or not he should follow you, deciding to return to bed and inquire further in the morning.

You stared up at the ceiling, the clock yearning to strike midnight as you sighed. You quietly strapped on your shoes and sheathed yourself in your thickest jacket. You ever so gently lifted the sash window of your ground-level room and slipped out into the night, knowing your brother and mother would go feral with the knowledge of you going into the Illyrian camp unattended at night, despite your own strength.

You moved through the shadows of the grey mountain stone buildings, dipping out of the sight of passing party-worn Illyrians until you found yourself wandering down the disused service lane heading in the direction of the closest village. The chill sent shapes of cold down your spine as you fought the feeling of watching wild eyes from the deep thick woods the lane cut through. Your wings clung tight to your back trying to draw any ounce of warmth possible. You stopped and stretched before launching into your routine jogging trailing along the outskirts of the busy village, a relaxed breath releasing the stress.

Swirled in your own deep thoughts, the sudden weight thrown into your side caught you entirely off guard as you instinctively screamed. A hand wrapped tightly around your jaw preventing further alarm from being raised in your desperate shouts.

The wooded path grew thicker and thicker the further you were hauled into the woods, worst-case scenarios dancing across your mind. The movement suddenly stopped as you felt the solid thud of the body of a tree meeting your back, you forced your eyes open to meet your perpetrator.

“Boo”

“GODS! YOU FUCKING JERK CASSIAN!” You pushed Cassian backwards and almost off his feet while lashing him with your hands into his shoulder blades while he hunched over howling laughing.

“Your face!” he managed between laughs, half choking.

“Don’t do that to me! I thought it was one of the trainee warriors trying to earn his stripes!”

“Don't even joke about that YN, I’d kill them where they stood” his suddenly serious tone cut through you before you smiled at him. Cassian seemingly remembered the fright he gave you, returning to his laughter as you both strolled back towards the path.

“I’ll walk you back YN, protect you from-”

“-From psychopaths who might sweep me away into the woods?!” you cut across him, now both laughing into the freezing night.

“Why are you out so late anyway? Your mother and Rhys would be very unhappy with you”

“I could say the same to you” You raised an eyebrow to the warrior.

“I had business, I care not to go further into it with a Lady” he faux bowed towards you, gaining an eye-roll from you.

“Seriously YNN, what’s with the twilight running?”

“Nothing really”

“Tell me or I’ll start singing” You gave a sceptical look towards your dear friend before he took a deep inhale and belted half a note of pure torture, your hand covering his mouth at the release of the crow song.

“Okay okay!” You laughed, pulling back your hand “-I was actually… I was actually thinking of going home to Velaris” You admitted, ending the momentary comfortable silence that bounced off the ancient trees. Cassian pursed his lips in thought, trying his best to not show all his cards, a futile attempt.

“This is why we can’t be together YNN, so hung up on the glitz and glamour of city life, can't appreciate the wild”

“I’m pretty sure the reason we can't be together is that I don’t like you” Cassain put his hand to his chest feigning hurt, you scoffed at your long-time friend before continuing along the path.

“No more nightly running alone YN, seriously dangerous especially for precious cargo like a High Lord's daughter, someone might take you as their chance to prove themselves and then I’ll have to commit murder and I don’t like my leathers to get messy” he ran a hand through his hair as you fought the urge to shove him again.

“Aw you think I’m precious” you sarcastically shot back

“The most precious thing we have in this dump” his sincere tone ringing through you.

“We'll leave here someday Cass, get on with our real lives”

“We?”

“Well yeah I'm going to need someone to carry my bags” you smirk and he nudges you across the snowy path.

“Can't leave my partner in crime behind me now can I?” His genuine smile of gratitude made you feel warm. He always did. No one could quite understand him like you. The subtle glow of the training camp in the far distance came into view and you sighed at the sight.

“Come on Cass, come get a drink in the village, I don’t want to head back just yet” he nodded to your great idea as you looped your arm through his for warmth and sauntered back towards the village.

—----------------------

The village bar was heaving with Fae, all deeply relying on the crutch of alcohol to soothe their woes. You attempted to play snooker with Cassian, well beyond the scope of your ability. After playing and losing a few rounds with him, you sat at the bar away from his ridicule, allowing him to play more challenging opponents.

You sat cross-legged on the bar stool absent-mindedly tracing circles along the rim of your glass of caramel colour liquor. A rough hand found its way to your thigh, snapping your attention to the wall-like Fae it belonged to.

“He-y it's the Night’s se-xy daughteeer, hey baaaby” The slur of words matched the smothering stench of centuries of whiskey leaving his wrinkled mouth.

“Um Hi” You pushed his hand down roughly before it returned just as quickly and much higher, now squeezing your thigh making you tense. The much older Fae came closer to your face, leaning and whispering drunken inappropriate schemes in your ear. You scoffed in utter disgust, shoving him completely back from you.

“Hey Prin-cess, you don’t fucking do that! Come here!” He almost spat at you, roughly catching you by the waist and pulling you off the stool. His fingers buried into your skin and you found it difficult to slip out of his vice-grip-like hands.

A hand laid flat on his shoulder from behind as he grunted to being interrupted. He turned to meet Cassian fist straight into his glass jaw sending him cold to the floor. You found yourself gasping, no one else reacting in the busy bar used to Illyrian antics.

“Cassian!”

“Come on, we’re going” he caught your wrist and pulled you from the bar, stepping over the creep's body as you were pulled along. You hurriedly slipped on your jacket, the freezing breeze of the night burning your skin as you were pulled into the baltic night.

“Cass, slow down, you're going to take my arm out of the socket” you groaned at the slight pain he was causing you as you found it difficult to keep up with his rapid pace back down the service lane.

“Such a fucking asshole”

“I was handling it Cass!”

“Oh yeah YN, really looked like that” you huffed at his sarcasm, anger growing in both of you the further you got from the bar.

“Get off my case fucking hell”

“He could have run off with you”

“So?! What does it even matter to you?! Seriously Cass, slow down, you're not racing a Naga!”

“It does matter to me! I don’t want some ancient creep all over you” Cassian continued his marching in front of you, your wrist firmly caught.

“You're the same when any male talks to me! You’re worse than Rhys!” You were sick of it, sick of being treated like some wounded bird they needed to protect, the thought caused the anger to grow in Cassian.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANY MALE TALKING TO YOU LIKE THAT!”

“WHY!? WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER YOU!” Cassian suddenly dug his heels into the snow causing you to crash into the back of him giving you a bit of a fright. Cassian span around, releasing your wrist in exchange for your hips, your hands instinctively draping across his shoulders as he pulls you forward in the falling snow to meet your lips hungrily. The cold was leached from your bodies as you basked in the glow of one another.

“Cass you just kissed me”

“I just kissed you” You both had shock painting your faces before locking eyes and reconnecting hungrily again.

“If anyone touches you like that again I’ll kill them” You nodded quickly to his protective stern words, kissing him deeply again.

“Ahem” Azriel’s voice separated you both as he stood with hands on his hips glaring at the two of you, clearly having just been out for his own run along the service lane.

“Az-” He only raised a gloved hand to you.

“I don’t want to know any of the goings on between you two, ever, it will make me an accessory to a murder when Rhysand finds out” You both nodded slowly in reply before Azriel dragged a hand down his face.

“Now, the three of us are going to walk home and the three of us will never speak about this again” Azriel continued, gesturing with his arm for you to walk ahead. You looked from Cassian to the Shadowsinger who only raised an eyebrow, you sighed before following his direction and walking ahead of the two.

“You’re a dead man Cass” Azriel whispered once you were out of earshot.

“I know” “What is with you and their family, next thing you’ll be sleeping with Rhysand’s mother” “How do you know that didn’t already happen” Cassian was fighting for his life to bring back an air of silliness to the night and Azriel happily obliged, shoving his smirking brother across the path.

“This is different Az” he rejoined his side quickly.

“I know, it’s always been different between you two, doesn’t mean your funeral will be any less of a sure thing” The Shadowsinger smirked.

—-----------------------

The next couple of weeks became like a full-time job for Azriel and he wasn’t sure exactly when he had interviewed for the job. He spent a large amount of his free time running interference for you and Cassian, distracting Rhysand to allow you both to steal away moments together. It was beginning to exhaust him not to mention sicken him that he spent so much time focusing on Cassian’s love life that he forgot his own.

The four of you sat around the corner table of the very tavern that three months previously you had been pursued. Azriel sat next to Rhysand as if by chance but very much planned so that you and Cassian may sit next to each other.

“So anyways we’ve been sleeping together for some time now but I think it’s time to cut her loose-” Rhysand beamed at the telling of his conquests while you fought the urge to roll your eyes at your brother's hypocrisy “-What about you Cass? Any lovely ladies on the go?” Rhysand innocently questioned before taking a deep drink.

“Ehh yeah I suppose you could say that” Your chin sank to your chest, attempting to bury the wide grin on your face.

“Well go on, tell us about her” Rhysand pried, Azriel’s eyes trying to find anywhere else to look at other than the red on Cassian’s cheeks” “I don’t think-” “-Oh come on Cass, since when have you been coy about your conquests?”

“Cauldron boil me” Azriel whispered under his breath, your foot sharply meeting his shin.

“I just think I should keep that private” Cassian spoke over Azriels audible pain. “From me? I heard you tell Azriel that you never wanted to leave the bed with this mystery female, so how come I’m not privy to the information?” You took a deep swig at your brother's playful prying, wishing the ground to swallow you up.

“I just don’t think you’d want to hear about-” “-I clearly do, tell me, tell me about this so-called best sex you’ve ever had, how you make her c-” “-For all that is good and Gods given Rhysand please do not finish that sentence!” Azriel cut across quickly as you inhaled your drink, choking slightly. Cassian rapidly tapped your back as Azriel and Rhysand began to bicker.

“Are you okay?” Cassian whispered to you, searching your greying face for colour as it flushed back to your cheeks. He took your hand softly under the table, his thumb sending soothing circles across your skin. You looked up to Cassian with your glassy eyes, a small smile growing on your face at the look of adoration you received. The two of you looked quickly then to the silence that leaked from the other side of the table. Rhysand looked between the two of you, his own face now looking like he had been the one starved of air. Azriel covered his eyes with a hand, trying to think of any way to come back from this and what was about to happen. The table fell to an almost unnerving silence as Rhysand processed in real time before an equally unnerving laugh left him.

“Oh no no no no” he shook his head while laughing, you glancing worriedly to Cassian at your brother's seemingly newfound deliria.

“Rhysand…” You tried but your brother just kept shaking his head while laughing.

“Oh no no no no” His laugh only got louder, Azriel daring to look at the Son of Night from behind his hand.

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start” Azriel whispered across the table to Cassian who looked bewildered at the reaction. Rhysand rolled up his sleeves, his laughing continuing as he took a deep drink from his tall glass.

“Maybe 10 seconds” Azriel added, Cassian needing no further invitation to bolt away. He made it as far as the edge of the village before Rhysand came in hot from behind him, you and Azriel trailing desperately.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Rhysand bellowed, tackling Cassian to the ground as they rolled in the slush of the last snow of Winter.

“Rhys stop!” You went to separate them, Azriel pulling you back to his side.

“Just, just leave them go YNN” he sighed, knowing this was years in the making. The two warriors rolled, Rhysand attempting to deliver blows that Cassian blocked.

“Rhys-I’m-sorry!” Cassian managed through dodges.

“My sister!”

“Yes! Your sister! But my love! I love her!” Cassian rasped out, Rhysand’s hand finding his brother's throat as he gained the upper hand from above him. Rhysand released an ounce of pressure he had on the Illyrian before shooting a glance at you, a clear look of horror on your face. Rhysand allowed all the air from his lungs go before standing again, Cassian attempted to stand, only to meet the floor again with a shove from the future High Lord. He stayed down, thinking that was the best port of call.

“YN, really?” “Really” You found your own confidence, striding over the Cassian to meet his side on your knees.

“How long?”

“Three…almost four months” You admitted to your brother, pulling bits of moss from Cassian’s hair.

“Four months?! And no one had any idea?” Azriel averted his eyes at Rhysand’s questioning.

“We just wanted to see if it was serious before stressing you out Rhys” Cassain ran a sleeve over his bloodied lip.

“And this is-this is serious? You’re not just fucking around Cassian because I swear to the Gods I will-” “-This isn’t fucking around Rhys, I love her” Cassian interrupted Rhysand’s worry. He wandered in a small circle, arms behind his back as he tilted his chin to the stars once again, taking a deep breath of the changing seasonal air.

“Okay” Rhysand finally rocked his head back down to look at the two of you.

“Just to say Rhys, I don’t care if you are okay or not with this, I love Cassian too and I don’t care if you are okay with it-” “-YN” Cassian dragged out your name like a whining child who was trying to stop the class pet from reminding the teacher about a test.

“But, thank you” You kissed the top of Cassian’s head, his lip stitching together from the blowout.

“Oh Gods don’t do that in front of me!” Rhysand looked to the sky, the two of you laughing up at him.

“Oh please Rhys, that’s nothing, these two would make you sick” Azriel laughed before the smile completely fell from his face.

“You knew?” Rhysand glared towards the Shadowsinger.

“I ehh-” “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start my friend” Cassian laughed up from the slush-turned mud. Azriel gave a panicked laugh before meeting Rhysand’s serious eyes.

“He’s the one doing your sister!” “Az! Traitor” You chuckled, Rhysand still not removing his eyes from Azriel until he shot off into the woods, Rhysand hot on his heels. You helped Cassian to stand again before walking hand in hand in the direction of home, happy to have that weight off your chests and happier to hold one another's weight in your arms.

--------------------------------------------

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