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[bullprint]

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[neferaskingdom]

♡ Mini-Charles | CL16

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: He’s used to fans, but something about this tiny one in Suzuka hits different, and Charles can’t stop smiling. Mini-Charles 2026 pretty-please? you'd make such an amazing maman mon amour-

A/N: Chat I fear I cooked with this one. Mini-Charles literally made my ovaries almost burst, so I present thee with this little blurb.

CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

One of the best parts about the Japanese Grand Prix was always the fan stage. Rain or shine, Suzuka fans showed up in full force, enthusiastic, respectful, and often wildly creative. Charles had seen all kinds of things over the years—handmade banners, fans in full Ferrari suits, even one guy who brought a cardboard cutout of him as a saint to every single event. But this time, something, or rather someone, really stole the show.

It started when Charles was doing the fan Q&A alongside Lewis. He was mid-sentence, answering one fan’s question, when he noticed a flash of red near the front row. Not the usual Ferrari cap or flag, but something... smaller.

A child, maybe five or six years old, standing perfectly still with his hands on his hips in what could only be described as an exact replica of Charles’ fireproofs. Down to the logos. Even the custom detailing on the sleeves. He was wearing a mini version of Charles’ helmet too—full visor, the matte red and white colors perfectly matched. And the stance. God, he was standing exactly like Charles does when he’s focused in the garage.

Next to him were two girls around the same age. One was decked out in Max’s navy fireproofs and helmet, and the other had gone all out in papaya orange, even painting freckles on her cheeks like Lando. But it was the little Charles clone that made him pause mid-answer.

He leaned slightly toward Lewis, nodding subtly toward the kid.

"You seeing this?"

Lewis squinted. Then grinned. "Mini-you? Yeah. That kid's got your whole aura going on."

Charles laughed softly, eyes still glued to the boy. "He stands like me. That's terrifying."

"He's probably got the hand gestures down too."

Charles kept glancing at him throughout the session. Every time he looked, mini-Charles was looking back up at him, visor slightly tilted, tiny hands on his hips like he was part of the team.

It didn’t take long before a Ferrari PR staffer approached the boy’s guardian and arranged for them to come into the garage. Word traveled fast, and before Charles had even finished his media rounds, he heard, "Little Leclerc's in the garage!"

The name stuck immediately.

She found Charles in the Ferrari hospitality area a few minutes later, practically bouncing as he pulled her by the hand.

"You need to come see this kid. I swear to God, it’s like someone shrunk me."

She raised an eyebrow. "They cloned you in Japan?"

“I just wanna see him up close,” he said, glancing back at her with the giddiest grin. “He had the little visor, chérie. The visor! And the gloves. Like mine! And he even did the pose. Did you see that?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I saw. You’ve been smiling like an idiot ever since.”

He didn’t even deny it. “I love him. He’s my favorite person here.”

By the time they reached the garage, mini-Charles was standing between two engineers, who were enthusiastically showing him how the pit boards worked. His fireproofs were real. High-quality replicas down to the seams, probably custom-made. Even his boots had the little CL16 logo printed on them. He was soaking it all in with this quiet, intense focus that looked way too familiar.

Charles crouched down and called softly, "Hey, champion."

The boy turned instantly, visor flipped up to reveal a round face and wide brown eyes. He didn’t speak—just lit up with a shy grin and ran the last few steps into Charles’ waiting arms.

Charles caught him effortlessly and stood, the kid now perched on his hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. His tiny gloves clutched the front of Charles’ polo, and the smile Charles gave him was soft, full of awe.

"You see this?" he asked her quietly. "I mean, come on. Look at the gloves. The detail. He’s even got the sponsor patches."

She stepped closer, smiling as she took in the sight of the boy.

"He’s better dressed than you."

Charles crouched beside him. “Tu es magnifique. You look better in my suit than I do.”

The boy just stared up at him in awe. “You’re my favorite driver.”

Charles clutched his chest, looking like he was about to melt into a puddle any second. “Mon coeur. I’m done for. You are adorable.”

They took photos—a lot of them. With the engineers, the mechanics, even Fred Vasseur came over to see what all the fuss was about and ended up holding the boy for a photo. The engineers joined in. The boy was passed around the garage like a VIP guest, posing with everyone, giving high-fives, and pretending to check tire pressures with an air of serious professionalism.

She stood nearby, arms crossed loosely, watching Charles with a fond smile that she didn’t even try to hide. He was fully enchanted. There was a softness in the way he bent to talk to the boy, the way he smoothed the kid’s hair when it stuck out from the helmet. She hadn’t seen that side of him in a while—not since their last trip to her home when he spent a whole afternoon playing pretend race car with her nephew in the living room.

Then Charles was waving her over, grinning. “Come on, chérie. You have to be in the photo too.”

“I’m not in uniform,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“But you’re part of the team,” he insisted. “We need a proper photo. Mini-Leclerc needs his whole crew.”

The three of them posed together—Charles, her, and the tiny version of him in the middle, clutching the helmet proudly.

"Smile!" someone called. "We need a nice family photo of the Leclercs!"

She froze slightly at the comment, but Charles just grinned, looking between her and the boy with a soft, far-off, dreamy expression. He didn’t correct them. Didn’t even blink.

After the photos, someone jokingly put mini-Charles on the scale, and the number made Charles nearly choke.

"Sixteen point sixteen kilos? Are you kidding me? That’s... that’s my number! Twice!"

He was laughing, absolutely delighted, holding the boy’s hand as the mechanics lost it behind him.

Later that night, back in the hotel, he was still grinning.

"Did you see how he stood by the car? Like he was about to jump in and drive it. I swear, it was like watching a tiny version of myself."

She sat on the bed, watching as he opened his phone and showed her photos from earlier. "Look at this one. Look how he’s holding my visor like it’s sacred. This kid gets it."

"You were smitten."

"Can you blame me? I mean... that could be our actual little Leclerc one day."

She looked up slowly. "Oh, we’ve moved on from 'mini-me' to actual mini Leclerc now?"

He leaned into her side with a sigh. “He was perfect. Did you see how serious he looked when I let him sit in the simulator? Like a little pro.”

She smiled. “You’re obsessed.”

“I am,” he admitted easily. “I want one.”

She blinked. “A simulator?”

“A Mini-Me. Like… a real one. Ours.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want a kid now?”

He nodded slowly. “I didn’t, like, wake up thinking that. But then I saw him, and—mon dieu—he looked exactly like me. It was so weird. And he had the little gloves and the fireproofs. I swear, he had the same little fold in the elbow. I didn’t know kids could look that cool.”

She laughed. “Charles.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “I already found a onesie online. Look.”

He pulled up his phone and showed her a Ferrari red baby onesie with a tiny number 16 on the back.

“Stop.”

“There’s a mini balaclava too,” he said, completely ignoring her tone. “And look—this one has a hood shaped like a helmet. Isn’t that cute? I mean, come on. This baby looks ready for a race.”

“Charles. You're literally in the middle of a championship fight. You don’t sleep enough as it is. Not to mention you travel all year. When would you even see this baby?”

“‘I’d make time obviously.”

“And babies cry. And don’t sleep. And poop. A lot.”

“I can handle poop.”

She stared. “That’s your strongest argument?”

“No, my strongest argument is that I would make an amazing dad,” he said proudly. “I would be so fun. Like, I’d teach them how to race little go-karts and read them bedtime stories in three languages. And make the best sandwiches for school lunches. And if they wanted to wear their race suit to preschool, I’d let them.”

She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “Max is having a baby,” he added after a pause.

“Oh no. You’re not doing this.”

“Why not? I’m just saying. Max is having a baby.”

“And?”

“So why can’t we?”

“Charles, this isn’t a competition.”

He pouted. “It’s not not a competition.”

“Unbelievable.”

He sighed and slumped against her, his fingers drawing aimless shapes on her arm. “You’d be such a good maman. You’re warm and patient and you already take care of me and Leo. It’d be easy.”

“Charles Leo is a dog. You’re talking about an actual real life baby here!”

“I’m not saying now now,” he said quickly. “Just… soonish. Ish. I’m just planting the idea. Watering the seed. Like a gardener.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can the gardener sleep now?”

He grinned. “Can I fall asleep while showing you just one more video? It’s this baby in a chef outfit trying to flip pancakes and he throws them on the dog.”

She groaned. “Bed. Now. It’s not the right time for this conversation.”

He followed her into bed, still murmuring about Mini-Charles and tiny helmets and kids in the paddock.

As she lay down, he slid in beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "What if I just... keep showing you baby videos until it becomes the right time?"

"That’s not how this works."

"I found one earlier of a baby eating spaghetti for the first time and just losing it. It reminded me of you."

"Charles No."

"Or the one with the baby who keeps saying 'no' to everything? That one’s also very familiar."

"Go to sleep."

“I’d call him Jules,” he whispered against her neck. “If it’s a boy.”

“Go to sleep, Charles.”

He pouted into her shoulder. “Fine. But at least think about it. Just saying, Little Leclerc has a nice ring to it."

She turned off the bedside lamp and rolled back towards him, burying her face in his chest. "Sleep now. Babies later."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and sighed.

"Fine. But just you wait. One day, I’m putting that onesie in my shopping cart."

And she couldn’t help but smile.

Because if today had shown her anything, it was that Charles Leclerc would make a very cute dad. Just... maybe not this season.

“Bonne nuit, future maman.”

“Stop!”

He grinned against her shoulder and didn’t say another word. But she could feel the way his fingers gently traced circles over her stomach, and she didn’t stop him.

Maybe one day. Just not today.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Would you write something for George where his wife and their children prepare something special for his birthday?

A/n: YESSSSS ( i love George )

The home was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. Too quiet. And that alone should have made George suspicious.

But he was still fast asleep, his arm draped lazily over the pillow where you should have been. Instead, you were downstairs, orchestrating what could only be described as organized chaos.

The kitchen smelled of warm cinnamon and chocolate, the air thick with the aroma of freshly baked pastries and a cake that had taken three attempts to get just right—because little hands had kept sneaking tastes of the batter. The twins, Arthur and Leo, had been particularly difficult to wrangle, their excitement too much to contain.

“Mummy, is the cake done yet?” Arthur, the elder twin by exactly four minutes, bounced on his heels, his red hair sticking up wildly.

“Not yet, love,” You answered patiently, smoothing icing over the top. “But you can help me decorate it.”

Leo, the more mischievous of the two, was already dipping a finger into the bowl of icing when his sister, Lily, smacked his hand away.

“Mum said no tasting!” she scolded, her green eyes narrowing at her younger brother.

“I was testing it,” Leo huffed, licking his finger anyway.

From across the room, the youngest, little Nora, sat on the floor, clutching a crayon in her chubby fist, carefully drawing what she insisted was “Daddy’s face” on a large piece of parchment. So far, it looked more like an oddly shaped potato with freckles.

You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time. George was known for being a heavy sleeper, but there was only so long before the smell of food—or the suspicious lack of noise—would wake him up.

“Alright, team,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Positions, everyone! Leo, Arthur, get the balloons! Lily, bring me the presents, and don’t forget the one you made. Nora, sweetheart, are you finished?”

Nora beamed up at you. “All done, Mummy!”

You took one look at the drawing and smiled. It was perfect and you just knew George would love it.

The family scrambled to their places. The kitchen was now a scene of controlled excitement, the cake sitting proudly in the center of the table, presents neatly stacked beside it, and a banner hanging slightly crookedly above—hand-painted with the words: “Happy Birthday, Daddy!” Paint hand prints across the banner.

And just as they took their places, they heard footsteps creaking down the stairs.

“NOW!” Lily shouted.

George barely had time to blink before a barrage of confetti exploded in his face, courtesy of Leo and Arthur, followed by an enthusiastic, ear-splitting chorus of:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DADDY!”

George, eyes still adjusting to the explosion of colors and noise, grinned as he took in the scene before him—you, his beautiful wife standing in the middle of it all, smiling at him with that look of amused exasperation you always wore when dealing with little troublemakers.

“Well, if this isn’t the best way to wake up,” he said, laughing as Nora toddled over and proudly thrust her drawing into his hands.

“’S you, Daddy!” she announced.

George studied the crayon masterpiece, his heart swelling. “Blimey, you got my good side and everything.”

As he knelt down to pull all four of his children into a big, warm hug, you came up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist.

“Happy birthday, love,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

George sighed contentedly, looking around at his family—his home, his world, his greatest gift of all.

“Best birthday ever,” he murmured, gaze softening you let your fingers run through George's hair.

"Just you me and the kids. Fred said he'll watch the shop."

[jayybugg]

dreams come true

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.

Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.

Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.

“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.

“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”

Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”

“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.

“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”

Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.

“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”

He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.

“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”

Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”

You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.

“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”

Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”

You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”

Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.

The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.

To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.

“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.

“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.

It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.

“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”

You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.

With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.

“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”

You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.

“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”

Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”

He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”

“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”

Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.

“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”

He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.

Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”

Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”

Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.

Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”

“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”

“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”

“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.

“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”

Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”

Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”

You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.

“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”

“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.

“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.

“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”

Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”

“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.

“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”

You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.

Today was truly a dream come true.

[vamp0rivm]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 5

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 6

a/n: 😪 banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics

Snow still lays thick upon the soil once you’re gone. Along its boundless surface, specks of silver glisten, basking in the gentle glow of the moon, smothering the town’s bustle.

“You sure?”

The wind is cruel, lashing auburn locks erratically about Ellie’s face, numbed by the frigidity. In spite of the burning cold overtaking her limbs, her grip on the straps of the saddle tightens and her eye contact with Tommy turns ever so slightly hostile,

"Tommy, it’s been less than a day. She can’t be far. You comin’ or not? ‘Cause I’m doing this with or without you.”

He looks back at her wordlessly with a furrow in his brow, piercing through the tense silence laced with the distant bustle of Jackson,

“Alright… Let’s set off quick then.”

“Okay.”

Something compels her to silence, an impulse to keep her lips sealed over restless secrets. Maybe she knows that going after you is illogical, that it was a choice you made on your own. But she can’t bring herself to indulge in those realisations – all she knows is that she has to find you; there is no hesitation. Thankfully, the urgency in her tone was explanation enough for Tommy.

With a rushed onset, they split up to cover more ground, venturing onwards into the overrun territory encompassing Jackson with eyes vigilant, searching for signs of you, but seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours of vacillating between trot and gallop, losing sense of direction and fragments of determination to the exhaustion that mutinies her mind.

Thank god the hoofprints come into view when they do - as if by magic or a blessing, the impressed snow shows itself clear as day, juxtaposing the sea of white bordering it,  darkened by dirt and grime. Ellie perks up with desperate intrigue so she pulls the reins and crouches down beside them, muttering to herself,

“Huh, what do we have here?”

And then her heartbeat quickens in anticipation of relief,

“She's close.”

Verily, she follows, the tracks guiding her further into the dense vegetation with senses working overtime to accommodate the fact that it is winter and hordes are rampant. She fucking prays you didn’t run into one, but the forest is deafeningly silent, seeming to hold its breath tonight.

She’s fast on your track; in this moment, the path is hope, a lifeline steering her along.  Every now and then, a rustle of leaves, or the distant echoes of infected throw her mind into disarray, but she scans the area rapidly, shaky grip tightening on her firearm, before pushing on.

Just under an hour, the prints become faded and scattered, and the apprehension makes her stomach twist before she lifts her head to greet the destination - a desolate clearing.

“Fuck me.”

Dim moonlight hangs over Ellie and Tommy’s exhausted figures. The night has been relentless. The trail resulted in nothing more than wasted time and the discovery of a empty clearing, devoid of any sign of you.

Frustration and fatigue etched on her face and lingering in the air around her, Ellie kicks at a loose stone on the ground like a little kid, the full regret of having set off hurriedly with no real plan or navigation overcoming her. They’ve gotten nowhere.

In a see-through attempt at remaining pragmatic, Tommy pats her shoulder and states with a tone of reassurance, though it’s betrayed by the wearied rasp in his voice,

"We'll figure it out, Ellie. We just need to rest for a bit and rethink our strategy. She couldn't have gotten far."

But Ellie's resolve is fixed and her jaw is set in determination. It’s too late to turn back now, she knows that.

"I can't rest, Tommy. Every minute wasted is another minute she's further."

He sighs heavily with complete sincerity, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Ellie, she’s probably asleep right now, or some shit. And pushing yourself like this won't help anyone."

Their intermingling voices rise, threaded with increasing aggression until the tension has thickened beyond salvaging, and the rift between their convictions seems insurmountable in the darkness of the night.

Finally, unable to find common ground, Ellie announces,

"I'm not waiting. I'm going to keep searching. You wanna go back? Fine."

And, without waiting for a response, she takes off, leaving her horse and Tommy, who mutters quiet cusses into the heavy stillness of the night. She moves with purpose, the flashlight attached to her backpack tearing through the darkness.

She refuses to let the ache in her feet claim her; every step she takes echoes the silent plea for you to be found. Even as the hours wear on, Ellie's determination refuses to wane in spite of the fatigue gnawing at her bones. She can’t let herself think, she can’t let herself dwell, she has to keep searching, even if she can’t tell herself why.

However, the moon, as always, gives surrender to the encroaching dawn. Ellie's flickering hope of finding you dims as her steps grow heavier and her eyes wearier, and the first light of sunrise bleeds into the sky from the horizon.

Eventually, shattered and running on sheer god-like willpower, Ellie stumbles upon a vantage point, and stands over the landscape, large enough to swallow her whole millions of times over, like she’s the last person on Earth, staring into the face of impending destruction.

But it’s just dawn, and the overcast warm glow showers upon her as the realization that she has been searching through the night hits her. The screeching thought of you inevitably having gotten hurt plagues her mind. Deep breath, in and out, she lets the weight of it all settle upon her weakened shoulders, yet there’s still no time for rest.

The search is far from over.

You strain your neck to squint up at the skeletal structure that has born the brutality of the post-apocalyptic world, barely making out the details past the overgrown foliage seeping out of its broken windows and destroyed walls.

You enter with caution and heightened senses, searching for any signs of danger. The creaking floorboards beneath your feet shatter the palpable silence in the damp air.

Shifting through the shadows, your senses remain sharp and attuned to the slightest noise, scanning the objects illuminated by the dim light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the abandoned building. Shadows loom outstretched along the corridors.

In a shadowy corner, a man is crouched over a bag, and you watch him with a racing heart before you emerge, your silhouette a silent spectre against the dilapidated walls.

Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment before you both jump into action instinctively, but you swiftly disarm him. The struggle is brief but intense, and he is overpowered, because, if there’s one thing fear has taught you, it’s that each movement has to be calculated and purposeful.

And when he’s on his knees, trying to plead for mercy, when he’s scraping pathetically at the scruples of humanity left in your soul, you remain resolute - just don’t think. Your grip is firm as you subdue him.

A few blows leave him incapacitated, and you leave it at that because you have never been able to succumb to gratuitous violence. He lets out a muffled groan with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.

Swiftly, you bind is wrists and ankles taut, ensuring he can’t pose a threat before confiscating his meagre supplies and rifling through them. Food, water, anything that could sustain you on the journey ahead, you take, and then you drop his bag my his side and arise.

You turn to leave, but you glance back at the man over your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a solemn expression. You haven’t done this in a while, not since you arrived at Jackson, and your penchant for showing no mercy has been buffed down.

There’s so much you have to beg your mind to steer itself away from, beg it to not to linger on the helplessness in his eyes as he looks back at you, or how you would’ve slit his throat without a doubt when it was just you and Soren.

With the stolen supplies secured, you walk through the entrance. You have to convince yourself of one last thing.

Mercy takes on different forms.

Out into the muted light of dawn, the air is brisk, and the horizon enlightening drags the worry of not making it out of the treacherous night you endured off your shoulders. A new day. A momentary respite washes over you; you’re only a little scathed.

With the first light of dawn illuminating your path,

“Only an hour or two away …”

It is a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it’s enough for someone with your past.

Mounting her horse, the familiar weight of the saddle grounds you as you set off once more into the unknown. The rhythmic, muffled thump of hooves against the snow-blanketed floor, and the shadow of the horse and rider stretched long over the ruins, a lone traveller navigating the remnants of a world.

You ride on, your mind numb to the thought of returning to Soren. Back to the old house, to the doorstep where your heart lies dormant.

Crestfallen, the fruitless landscape stands before Ellie, as if to mock her hunched over figure, bathed in the warm hues of the noontime sun. She has been traversing since the wee hours of the morning after stopping momentarily to map out a journey in her relentless pursuit of you, trying to stay determined, but the urgency that keeps her moving forward is dulled by the incessant pangs of hunger and the desperate struggle to keep her eyes open. Doubt creeps in as the vast emptiness erodes her resolution.

Just as thoughts of turning back infiltrate her sleep-deprived mind, a faint sound carries along a whistling gust of wind, drawing her fading attention. Pained noises, barely audible, leave her instantly alert, and Ellie follows the source of the sound with a subtle limp in her step. Though her senses are sharpened by the urgency of the situation, everything still seems blurrier and muffled.

Guided by the haunting echoes, she carefully weaves her way through the silent surroundings, every step weighted with anticipation, into a derelict building.

She approaches cautiously, entering a room where the sound is amplified and she comes face to face with the source: a man, bound and gagged, his eyes shut as he lies, weakened by his restraints. Without hesitation, Ellie kneels beside him, pistol pressed to his pained temple, her gaze unwavering,

“Who did this to you?" she demands, her voice edged with a fierce determination. His eyes fly open, looking up at her fearfully.

“Shit! Some fuckin’ girl – I don’t know!”

“… When did she leave?”

“Like ten minutes ago! I haven’t got shit, she took everything! I’m begging you, please untie me!”

She stands, contemplating it for a moment, before she kicks him over so that he can contort his body into a sitting position, eliciting a sharp groan. He wasn’t tied up beyond hope of managing to undo the knots, you made sure of it,

“You can figure that out on your own, I got shit to do.”

With a sense of exhilaration, Ellie jogs out and circles to the back of the building, her eyes scanning the snow-covered ground for any sign of movement where she notices a fresh set of foot and hoofprints, meeting at a point along the line where they become one trail of hoofprints, a delicate dance littering the frozen canvas.

Hope surges within Ellie as, once again, she follows the tracks. She has to move fast; you have a horse and she has only her feet. The air is tense with anticipation, but she somehow manages to power through the all-consuming exhaustion and hunger with the promise of getting closer to the elusive figure she seeks.

The sun dips lower on the horizon; the bitter cold forgotten in the warmth of purpose.

Nothing is left of your house but the gnarled bones of the home it once was. The memories of all you left behind seep through the cracked walls – the good and the bad, a silent witness to the passage of time.  You hold your breath captive in your tightened chest and push open the door, its rusty hinges protesting your return with a shrill creak.

The air is thick with dust dancing in the slivers of dim light that manage to pierce through boarded windows. Everything surrounding you, once thriving and familiar, is now reduced to mere echoes, whispers. Your fingers gently trace the life left in the fray, your gaze sweeping over the remnants of all you lost to the destruction. There’s nothing but blood left to salvage, to hold onto.

You lay in the centre of what used to be your bedroom, save for the actual bed, beside the shadow of the place where Soren used to lie, but there is no reprieve. You can’t look at it, your gaze pointed to the damp-stained ceiling, rust-coloured organic forms scattered across it.

If there’s one thing you can trust to remain a constant in your life, it’s that memories flood your mind no matter when or where you are, unbidden and unwelcome. Here, you can let them play out wholly, succumb to the deserved guilt that you cannot let yourself escape.

Trace the mustard outline of the leakages in the wallpapered walls with the movement of your weary pupils, stop trying to battle the thoughts as they influx from the depths. Turn your head to look at the ruined wall – no matter how hard you scrubbed, droplets of what once was his blood, and his blood only, taken over by that cruel evil, seeped through and infected it just as the clicker infected him. They still burn as hot and bright as they did that night, staring back at you.

You had been splayed out on the floor, over tattered blankets, similar to now, waiting for Soren, who had heard a noise beyond the gate. The worry was becoming an annoyance, so you got up and ran out into the night to find him, further out than you usually would on your own.

You should’ve stayed. Never should’ve wandered. It was your fault he had to fight off that clicker, the scar etched into his back for all eternity, evidence of your fatal error. Even though you made it home with adrenaline pumping through your veins, the nagging sting eventually became an undeniable ache, and from that point, Soren was already dead.

He begged and begged, eyes glassed over for the first time since your mother died, but your pathetic selfishness left him shrinking beside the new force overcoming his body, till he became what he prayed he would never become.

Then, and only then, did you do it. Coward that you are, bashing his obliterated skull over and over in the haze, blood and brains sent adrift, consuming all the surfaces they landed on, your mind, body, and soul, for the rest of your life, and anything that lies beyond.

There’s a violent shift and you jolt back to the surface, gasping for air like you were drowning with sharp, shallow, greedy breaths.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ellie's urgent voice cuts through the remnants of the memory.

"I got you," she whispers, a breathless relief in her voice. You, disoriented and still caught in an intersection between past and present, struggle to hold back the already fallen tears and even in spite of the glaring truth that you came here wilfully, the sight of her brings sweet relief.

“Ellie-”

“Shimmer.”

“Huh?”

“The horse’s name is Shimmer.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

A Terrible Accident ~ Part 3

A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT MASTERLIST

< previous part

Summary: The Team works on a plan to help you and Bucky.

Word Count: 1,875ish

Warnings: talk of rape, abuse, trauma

Notes: Been awhile for this update... sorry about that... read with caution...

Bucky wouldn’t allow any of the Wakandans inside his cell, including Shuri. Luckily, Shuri had the technology to be able to still run the needed tests. It took her a few hours to finish running what she needed to before gathering the team into one of the conference rooms. Shuri didn’t put any of the information she gathered on the screens yet. Not wanting any of the team members to read ahead.

“What have you found, Shuri?” Steve asked, unable to wait any longer. He was worried for his best friend.

“As I feared, something has happened to the rewiring that we had done to Barnes and the Winter Soldier was able to return,” she admitted. Steve’s face dropped while the other team members tried to keep their composure. “My team and I are coming up with a plan. We think that we can do the same protocol—“

“The protocol that didn’t work?” Tony questioned with a scoff.

“There are tweaks that can be made. I was hoping to have your help, Stark, as well as Dr. Banner’s.”

“How will you do the protocol when Barnes won’t allow anyone in the cell with him?” Asked Sam.

“With the previous protocol, we put him in cryo until I could—“

“No. No,” Steve interrupted. “Bucky cannot go under again.”

“Let Shuri finish, Steve,” Nat said.

“As I was saying,” Shuri continued, “we put Barnes in cryo and then woke him up to do the protocol. With his resistance to even having people in the same room as him, I believe we need to have him under the whole time and wake him only to test it.”

“He won’t agree to this,” said Sam. “Not at all.”

“He’ll do it for Y/N,” Steve defended. “He’ll do anything for Y/N.”

“He believes that shutting himself away is for Y/N’s sake,” Wanda said. “I don’t know if he will believe that this will actually work after this.”

“Y/N can convince him.”

“Y/N’s not allowed to go anywhere near Barnes,” Tony said. “As per his orders and mine. It’s for the best.”

“She may be the only one able to help Bucky.”

“She’s also seriously injured in the med bay thanks to your friend.”

“He wasn’t—“

“It’s Barnes’ prints and sperm that were found all over her! It was him! I don’t care that you believe him to have two separate personalities, it was still him! He is not going near her and vice versa. End of discussion.”

~~~

You knew that the Team had been pulled into a meeting. This was your chance to sneak away and see Bucky. You knew that Tony would be incredibly pissed at you, but you needed to see Bucky. It was harder to get down to the detention cells than you had originally thought, all due to your injuries. 

Walking as quickly as you could, which wasn’t very fast at all, you searched for the cell that Bucky was in. It broke your heart when you found him in the farthest cell away from the elevator and stairwell. Holding your breathe, you took the final step needed to stand in front of the one-way glass. 

Bucky looked awful. He was in the corner on the floor. His hair was hanging over his face, but failing to hide the dark circles under his sad eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t changed and your blood was still splattered over him. The only thing missing was his metal arm. You ran your eyes over the room to see that his arm had been tossed across the room. It broke your heart to see him like this, yet… there was a tiny voice inside your head telling you to run away. You hate that the Winter Soldier had made you scared of the man you loved. You knew that they were different, but ran now your head was beginning to trick you into thinking otherwise.

With a shaky hand, you went to press the button that would allow you to speak to him. Before you could press the button, you were stopped.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tony’s harsh voice made your head snap in his direction. He was bounding down the hall, with Steve, Natasha, and Sam behind him.

“I need to speak with him,” you responded, getting emotional. You backed up against the console, unknowingly pressing the button that would allow Bucky to hear what was going on. “He has to know that it’s not his fault. I have to tell him that it’s not his fault… I have to…” Tears were streaming down your face and you had begun trembling. “I have to make this right… I have to help him… I—“

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Natasha cooed, stepping past Tony to get to you. 

“No! It’s not okay!” You tried to lean away from Natasha’s caring hands. “It’s never going to be okay! I—I have to tell him that it’s not his fault! I have to convince him of that to help me believe it!”

Stunned silence echoed through the hall. The realization of what you had said—what you had admitted—hit you like a freight train.

“Oh my…” You suddenly broke down in tears and collapsed on the floor. “I didn’t mean that!” You cried. “I didn’t mean that!” Natasha followed you and pulled you into her. “I love him! I do!”

“We know, sweetie,” Natasha said as she tried her best to calm you.

“I know it was the Soldier,” you sobbed. “I know it wasn’t Bucky… He would never hurt me like this. But… But…”

Natasha glanced up at the men who were staring at the scene with sad, desperate looks. She turned her focus back to you. “Let’s go back to bed, Y/N. You need more rest.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with Natasha. You let her help you to your feet and guide you out of there. Tony, Steve, and Sam were frozen in their spots for a moment trying to process what you had said. 

“Shit,” Sam muttered. He quickly went over and pressed the button that turned off the sound for Bucky.

Steve’s eyes widened and he rushed over to the window to check on his friend. Bucky was standing in the center of the room, head down. The men could see the tears trailing down his face and falling onto the floor.

“How do we fix this?” Steve whispered, eyes never leaving his friend.

“I don’t know if there’s a way, Cap,” Sam admitted. 

~~~

Staring at the ceiling became your new thing to do. Members of the Team kept coming up to talk to you, but everything they were saying was fuzzy. You kept replaying the last few days in your head. Every action. Every word. The shift between Bucky and The Winter Soldier. The fact that you had admitted that you were scared. 

“She needs help,” Sam whispered, watching you from outside your room. “Professional help.”

“They both do,” Natasha replied. “Hell, all of us do.”

“Shuri’s planning on forcing Bucky into cryo. I absolutely hate it, but there’s no other way.”

“We have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. She’s the only one who has a chance of ridding him of the Winter Soldier programing permanently.”

“Maybe we take them both to Wakanda. They have technology there that could help both of them in a way none of us are able. Shuri’s probably alright thinking about taking Bucky there anyway.”

“It’s not a terrible idea, though I don’t know how Tony would feel about taking Y/N away from here. You know she’s basically his sister.”

“He needs help, too. He hasn’t fully healed from the fact that The Winter Soldier killed his parents and then this happens… Tony may never let Bucky in the compound again, let alone near Y/N.”

“This is an impossible situation.”

~~~

The team had been called by Shuri into a meeting. Everyone was sitting around the room, the tension thick.

“I’ve placed Sargent Barnes in cryo,” Shuri informed. “I will be moving him to Wakanda for further treatment.”

Steve stood next to Shuri. “I’m going with them and will be supervising everything,” he explained. “I will still be on duty and will do what is necessary from Wakanda, but I need to be there for Bucky.”

“Natasha and I were talking,” Sam spoke up, “and we think that maybe Y/N should go to Wakanda as well.”

“Absolutely not!” Tony immediately argued. “She will never go near Barnes again. Understood? You heard her, she openly admitted to being scared of him.”

“They wouldn’t need to talk. Wakanda just has better resources—“

“That we can bring here if needs be! I’ve already contacted the best therapists that money can buy and are moving them to the compound for the time being. She needs to be home to heal and away from that monster.”

“It’s not a monster, Tony!” Steve shouted. “He’s my friend! He is all of ours friend!”

“Not anymore he’s not. Who ever wants to go with them can go, but Y/N will remain at the compound. End of discussion.”

~~~

Steve sighed as sat on your bed. You were still awake, but staring at the ceiling like you had been since you came back into this room. It was dark outside and the only light coming into the room was from the hallway.

“Bucky and I are leaving in the morning,” Steve whispered, unsure if you could even comprehend his words. “Sam’s going to join us in a few days. He wants to make sure you’re alright. Wanda and Vision said they’ll come, too. We might be able to use their powers to help Bucky finally be free of the programing, so that’s hopeful.” He stared at you for a silent moment. “I’m so sorry about everything, Y/N/N…” Tears collected in his eyes. “I wish that I could fix this more… I know that the two of you love each other. And I have to hope everything will work out. It will.” He stood up and leaned over you. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll keep you in the loop, no matter what Tony does, I promise.”

Steve turned away and almost missed your quiet, “don’t.”

He spun back around and hurried back to your side. “What?”

“Don’t keep me updated… please,” you rasped, growing emotional. Steve thought his heart couldn’t break any further. “I… I need time… and I… I don’t want the pressure… I’m sorry, Steve.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head. “Please don’t apologize to me. If that’s what you want, then I will respect that.”

“I’m so sorry.” Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Don’t be. I will be calling to check on you though, okay? Can’t let you think I forgot about you.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll get through this, Y/N, no matter what. And don’t let Tony force you into doing anything you don’t agree with. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Please let the know if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Steve gave your forehead a kiss before he got up and left. You went back to staring at the ceiling, letting yourself drown in the weight of it all.

next part >

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon A Dream - Chapter 4 (Lucifer X Reader) (Alastor X Reader)

My Masterlist

In a sleeping beauty-inspired AU, a curse is placed over you when you strike up a deal with Heaven to protect baby Charlie, causing you to lose your memory. You remember nothing once the curse takes over; not your marriage with Lucifer, not the family you had with the two of them, nothing. So when a strange smiling demon offers you a place to stay when you can't remember where 'home' is, you take him up on his offer. 

(WARNINGS) - Updated as chapters are added

Gendered terms used (mom, good girl, wife) but otherwise gender neutral pronouns used

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

Minor assault - Chapter 3 only

Relationship coercion/manipulation - Chapter 4 and onward

Possessiveness and jealousy in relationships - Chapter 6 and 7

Sexual assault - Chapter 8 and Chapter 9

Minor anxiety attack - Chapter 8 only

Assault (choking) - Chapter 9

Torture (blunt force trauma, broken bones, blood) - Chapter 9

Hickey giving and biting - Chapter 10

Relationship fighting - Chapter 11 and Chapter 12

Descriptions of anxiety/panic - Chapter 11 and Chapter 12

Blood/major injury - Chapter 11

Updates might be a little slower now due to school and everything but I promise I haven't given up on this story! Also wanted to say that this is still mainly a Lucifer X Reader, he's coming back into the picture soon I swear, I'm just pulling some strings behind the scenes for now ;)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (You are here), Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

Banners by @strangergraphics

It was an awkward-looking building, monstrously tall and squatting on top of a hill, cobbled together from various parts and visibly repaired multiple times. But it had an air of charm to it that you didn’t mind, it seemed…homey. Comforting. Alastor had walked you through the door, arm still linked with yours. 

“Alastor! Sooo glad you're back! We’ve been meaning to look into branching out our recruiting services and we were wondering if…we…could…” A bubbly blonde bounced in front of the two of you but she lost her energy when her eyes landed on you, her whole body coming to a dead stop as her words faltered and died into silence. You could feel the heat rise to your face as she stared you down. 

“A moment, Charlie, if you would. I found this lovely individual wandering the streets and in need of some help. They’re looking for a place to stay, poor thing can’t seem to remember much of anything currently. Surely we have room for them here?” The static surrounding his voice seemed to fill the room. 

She seemed caught off guard by his question, as if she had been locked in a trace staring at you. “Oh…oh! O-of course! Yeah, absolutely! Um…why don’t you show them to one of our empty rooms for now,” she told Alastor, then turned back to you, “and then I can show you around the place after you get settled in? There’s a few others I’m sure you’d like to meet. My name’s Charlie, by the way, but I’m sure you already figured that out.” She smiled, blush adorning her pale cheeks. 

“Wonderful. We’ll catch up soon, then!” Alastor answered before you could, pulling you away from Charlie and towards the grand staircase on the other side of the room. 

You acted fast, twisting your head back and telling her, “It was nice to meet you, Charlie,” as he practically dragged you away. Her name seemed to click off your tongue. Strange. You didn’t know any Charlies. Maybe you had? 

The place was sprawling, twisting hallways that all looked alike, spidering off in all directions. You were grateful Alastor was with you, however creepy he seemed. One wrong step and you could have easily gotten lost here yourself. Your eyes roamed the halls as he guided you, cane clicking against the hardwood as he hummed a tune. Crimson red wallpaper lined every wall, adorned with a print of off-color snakes, apples, and wings. There seemed to be tacky circus decor everywhere; decades-old if the layers of dust were to speak. This place was odd, and even with your stunted memory you could remember a lot of strange places around Hell, but this one took the damned cake. 

“Here we are, your new room!” He opened the door, revealing a quaint little hotel room, set with what you had expected; a bed, dresser, desk, and a small armchair. “It’s a modest little setup, I admit. If you’d like, I’d be happy to help fetch you some things to make it more of your own. All you need do is ask.” He leaned his back against one side of the door frame, ears brushing the top of the framing with his cane outstretched in front of him, as you curiously roamed the room. He sounded sincere but that smile was still so…off-putting. 

“Thank you, Alastor, I’ll…consider it. I’d like a moment, alone. Please.” You plopped down on the bed, mentally exhausted. Well, your bed now, you supposed. 

“Hm. Very well! I’ll let Charlie know you’ll be down shortly, then.” And with that he disappeared, sinking into a black cloud of smoke and vanishing through the floor. Your door was still wide open, but you didn’t care, flopping backwards against the mattress and sighing. Your hands smacked against your face, covering your eyes as your whole expression scrunched up in frustration. This whole situation was more than you could handle. Tears burned underneath your eyelashes but you forced them back, anger replacing the despair. You felt a lot of things, but feeling sorry for yourself would not be one of them. 

A sniffle broke through your barricades anyway. 

This shit was hopeless. 

“Are you…doin’ okay?” You heard a voice call out, a knock reverberating off of the wood of your door as they spoke. You shot up, spooked, and pulled your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball against the headboard of your bed. “Woah, hey, sorry, didn’ mean to scare ya. You just…seemed like you coulda used a friend.” He held up his arms in peace, all…four…of them, as he walked into your room, still staying a good distance away from you on the bed, though.

“Sorry, it’s been…a really long day.” You relaxed a little, lowering your guard. This demon was different, far different than everyone else you had met today. He was dressed femininely, all pink and short hems, long spidery legs accentuated by tall boots. But his smile was kind, the metropolitan accent rolling off his tongue in a way that put you at ease. 

“Sure looks like it. You’re new, right? Neva seen your face round before.” He sat on the very edge of your bed, still conscious of giving you space. 

“Yeah, I…I just arrived today.”

“You got a name, sugar?” 

“It’s…” You hesitated, debating if you could trust this demon with the truth of your situation. He seemed sincere enough. “I don’t know, actually. I can’t remember.” 

He leaned back on all four of his arms, his eyes widening as he processed what you had said. But eventually he closed them for a moment as he nodded his head; a look of sympathy. “Memory problems, huh? I can understand that. Name’s Angel Dust, though you can jus’ call me Angel, sweet cheeks.” He winked playfully and you couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh. He was adorable, in an over-the-top eccentric sort of way. “Charlie show ya around yet? Meet the rest of the bunch stayin’ here?” 

“Not yet. I stopped here for a moment first to…catch my bearing, I guess. Didn’t seem to help as much as I’d hoped, though I appreciate you trying to help, Angel.” Your shoulders slumped, but there was a small smile on your face as you thanked the spider. 

“Course, sugar. Wan’ me to walk you down to the lobby? This place can be a fuckin’ maze if you’re not used to it.” 

“I’d like that, Angie.”

He beamed at the nickname, golden tooth shining in his sharp toothy grin. 

When the two of you made it down the stairs you knew you were in for a long night. The patrons of the hotel were sitting around in sofas and armchairs in the foyer, surprisingly only six of them, and they were a colorful bunch even from afar. 

Alastor and Charlie, whom you had met earlier, along with a fluffy-looking winged cat, a peculiar woman with a missing eye, an anxiously jittering snake, and a tiny cyclops girl who was perched atop Alastor’s head, tiny hands busy stringing dead roaches together on a string. As soon as Alastor saw you descending the stairs next to Angel his face creased and his smile became strained. He picked up the girl off of his head as he stood up, placing her down where he had been sitting. She hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“Ah, there you are dear! We were beginning to wonder when you would grace us with your presence again.” Alastor’s voice carried twice as much static than usual as he walked over to you. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Angel grimacing, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or disgust. You hadn’t been around him long enough to know. 

It had sounded almost sarcastic to you, until Alastor grabbed your hand gingerly and placed a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. The gesture sent heat straight to your face. 

Before anyone else had time to react to the strangely loving gesture he had grabbed your hand and led you over to the circle of furniture, taking a seat next to the small girl he had placed on the couch earlier and pulling you down to be next to him, not giving you any other option of whom you could have chosen to sit by. 

It was disorienting at first, being manipulated like a doll, but once you settled into a comfortable position you realized everyone’s eyes were on you. Your eyes widened and then fell to the floor, the stained carpet suddenly a lot more interesting than the people in front of you. Anxiety thrummed through your veins as you shifted uncomfortably under the group’s gaze. 

“It’s rude ta stare, ya freaks.” You heard Angel speak up, breaking the aggressive silence. He was sitting across from you, lanky legs outstretched almost to the point of touching yours, and your eyes flicked upwards towards him at the sound of him defending you. You mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him, grateful for the rescue, and he nodded in return. 

“Would you like to introduce yourself? And we can share about ourselves too, get to know each other better!” Charlie exclaimed, a beaming smile on her face as she gestured a pointed finger between you and the group. You heard the winged cat grumble in the corner after her statement. 

“Well, I, um…I’m having memory issues, I guess? Can’t remember my name, can’t seem to remember much of anything, really. That’s why I came here. I’m looking for help to fix…whatever this is.” The words had started to tumble out but you eventually put your train of thought on a coherent track. The reactions around the room were mixed. 

“We’ll help in any way we can! Though we don’t specialize in that sort of thing here. We’re more…rehabilitation focused.” Charlie had seemed the most reactive to your disclosure, her face shifting from shock to sadness to understanding to sympathy within seconds. 

“If I become too much trouble I have no problems with finding a place elsewhere to stay.” You told her, giving her a nod of your head confidently. You refused to be a burden on these people, even if you had just met them. You weren’t incapable of fending for yourself. 

“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room here for you to stay for however long you’d like. Though we will need some way to address you, of course. Can’t have you running around this place without a proper name.” Alastor shot your words down and threw an impossible task at you all in one breath. He had leaned back into the couch, his body tilted towards you, arms outstretched and leaning against his cane propped in front of him on the floor. 

His smile seemed to mock you. A name? Where were you supposed to get a name from? Your mind was a mess! 

“Um…”

You wracked your brain for something, anything. There had to be some memories left, buried underneath the layers of fog. Your brow furrowed as you weaved your way through your subconscious, getting lost in thought. It was mostly static, blips of scenes and half-finished faces, all of which would flit away before you could focus. But there was one that kept resurfacing, scratching at the back of your mind. It was fuzzy, but it was there. A blurred-out face, someone important, calling you by a name. 

“Ducki. I'd like to be called Ducki.” 

They had all been arguing with Alastor, apparently, while you were lost in thought, but their attention snapped to you once you spoke. 

“That’s a weird name!” The little girl exclaimed, speaking for the first time that evening, her hands flying into the air and showing off her now-finished dead roach garland. 

“Nifty!” Someone scolded her. 

“If that’s what you’ve chosen then Ducki it shall be,” Alastor said, supporting your choice. 

The group fell into casual conversation after that, chatting with one another, and you, about anything and everything. Though there was a sense of nagging crawling through your skin as you talked with the other residents. It was persistent, and you couldn’t place your finger on the reasoning, until you scanned the room, tired of the feeling and desperate to find the source. 

Charlie’s eyes had been boring into you the entire time.

To be continued in Chapter 5...

Taglist - Let me know if you would like to be added!

@kyo-kyo1 @voxslays @the-enderwolf-princess @fangthesandwing @hayamie @qardasngan

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Eight

Day: Monday, October 9th Time: 11:00 PM EST

October arrived without warning. Neil knew their match against the Ravens was coming up fast, but it still startled him when he realized they were already a week into the month. The game was only six days away. If the Foxes were having a typical season, the match might have drawn a little less attention, even with Kevin on their line. This year, however, they were at an unprecedented six-and-one record. The only game they'd lost was their opener against Breckenridge. They'd won three games by the skin of their teeth, but victories were victories no matter how they got them. The Foxes were pulling together and getting stronger one week at a time. No one expected them to win against the Ravens, but it was obvious they'd put up a spectacular fight. The Foxhole Court didn't have enough seating to accommodate the crowd this game was sure to draw, so the school sold discounted seats in the basketball stadium and promised to broadcast the game live on the scoreboard televisions there. Palmetto State University spent the entire second week preening and prepping for its day in the spotlight. Groundskeepers trimmed every square inch of the sprawling campus. Cleaning teams drained and scrubbed out the manmade pond in front of the library. Student clubs were invited to design and hang banners wherever they could fit them. Rocky Foxy the mascot walked the campus for hours every day and poked his oversized head into classrooms to get the students worked up. The Vixens set up camp in the amphitheater to pass out temporary tattoos and foam paw prints. There was an event every night leading up to Friday.

Art made by me.

(graphic design is my passion)

[spacefinch]

Marvel stuff:

“Sam, Son of Wil” — Thor (probably)

Peter Parker (faking a British accent): The hawk scans his territory for prey. Spotting it from several meters away, he locks onto his target and attacks. Clint Barton (doing archery target practice): [eye roll] Peter: And he strikes. The unsuspecting creature will never know what hit it. The hawk now pauses to survey the wide open countryside he calls home. Clint: [turns to glare at Peter]: I’m trying to focus here! What do you think this is, a British nature documentary! Peter (still in British accent): One should not forget that nearly all birds of prey— including this one— are very territorial. Clint: I swear, if you don’t stop narrating…

Sign in the Avengers Tower kitchen: FOOD ONLY ABSOLUTELY NO SCIENCE IN THIS KITCHEN

Steve Rogers: [sneezes] Another Avenger: GOD BLESS AMERICA

Tony Stark: [casually holding Thor’s hammer] Thor: WHAT IN THE NINE REALMS?! [completely loses his marbles] A few hours earlier Stark: [3-D printing an exact replica of the hammer] I can’t wait to see the look on Thor’s face…

No one: Absolutely no one: Thor: [slams coffee mug on table] “ANOTHER!” [slams beer glass on table] “ANOTHER!” [dents seemingly durable travel mug] “ANOTHER!” After these incidents, Tony Stark decides to invent an indestructible mug for Thor.

Team Midnight Ice Cream Party: Tony, Thor, Clint, Wanda, Peter, Scott, Quill, Groot, and Shuri.

Whenever Steve is really stressed out, he goes to the Bartons’ farm and splits firewood using his super-soldier strength. Sometimes Bucky Barnes uses this coping method as well.

Shuri finds the most unattractive and embarrassing pictures of her brother T’Challa and uses them as reaction memes. And she sends them to all her friends so they too can use them.

Someone (most likely Peter Parker) introduces Thor to YouTube and sets him up with a channel.

A few of Thor’s greatest YouTube hits include: ➢ A series where he’s like “Hold this” and hands Mjolnir over to another Avenger, then watches their reaction as they fall over. ➢ How to do “Get Help”, featuring Loki. ➢ How Long Can We Keep Our Friends Convinced We Have No Clue How To Use Modern Technology? (guest starring Steve Rogers)

Scott Lang likes going to the zoo. Only he likes messing with the other visitors. He uses ventriloquism and other stage magic techniques to make it look like the animals are talking, throwing food at people, etc… At the end of the day, he runs into the parking lot, shouting, “THEY’RE LOOSE, EVERYBODY! RUN!!!”

Clint Barton, meeting the Revengers: Thor: So this is a little team I put together. I call it “The Revengers.” C: “Revengers?” I see what you did there. So who is part of it? T: Myself… C: Nice. T: Bruce Banner… Banner: Good to see you, Clint. C: You too. T: Valkyrie… She’s a new friend. Valkyrie: [introduces herself] T: and Loki. Loki: Hello. C: Wait a minute… Narrator: FLASH. BACK. [cut to Loki mind-controlling Clint] [cut to the Avengers fighting Loki in New York] [cut to Clint aiming the bow at Loki in Stark Tower] Narrator: END OF FLASHBACK. Thor: [pointing to Loki] Don’t worry. He’s good now. Most of the time. Loki: [pulls out a dagger] Clint: [draws his bow and arrow] Thor: [stepping between them] There will be no fighting here today. Is that clear? Everyone: Yes. Clint: [does the “I’m watching you” gesture in Loki’s direction]

“Oh, sure, when Spider-Man jumps and swings from building to building, he’s a ‘hero’ and ‘protecting the city,’ but when I do it, I’m ‘reckless’ and ‘a menace to society.’ WHY?!” — Peter Parker, in civilian clothing

(At the teacup ride in Disneyland) Tony, Steve, T’Challa, and Natasha: spinning slowly, enjoying their ride in peace. Peter, Bucky, Shuri, and Yelena: Spinning really fast, and yelling at the top of their lungs. (Bucky is using his vibranium arm to spin the teacup at the speed of sound, while Peter, Shuri, and Yelena keep chanting “FASTER!”)

(At an outdoor summer barbecue) Wanda: [levitating watermelons with her powers] Clint: [using a katana to slice the watermelons in half]

Animal superhero club: Members: Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Ant-Man (Scott Lang), Wasp (Hope van Dyne), Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff), the Hawkeyes (Clint Barton and Kate Bishop), Rocket Racoon, Mantis, Black Panther (T’Challa), Falcon (Sam Wilson), White Wolf (Bucky Barnes), Goose the cat (technically a Flerken), and Groot (technically a plant but he was very insistent about joining).

Club rules:

Goose, please don’t eat any of our friends.

Members will sit IN CHAIRS, LIKE CIVILIZED PEOPLE, during club meetings. This means no hanging on the ceiling, Peter.

Rocket, please refrain from stealing Bucky’s vibranium arm.

WATCH YOUR STEP! We don’t want Scott or any of his insect friends getting squashed.

Pets are allowed, as long as they are well-behaved.

Those who can fly, please do it outdoors.

No video games during meetings. This means you, Groot.

Clint teaches the other Avengers sign language because he thinks it is a useful skill (which it is) and everyone should know it (also true). Most of the Avengers use it properly (for hand signals during missions and to have serious conversations), but Peter Parker and his friends use it to sign memes and pop culture references to each other.

How Nick Fury lost his eye has become somewhat of a tall tale amongst the SHIELD agents and the Avengers. And if anyone asks Fury what really happened, he just gives them a look that means “I have more important matters to attend to than this question.”

Ant-Man being fired into battle by the other Avengers: Exhibit A: Hawkeye: Okay, Scott. Jump on this arrow. Ant-Man: No problem. Exhibit B: Cap: I’ll throw the shield. You hang on tight. Ant-Man: Okay…. Exhibit C: Thor: Tiny man, shrink and ride Mjolnir into battle. Ant-Man: Ummm…. Exhibit D: Iron Man: All right, get on this missile… Ant-Man: No!

Whenever Loki gets particularly upset and needs comfort, he’ll shape-shift into a cat and seek affection from people. So far, the only person who knows it’s him is Thor.

Scott: [playing the drums] [explosion in distance] Scott: [plays drums louder] Also: Peter Quill: [listening to 80s music on his Walkman) [explosion in distance] Quill: [turns up the volume on the Walkman]

Every other superhero: This is my real name and this is my superhero name. Doctor Strange: I’m Doctor Strange. Someone in the crowd: But what’s your real name? Doctor Strange: [sigh]

Tony Stark: [emailing Clint Barton] You know those crazy trick arrows you bring on missions? I have some ideas for those. I’m attaching the plans with this email. Clint: [emailing him back] Thanks. I’ll look at them later. A few days later, Tony invites Clint over to Avengers Tower, where they hang out and work on making trick arrows (and other unnecessary but cool weapons).

Clint, trying to access the Quinjet’s controls: “Voice activation required.” “Barton.” “Access denied.” “Clint Barton.” “Access denied.” “AGENT Barton.” “Access denied.” “Hawkeye.” “Access denied.” [frustrated] “HAWKEYE!” “Access denied.” [grumbling] “Darn it, Stark.” [begrudgingly] “Legolas.” “Access granted.” Steve Rogers has the same problem. The system won’t let him in until he very begrudgingly says “Capsicle.”

Chaotic trio idea: Hawkeye, Yondu, and Doctor Strange.

[aestheticfangirl]

“Hello , Hyunjin, I reached at the hotel”, Nishi replied. She had to abruptly take a flight and reach in a different country altogether. Because her dear boyfriend suddenly sent her the ticket without any explanation.

“Hello baby, I hope you reached without any issues. Get some rest and we will celebrate in the evening”, he said. “But Hyunjin, you should tell me what are the plans?”, Nishi was getting anxious. She had no idea what are the plans. “Don’t you trust me?”, he replied. 

“Of course I do, but still – “, she was cut off mid sentence. “No buts, I will send someone to pick you up all you have to do is rest now and enjoy later, bye love, I gotta go”, he said and cut the call.

Nishi was already feeling jet lagged she didn’t even realize how fast she fell asleep. When she woke up it was already dark. “Oh shoot, now I have to get ready in a hurry. Why do I always do this?” she scolded herself and then started getting ready in a panic state.

 Earlier, this week she went shopping with one of her university friend and got herself a black dress with cherry prints and a black sandal. She did very minimal make up and took her black bag. Hyunjin had texted her that the driver is already in the lobby of the hotel to pick her up. She rushed down and to her surprise the driver was still there. She got in the car immediately without any delay. 

It took them 30 minutes to reach the place which looked like a stadium and then she realized he had brought her to his concert. She smiled to herself and then the driver handed her the ticket. She was then guided by a staff to the very front of the stage.  And then the performances began. It was the first time she was seeing him from this close performing on a stage. He looked absolutely stunning and perfect. The way he often came close winked and smiled at her gave her those butterflies again and again. She still couldn’t believe herself that the man in front of her performing so aggressively is her boyfriend who sulks on tiny matters, cuddles her everyday and act as a baby. It was her happiest birthday.

Once the performances ended a staff member came and guided her inside to the backstage. Where everyone was already present and Hyunjin was holding a dark chocolate cake. And the moment she entered everyone started singing happy birthday. Hyunjin came closer to her, “Now close your eyes and make a wish”. She did exactly that and blew the candles. She cut the cake to everyone over there. 

Then they all came back to the hotel. Everyone went their own ways wishing her happy birthday again. She and Hyunjin came to their room and when she entered the room was already decorated with golden and black balloons and there were fairy lights and a big happy birthday banner. In the corner there were candles lit and their food along with some champagne.  Hyunjin hugged her from the behind and whispered, “Happy Birthday Love, I know I couldn’t do much because of my busy schedule but I hope you liked this”. 

She turned around to face him. His hairs were falling on his face and he was looking ethereal as ever. He was still holding her from her waist, “This much is more than enough baby, I couldn’t ask for a better way to celebrate”.  And then she felt his warm lips on hers. The kiss wasn’t only electrifying but comforting and sweet. The kiss continued until they both ran out of breath. “You should eat first, you must be hungry”, Nishi said.  He smiled and nodded. He kissed her forehead and said, “You are the best thing happened to me Nishi. I hope I get to spend all my coming years with you”.  He bent down a little and cupped her face and continued, “I promise Nishi I will always try to make every moment of our magical and will protect you from every evil possible”. 

Nishi smiled and hugged him tightly and said, “I know Hyunjin and I will forever be in awe that I am with the most perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for”. She pulled out a little, “Now enough with this let’s go and eat before the food turns cold”. 

Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY @nihyunluvskookie 🫂 this post is solely for you. I hope you like it. Also i wish you good health and tons of happiness for today and the coming days, months and years. Enjoy a lot and have fun.💗

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