#I would do anything for them please I will only draw them forever if you asked

[lorastyrels]

Got unfinished business, ain't we? Cases to solve, ghosts to help out 🔎

[xxplastic-cubexx]

sequel to this ramble cause the way james talks bout the reduced cherik scenes throughout the xmen films in this video is making me want to kill people. 'we'll always have paris darling' what if we all blew up.

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[readychilledwine]

hii!! i’m in love w your writing!!❤️❤️❤️ can i please request one where it’s azriel x reader. Feyre sees azriel wearing a ring on his left finger and asks,

” i’ve seen you wear that ring forever azriel, what does it mean? ”

” it’s my wedding ring ”

and her jaw drops bc she didn’t know he even had a lover.

” who is she? do i know her? what is she like? ”

he smiles faintly and says

” her name is y/n, she’s my mate and wife and she isn’t a warrior like us, she works at a library downtown. you don’t know her, only rhys and cassian do. we have a house in the outskirts in velaris. she is very sweet and i love her more than anything, our daughter is- ”

” YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER ????? ”

he nods and tells them all about her, he asks if feyre wants to meet reader and their daughter and feyre smiles and nods. He asks reader in the mating bond if it’s okay to bring her, nyx, rhys and cassian to dinner. reader says yes and azriel tells feyre he’ll pick them all up tonight before leaving to help his wife prepare. Reader meets feyre and become friends instantly, nyx and their daughter become friends aswell.

” how did i not know this?? this makes so much sense now. How he never sleeps here and he’s gone for days sometimes but not on missions. ” feyre asks rhysand.

”don’t worry i didn’t know for a long time either, Az is a very private person, he is extremely protective of his family. i’m glad he told me at all. either way he’s still a mystery sometimes, i learn new things about him all the time and i’ve known him for over 500 years” rhys says and laughs knowing your perfect for his brother 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🥹😍

Haven

Warnings - none

A/n - I played with this for a while, rewrote it several times, and then made something that met in the middle of what came to mind, but still stuck with the request. Hopefully, you love it, dear 💜

Feyre had been in Velaris for 5 years. 5 long years and she had yet to figure out why Azriel kept a simple black band on his left ring finger at all times.

The two of them were on the couch, Rhys across from them, as they looked over maps of a few of the Illyrian Camps that had been recently renovated. The new cabins, mess halls, and dorms were a huge success, and figuring out the same layout for the remaining few was a huge topic of interest for the three smaller camps.

She glanced at the ring one more time before tapping it. Rhys and Azriel both looked at her, brows raised. "So, not magic," she muttered to herself. She tried spell cleaving it, "And not a ward or shield."

Azriel blinked at her, brows knit in silent question. Rhys had his hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement. Leave it to his wife to provide entertainment without knowing it was needed. "I-" she sighed. "You wear this ring all the time. I'm trying to figure out why."

Both of the males chuckled. "Probably the same reason you wear your wedding ring, Feyre Darling."

The High Lady made face, tapping the ring again. "Don't be ridiculous, Rhys. I would know if Azriel was married."

"Evidently not, my love."

Feyre and Azriel held eye contact, the male then going back to the maps. "Since I have extensive time in Steppes Peak, I think it would be easiest to move the mess hall here, at the base of the mountain, maintain the warroom in the carved out cave, and build better dorms here," he pointed to an empty part of the map.

Rhys nodded, drawing it out on the empty map he had. "I'm sure y/n will agree with whatever you say."

"Okay, stop." Feyre crossed her arms, pouting slightly at the two of them. "Azriel isn't married, and making up some name to make me feel stupid isn't kind."

Azriel sighed. He leaned back while dropping the scent ward he kept on himself at all times. He watched as her face fell. He knew his scent, chilled air and cedar, was the predominant one in the mateship, but now a soft floral scent, something like lavender and warm honey clung there softly.

"I've been married for longer than you have been alive, Fey." Azriel patted her hand. "I have a daughter older than you and another younger than Nyx."

He watched as her face fell, a small amount of hurt flashing across it. "Why didn't you tell me?" She paused, looking at the sleeping heir in his craddle. "We could be having play dates. I could have a friend who understands."

Guilt settled into his face as he pulled her into him. "I torture people for living, sweet sister. I execute people on your orders. I imprison people with a flick of your wrist." He tilted Feyre's head up. "Y/n has no combat training and refused to learn. She likes to sit at home writing poetry, baking, and cuddling our children. I do not bring her around or introduce them to anyone to keep them safe." His face held the ghost of a rare smile. "I think I've brought her to meet Rhys and Cassian once."

Rhys nodded. "I've met her once here and several times behind your back in town. Especially after my first niece was born."

Feyre kept her gaze on Nyx. "He could have a friend," her voice was distant.

Azriel stood, placing a kiss on her forehead as he did. "I'll be right back." Rhysand's smile grew wide. Folding the maps and putting them away. He moved to the liquor cabinet, bringing down one of his more expensive wines.

Azriel reappeared with you and both daughters in tow. Your oldest ran to Rhys, jumping on him and holding him tightly, her wings fluttering with joy as she did. "Hello, Amara," he nuzzled into her hair. "Missed you so much, baby girl. Cassian is on his way."

He walked with her in his arms to the table, setting the wine down and then carried her over to Feyre. "Would you like to meet your aunt?" She allowed Rhys to set her down and turned toward Feyre.

There was little question she was Azriel's. She was the beautiful artists dreamed of painting. Soft classic features framed with inky black hair that fell in gorgeous curls. "Feyre, this is our niece Amara. She's 56. She was my favorite suprise when I got home from the mountain."

She smiled shyly, keeping close to Rhysand. "Hi."

"Hi," Feyre didn't know what came over her, pulling the Illyrian female close to her and holding her. "I'm so excited to meet you."

Amara wrapped her arms around Feyre, returning the gesture. "Me too. Mom and I have been BEGGING dad for a while. But you know how the bats are."

The door slammed open, rushed loud footsteps and a panting filling the hall. "Where's my baby?!"

Amara pulled away from Feyre, smiling softly before moving away from all of them. She was rushed by Cassian, lifted up into his arms as he spun her.

Feyre looked to her side, noticing Azriel next to her, holding a swaddled bundle. "This is Iris. She's a month younger than Nyx." Azriel wouldn't look away from his daughter and her peaceful sleeping face. "I fear the day she loses her chipmunk cheeks."

Feyre looked around the room, trying to find the reason this was happening and felt her heart shift when she saw you, arm wrapped around Rhysand's bicep, looking at Nyx.

You were wingless, long dark hair braided back. Soft leggings and a sweater that was a few sizes too big covering your frame. Cassian had moved next to you, bumping you with his arm and smiling down at you. "He's so beautiful," your voice was a melody, a soft echo that brought calm to the room. "And so sweet. Look at those rosy cheeks."

Rhysand pulled you away, moving you back to Feyre. He handed you to Azriel, arms out expectedly. "Don't make me command it."

The shadowsinger placed his youngest in Rhysand's arms, hands shaking despite the trust between them, "Be careful with her. Please." Rhys nodded, moving over to Cassian. "Feyre, this is y/n, my wife and mat-"

Feyre didn't allow him to finish, hugging you instantly, tears lining her eyes as she did. "Please tell me we can be friends and cry about our babies together."

"I didn't realize that would even be a question. Of course we will be friends, and of course we will cry about all of the things. Our mates don't get it. Cassian, though, Cassian will join us."

The warlord stuck one finger in your direction. "Let me love them in peace, y/n."

You leaned into Feyre, "Has he cried while holding Nyx yet?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah. Big illyrian baby."

"The worst, aren't they? Rhysand, did you want me to make dinner?"

The High lord looked at Azriel, a small look of guilt on his face, "Please."

You squeezed Feyre's arm, kissing Azriel as you moved towards the kitchen. "You know where to find me if she needs me." He nodded.

Azriel moved to Cassian, watching like a hawk as the general snuggled the small babe in his arms. Amara was sitting by Nyx a look of love and adoration on her face as she sighed.

"She's perfect for Azriel in every way," Rhys stroked Feyre's hand. "I was nervous at first too when he brought her home. I was even more nervous when his fears manifested in the form of being deeply private with her. But she is perfect for him."

Feyre nodded, watching as Azriel glared as Cassian due to the loud squeak his baby had just let out.

"His girls are beautiful." Rhys hummed in agreement. "Y/n is beautiful."

Feyre moved to Amara's side, sitting next to her and smiling as her niece started asking questions.

She didn't realize it until now, but this was the missing piece. The part of the puzzle that had sat empty despite every thing around it being done. You and your girls were that lost center.

Now she just had to convince Azriel to keep bringing you around.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[justporo]

Headcanons about living with Astarion

I thought about some of this lately and since yesterday's warmup got out of hand... (Behold him lounging:)

First things first, if you think living with Astarion will be neat and organised just because he himself always looks put well together: you are in for a surprise

This man - as much as he cares for aesthetics - tends to be messy

Especially since it's been forever that he could actually have and keep stuff, so expect books everywhere, cups left on surfaces, stuff laying around on the floor (and let's be honest, growing up as a noble before didn't teach him anything about being domestic...)

He'll learn though, especially when you reach a point where you could almost throw stuff at him (but he still struggles with it and him buying so many books surely doesn't help)

Astarion is basically cat: lounging everywhere - no surface is safe! Although a comfy sofa or chaiselongue are preferred spots!

Especially when you've sat somewhere and it's still nice and warm and smells of you; "Was that your seat, darling? Well, not anymore!"

But then he would pull you in with a chuckle and have you cuddle up on his lap and also refuse to let you go ("Love, I've only just gotten comfortable, you can't leave now!")

What he lacks in order he makes up with style - to a point it might make your blood boil: "Astarion, please, I couldn't care less if the red of the drapes matches the pillow cases!" "Yes, well, darling - don't take it personally - but I wouldn't have expected you to care anyway." Then he has to dodge several pillows being flung at his head)

Astarion leaves little notes for you to find, like for example if he's gone to run some errands or maybe just because - to tell you he loves you; at some point it kind of becomes a game of him hiding notes somewhere in the house and waiting how long you take to find them - scolding you if you take too long! ("My sweet, a trained donkey would have found it by now! Open your eyes, love, you can't possibly be that distracted by my beautiful face!")

Astarion learns about companionable silence with you - obviously he's very chatty and you love nights just wasted away with talking and joking - about everything and anything; but he also learns how pleasant it can be to just sit there, all cozied up with you and feeling the deep peace of easy silence with you

That or spending some quality time together: him spending time with reading or doing embroidery, you with drawing, also reading or anything else - as long as you're together

At least for a while Astarion really enjoys having a place where he can just... be; obviously this eager little vampire can't sit still forever but he revels in the knowledge of having a place he can always return to, somewhere to be safe and comfy, somewhere he can always be with you

Alright - at least that's how I could very well imagine living with Astarion might be, hihi. This man keeps living in my head - by now I'm sure he's changed my brain chemistry forever, for good...

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[little-diable]

Prom – Jasper Hale (smut)

This is just a pwp drabble I had to write while rereading Midnight Sun. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Jasper and the reader are mates, so it's only natural he asks her out to prom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f)

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!vampire!reader (1k words)

It was dark out, they were engulfed by a thick blanket of the late night as they laid together. Jasper’s cold fingers danced up and down her forearm, stroking her cold skin with his cold fingers. No words were spoken as they listened to the unfamiliar silence, nothing could be heard besides the sounds mother nature created for them–all while the others were out hunting. 

“Darlin’,” he mumbled the nickname, forcing her golden eyes up to his. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but would you go to prom with me?”

Her laughter filled their shared room, echoing off the walls as she turned onto her stomach, staring up at her mate with excitement laced in her gaze. (Y/n) was sure that if she were still human she’d be blushing by now, struggling to say anything but a giddy yes. 

“I absolutely will, Jas’.” Their lips met for a kiss, letting their thoughts linger on the tips of their tongues while they sank further into the touch. She was too focused on the kiss, on the hours of silence they were barely offered, to pay attention to the way his hands disappeared beneath her shirt. Only as he flipped them did she let go of laugh, allowing him to rip her clothes off her body. 

“Somebody’s impatient.” (Y/n)’s teasing drew a groan from Jasper. His cold lips kissed their way down her throat while his hands explored her chest, tugging and squeezing to leave her moaning for him. Both wouldn’t draw this out, knowing that they weren’t ones for taking their time when chasing highs only blood and sex could offer, and yet she loved these almost sweet moments he offered her. 

“I always am when it comes to you, darlin’.” Their eyes met as his smirk grew wider. (Y/n) could only watch how he rose to his feet to get rid of his clothes, exposing his muscular body to her darkening eyes. He was everything she had always longed for, decades on her own had been worth it–all for this. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Feeling as if he was the cigarette to set her petrol station ablaze. A perfect inferno neither could run from. 

“Fuck me, Jas, let me feel you.” They held eye contact while he dipped his head down to let his tongue brush through her slit, moaning at her taste. His strong arms were wrapped around her thighs to keep her pinned down, knowing that she had no chance to fight him in a moment like this. He had her trapped. She was his to toy with. She was his most prized possession, forever and always. 

“My pretty darlin’, I’d burn the whole damn world down for you.” Her fingers tugged on his golden curls, drawing him closer while he rubbed her bundle with his thumb. She moaned his name, letting his smirk grow wider at the sounds she couldn’t hold back. He pushed her closer and closer, fucking her with his fingers while his tongue kept exploring her heat. A perfect mixture she could only cling to while knowing he’d pull away seconds before she could cum.

“Jas’, please.” Slowly, he pulled away from her. Jasper crawled up her body only to let (y/n) turn them around once again. She straddled his lap with a grin matching his. With their fingers interlaced, she held onto him as she sank down on him, letting her head roll back to let go of a loud moan. His free hand palmed her ass, desperate to touch her as if this was the first time they were doing it–reminding them of that very night years and years ago. 

(Y/n) moved faster and faster with every passing moment, high on the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her, making her feel more alive than ever before. He supported her every move, enjoying the sight of her straddling him, fucking herself on his cock while he got to marvel at her. 

“I love you, darlin’.” His smile grew wider, fully focused on (y/n) and the way she perfectly squeezed his cock. Some may call them a match made in hell, two undying lovers united in the growing flames, while others only focused on the love both clearly felt for one another, tied together by their strong bond. Whatever it was that kept them connected, both swore to hold onto it till the end of their time. 

“I love you too, Jasper, oh god, so fucking much.” No warning was spoken before he once again flipped them around. She stared up at him with wide eyes, letting him fuck them closer and closer to the edge with one hand placed on her throat and the other holding onto the metallic headrest. 

Their eyes held eye contact as she came, letting go of another moan while he chased his own high, fucking her with an all too fast speed human eyes wouldn’t be able to follow. It didn’t take him long to let go, to cum with a groan that was almost swallowed by their shared kiss. 

They held onto one another, clinging to their mate while they came down from their high, knowing that it was the first of many in the upcoming hours they were offered without nosy others close by. 

……

“Will you do that to me too?” Jasper had his front pressed against (y/n)’s back. Both had their eyes focused on Bella and Edward as (y/n) whispered the question. The newly formed couple was dancing outside, sharing hushed whispers that left Jasper and (y/n) grinning. 

“Kiss you out there or dance with you?” He gently squeezed her side, trying to pull her even closer as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck. (Y/n) turned in his grasp to stare up at her mate, filled with a giddiness she felt ever since crossing paths with him all those years ago. 

“How about both?”

[shomatoriashi]

10/07/24; 05:40pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you watch them fall in love with someone else ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes and warnings: unedited; non!mc reader; unrequited love; angst, no comfort. do not ask for a part 2. mc names for each story ( lorelai, ashley, teresa, melody )

thank you @/nyashykyunnie for providing the banners for this story ♡

{ she's got you mesmerized, while i die | why would you ever kiss me? | i'm not even half as pretty | you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester | but you like her better... i wish i was heather. }

to sylus, you were simply someone he hired to help with making his life easier. his relationship with you was nothing short of a mere business deal, with your mere existence seeming to be a means to an end.

yet foolishly enough, you had fallen for this cocky bastard, knowing you would do anything to please him-

anything to make him happy.

you couldn't count the instances where you sacrificed your own dignity for the sake of furthering his agenda alone. from sleeping with his enemies to obtain their secrets, to risking your life backing him up in various situations that more often than not, ended up in a gunfight-

you truly didn't understand why you would put your body and heart through such torture, simply to receive a mere nod of approval in response. it was during times like these, when you're so busy nursing your wounds, that you wondered why your traitorous heart beat so strongly for him, despite knowing how he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

in order to feel better about this whole situation, you managed to convince yourself that sylus was a busy man. that he didn't have time to feel such trivial emotions like love; that he treated you well enough, and as long as you could forever remain by his side, then you had no complaints.

you were a fool, purposely living in this tiny sandbox, convincing yourself that you could survive on mere scraps alone when it came to sylus.

yet that all changed when a certain hunter crash landed into his life, changing not only the course of his life-

but yours as well.

you had simply tagged along, being sylus's all too willing shadow when the young woman foolishly stepped into the n109 zone with an agenda of her own. as sylus takes her back to the warehouse, you could detect the fear and anxiety in her voice even when she willingly went against sylus.

and it was with those eyes, so filled with conviction, that you could see the way the walls around sylus's heart was beginning to crumble. he makes a few snide remarks to the woman, yet you could hear the amusement in his voice when he steps closer to her, pressing his hand over hers that felt much too sensual for your eyes.

envy was felt choking you, and you had to turn away from the scene. ice was felt coursing through your very veins at the sight, and you bit down against your bottom lip with such intensity that you swore that you were close to drawing blood.

thoughts pertaining to your denial kept repeating itself in your mind, like a never-ending mantra, and you knew that deep down you were simply trying to lie to yourself.

sylus was simply using that hunter as well.

she was just as much of a tool to him like you were.

that woman is nothing special.

yet it all came crashing down one late evening, when you stepped into his room in hopes of seeking some sort of comfort from him. you were dressed in a thin nightgown, with your heart racing with anticipation within your chest. while admiring his sleeping face, you were filled with a longing for him, finding yourself praying that he would somehow return your feelings and take you in his arms all while admitting that he never wished to let you go.

when your hands reached out to him was when he began mumbling in his sleep, stating the syllables that made up a name that had your heart cease its beats almost immediately.

a name that wasn't your name-

"lorelai..."

you felt like you couldn't breathe, hearing his deep voice becoming so filled with yearning for that woman that it made you sick to your stomach. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and you quickly turned away from him all while biting down against your fist.

lorelailorelailorelailorelailorelai! it was always her!

the woman with the smooth, pale skin and alluring gaze; her doe eyes and perfect hair managing to captivate sylus within mere minutes of him meeting her. your heart was utterly destroyed along with your confidence and love for him.

after everything you had done for him, he still refused to give you his heart-

yet it was stolen so freely by that perfect woman... lorelai-

you didn't think you could forget the way sylus spoke her name, filled with such reverence that it made you feel dizzy with envy.

spending several days avoiding sylus, doing your best to cut him out of your life. you wanted to skip any confrontations, not wishing to even admit the truth about your feelings when it came to him-

but as always, you were foolish into thinking that sylus would ever give you an easy way out.

you had been taking your usual trek home, ready to enter your apartment complex when a flurry of black feathers begin marring your vision, making you stop dead in your tracks when the onychinus leader appears before you. his large hands grips at your wrists almost painfully, making you cry out.

but perhaps more so than the pain was the fact that he treated you roughly, clearly not caring about your own well-being whereas he treated lorelai like she was made of porcelain.

"where the hell have you been?" annoyance twists sylus's features, morphing it into an expression of absolute disdain for you. "i've spent weeks trying to get in contact with you, and it turns out you've had me blocked this entire time?"

anger surges through you, and you use that sole emotion to fuel you when you manage to shove sylus away from you. his eyes go wide, taking a few steps back while giving you an incredulous expression. strengthening your resolve, you meet his gaze and give him the iciest glare that you could manage.

"we need to stop this charade, sylus. i can't go on working for you, not when you make it so damn obvious that i was never the one for you."

a flash of emotion was seen within his crimson gaze before quickly disappearing. his jaw seems to tighten in response to the way he was now gritting his teeth, "what are you talking about?"

you sharply inhale, finally spilling your darkest secret to him, "i love you, but you don't give a damn about me- not like you do with her."

surprise flashes across his features, and he takes an unsteady step towards you, "you... what?"

shaking your head, you angrily wipe away your tears, "i love you, that's why i can't be with you anymore. everything i've done, i've done for you, to make you fucking happy- to make you acknowledge me."

with your head held high, you meet his gaze and tell him (all while managing to keep your voice even), "if you want me to come back to you, then you need to make a choice. knowing how i feel about you, how i've always felt about you, you need to choose-

if you want me to come back, it's me. but if you choose her, then i'll be forever gone from your life."

sylus looks away from you, remaining silent for just a few seconds before his body began to shake, his laughter seeming to pierce through your heart, "you have no idea how long i have yearned for her... so to have lorelai so much closer to me than ever before, it's clear that i would accept any losses, including you."

the devastation you felt in that very moment was almost too much to bear, with you quickly running away from him. the tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, and every memory you shared with him continues to play within your mind.

your love-

the sacrifices you had made for him-

it had been all for naught.

when you were hired to work as one of the general surgeons as akso hospital, you felt as though you had hit the jackpot, landing a job at such a prestigious hospital in the heart of linkon. feeling happy at being able to further your career, you didn't think that anything could possibly distract you.

that is... until dr. zayne came into the picture.

you had heard about his achievements in the medical field, and you held a great deal of respect for him. becoming a cardiac surgeon of his caliber was no easy feat, and the fact that someone so young could accomplish it was commendable to you.

in fact, you were eager to start your work life with dr. zayne-

however, what you didn't expect was to fall so deeply in love with him at first sight. his bright eyes and the way his tiny smiles would constantly invade your mind was taking its toll on you. each time you would think about him, daydreaming of scenarios with your beloved doctor, your coworkers could see your lovestruck expression and take note of how your cheeks would suddenly go warm at the sight of zayne.

you were just so enamored with him that you gathered your courage and asked him out, first. after all, there was no penalties for developing a relationship between coworkers as long as both parties kept it professional while on the clock.

the memory of you confessing to zayne became a fond one. you had heard from yvonne that his favorite food were macaroons, and you figured that you had a better chance of winning his heart by gifting him his favorite food. so, with the box of colorful cookies in hand, you step into zayne's office and offered the gift to him all while confessing your feelings for him.

"zayne, i apologize if you find this... unprofessional, but i can't hide my feelings for you any longer. i... i truly like you so much, so please, will you give me a chance and go out with me?"

you watch as his eyes grow wider, an embarrassed expression taking over his expression as he hides his lips from you with the palm of his hand. he seems to be deep in thought, and after much deliberation, he accepts your confession and agrees to date you.

for the first couple of weeks, you were on cloud 9. zayne was nothing short of being the perfect boyfriend, taking you out on weekend dates at the end of your long shifts while giving you special trinkets here and there.

but there was one glaring issue-

zayne never once kissed you.

sure, he gave you gentle hugs here and there, yet each time you would lean up to try and kiss him, zayne would inevitably look away from you, saying that he was tired or how it wasn't the right moment to kiss.

despite how he never once complained or said a word to you, his lack of affection-

or rather, the lack of him reciprocating your affections, was taking its toll on you.

and you couldn't figure out the reasoning behind his distance until much later.

you had just come out of surgery, and as you stepped out into the lobby, you saw something that made you freeze, unable to move or say a single word.

standing a mere few feet away from you was zayne, and he was smiling at a petite woman. never before had you seen zayne appearing so soft before. the woman seemed to be chattering on about something to zayne, and your boyfriend did nothing but smile at everything she said-

as if he were hanging on to her every word.

feeling the pinpricks of jealousy beginning to surface, you march towards zayne and take a hold of his hand, doing your best to maintain a casual air as you cling to zayne and smile at the other woman. "zayne, i was looking everywhere for you!"

your laughter was strained as you eyed the woman, feeling the envious feelings begin to rise upon seeing how... perfect she looked. with kind eyes and full, rosy lips tilted up in a smile, she greets you. "hello, you must be zaynie's girlfriend! my name is ashley, and zayne's been my friend since we were little kids! he talks a lot about you, and i'm happy he's met someone so wonderful."

from your periphery, you could see the way zayne winces upon hearing ashley's words. it was clear that her calling zayne as simply her friend was enough to earn a wounded expression from him-

and that was the moment your epiphany came.

there was a reason why zayne never kissed you; why he never went beyond hugging you while taking you on simple dates-

it's because his heart had never been yours to begin with-

it belonged to her.

the blood had already rushed to your ears, blocking out whatever ashley had said before she excuses herself, leaving the hospital lobby. in your daze, you look down to see zayne clutching on to something tightly, realizing that ashley had made lunch for him.

feeling your throat go dry, you manage to tell him, "we need to talk."

zayne gives you a stiff nod, following you towards the upper floors and into his office with almost robotic movements. upon reaching the privacy of his office, you close the door, watching as zayne gingerly places the container filled with ashley's homemade lunch on his desk.

"who is she?"

zayne doesn't meet your gaze, simply staring out the window, answering your question softly, "it's like she said, she's a childhood friend."

"...a childhood friend that you love."

your heart was felt shattering all over again when zayne stiffens momentarily before visibly relaxing, as if feeling some type of relief-

like he didn't need to lie to himself or hide it anymore.

you thought hearing him confirm your suspicions would be the end of your heartache, but it was so much worse when he admits to you, "ashley is the reason why i worked so hard to become a cardiac surgeon. she... she has a heart defect, and i wish to save her life... to keep her alive and live a happy, fulfilling life."

his admission has left you reeling in response, the pain becoming so palatable that you could feel your heart begin shattering into a million pieces. "if you love her so much, why aren't you with her?" you ask him, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

zayne simply shakes his head in response, "she doesn't feel the same way for me... and truth be told... she deserves better than me. even though i've loved her through every timeline and universe, i-"

your heart couldn't take zayne's pain any longer, the hurt you once felt for him quickly becoming overshadowed by the unconditional love you still felt for him. taking him within your embrace, you feel the way he trembles against you, clinging to you as soft sobs were wracked through him.

and when he finally lifts up your chin, meeting your gaze while sayig your name with a broken gasp, he finally kisses you-

the taste of your first and last kiss with him was salty with his tears, yet you were too far gone to realize that this single kiss of desperation was made in response to his own lingering emotions for ashley-

never for you.

"there's a new girl that's going to be my partner at the association... and i'm in charge of looking out for her."

xavier tells you as you prepared dinner for the night. you frown at this information, but thought nothing of it. after all, he was skilled at his job as a hunter, often receiving praise for his strength when it came to dealing with the wanderers that roam the world.

"that's fine, i know what your work entails, xavier. you're a hunter, and if there's a newbie you need to train, then that's the end of it." you tell him with a hum, your back now facing him as you focused on cooking once more, missing the relieved expression on his face.

you serve dinner and ask him about his day, only to receive one word answers in response. this also seemed a bit strange for you, since xavier never really shied away when it came to telling you about his day and how he felt.

you had both been dating to close to a year now, with you growing closer after becoming friends. you realized that you both shared similar interests and just... naturally progressed your relationship into something a bit more romantic. at the 6 month mark of your newly developed relationship, you decided to move in together with him.

it was true that you dated and had a few other boyfriends before, yet none of them were quite as serious as your relationship with xavier. despite never once saying the l word to each other, deep down, you knew that you were falling for xavier. in fact, with the sheer amount of times you had gushed to your family and friends about how much you adored him, they were confident that you would get engaged the moment your one year anniversary hit.

with the date quickly approaching in just a few weeks, you began to paint your daydreams, thinking of different ways xavier would propose to you while giggling like a little girl. you had always dreamt of having the perfect proposal, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of what was to come.

after serving dinner, you sit across from xavier, taking a few bites here and there all while sneaking glances at him. you couldn't stop grinning at him, which makes xavier raise his eyebrows at you in suspicion.

"what? do i have sauce on my face?"

you snort and quickly shake your head, reassuring him that you were simply caught up in your reveries. xavier doesn't bring up the subject any longer, simply returning to his meal.

later that night, as you both got ready for bed, you were dressed comfortably in your favorite pajamas all while anticipating xavier's return to you. after his usual shower, he comes out of the bathroom with a plush towel wrapped around his head. tossing the damp towel into the hamper, he gets into bed, with you expecting your boyfriend to face you while taking you in his arms.

but when he gets into bed with his back turned towards you, you had to fight back the strange pang felt within your chest. your mouth kept opening and closing, asking him if he was okay-

"sorry, i'm just a bit exhausted. let's just sleep..."

ignoring the way your throat seemed to clench in response, you give him a stiff nod, only to realize that he couldn't see you. "r-right... i understand, you're tired, that's all."

the tears were felt brimming against your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, falling into bed while clenching your eyes shut. you tried to ignore the lingering suspicions, distracting yourself by counting sheep until you could fall into a restless slumber all while trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay...

{ ... }

the weeks leading up to your first anniversary with xavier was strained, to say the least.

for starters, he seemed to be taking on more missions than usual, all while telling you that teresa was still new and needed someone with experience like him on these higher level missions.

at first, his reasonings didn't bother you or raise any alarm, and you simply allowed him to work with teresa because it was his job and that woman was his partner. you couldn't let your insecure thoughts put a damper on his job.

even when you saw him less and less-

your love never once wavered for him.

on the day of your one year anniversary, you decided to surprise him at work instead. surely, he would have completed his mission sometime during the late afternoon, and you were certain that he would appreciate your kindness.

with his favorite takeout in hand, you walk into the hunter association building, weaving your way through the area. it takes you a few minutes to locate him, but when you went down to the lower levels and could see his familiar, blond hair, you quicken your pace, his name already on the tip of your tongue when you freeze in your steps.

"i thought i had lost you!" xavier's voice was heard cracking as he wrapped his arms around another woman, seeming to crush her slender frame against his chest. your heart begins to ache at the sight, making your labored breathing feel even more painful as you struggled to remain calm and not hyperventilate.

but, it was clear that such a heartbreak would not break even when he opens his eyes and sees your trembling form staring blankly at him. even after seeing you, xavier does not move away from the woman, seeming to hold her even closer to him as he shakes his head at you.

while meeting your gaze, he mouths a few words, and you could read his lips while taking in those harsh syllables. you drop the bag of takeout, your choked sob echoing throughout the area as you ran out of the building.

your sobs coupled along with your gasps for air were making a scene, with some of the civilians looking at you with bewildered expressions. yet you stopped caring, allowing your mind to piece together what had always been in front of you ever since teresa had come into his life.

xavier distancing himself from you-

xavier suddenly filled with the desire to protect teresa, a woman he had just met-

the way he held her so tightly at the memory of nearly losing her-

a sudden cry of your name stops you from taking another step, your stupid heart suddenly filling with hope when you hear xavier's voice and his rapidly approaching footsteps.

you hear him stop a few feet away from you, his voice strained once he begins speaking once more. "i... i'm so sorry, i didn't want you to find out like this, but you have to know the truth."

it takes you a herculean effort to fight back your tears, but you knew you had to hold it together and allow xavier to finally explain himself. "i do care about you... but... fuck, the moment i saw her, everything else just melted away. all of my life, my entire existence, was simply waiting for her to come back to me. i've waited so long for her... and what i feel for her... it's like... like gravity isn't what's keeping me grounded, but she is."

you had no idea what kept you rooted on the spot, knowing that both your heart and mind were screaming at you to move away. but, you couldn't find the strength to do so. instead, you had to listen to his words once more, the same ones he had mouthed to you earlier-

"i'm sorry, but i love her..."

when the beautiful and charming rafayel confessed to you, you accepted his feelings and simply wished to date him just to have fun. despite his occupation as an artist, rafayel was so full of life- so full of light that you couldn't stop yourself from basking in his brilliance.

during the first few weeks of your relationship, your rafe was achingly sweet and cute, often giving you sketches he made of you when he drew your portraits on a whim. he liked calling you his muse before pressing audible kisses against your features, earning a series of joyous laughter from you. because of how much you adored rafayel, you often liked to spend the night at his place, where you would both order your favorite seafood and simply watch cheesy rom-coms together.

as time went on, you began to realize that you were falling hard for the young artist, with him being constantly on your mind even when you were at work. and just when you thought you couldn't love him anymore than you already did, he surprises you by gifting you a gorgeously crafted bracelet that had cute little seashells along with aquamarine gemstones.

altogether, your relationship was achingly perfect with rafayel, with you being certain that he would become your endgame. truly, there were times where you felt like your relationship with rafayel was too good to be true-

yet sadly, you would learn the harsh reality when it came to his feelings for you, realizing that the love rafayel had given you had been his own way of coping.

when it was nearing your 8 month mark of being together with him, rafayel suddenly became distant with you, often locking himself within his studio as he seemed to produce copious amounts of artworks. of course, when you tried to see his new paintings and sculptures, rafayel would hide them all away from you, covering them all with a thick sheet while distracting you with a date.

this behavior was strange, but you thought nothing of it. perhaps he was nervous about an upcoming art exhibit, and he didn't wish to reveal anything until the day of his exhibition came.

so, you went along with it, making up excuses each time rafayel would stiffen when you hugged him, or suddenly turned his head away from you each time you tried to kiss him.

but perhaps what hurt the most was the day you found out the reasoning behind his growing distance. rafayel told you he needed to take a break from making art and invited you over to enjoy the evening with him. you arrive an hour earlier (unable to contain your excitement at finally spending some time with him), and caught him with streaks of paint decorating his outfit.

he mentions how early you are, yet still allows you inside, telling you to make yourself at home while he takes a quick shower. as you rest against his kitchen counter, you hear the shower go off and smile. a few minutes pass, and you felt the palm of your hands begin to itch with a sudden sensation.

biting down at your bottom lip, you look towards the area where rafayel keeps all of his artwork. you were filled with curiosity, wondering what he was working on that made it such a touchy subject for rafe each time you asked about it.

you close your eyes, still hearing rafayel in the shower when you decided to push yourself away from the counter. "i'll just take a quick peek, then put the sheets back in place. he won't even notice."

stepping into his gallery room, you turn on all the lights, coming closer to the sheet as you gripped at the corner of it before pulling it away-

only to reveal a gorgeous carving that depicted a mermaid. she was by far the loveliest creature you had ever seen, with her soft features carved with a gentle smile as she held a pearl within her slender hands. from the amount of care rafayel had put into making her, it was clear that this sculpture was made with love.

there was just one problem-

the mermaid looked nothing like you.

your throat was felt painfully clenching at the sudden realization, but you brushed it off as mere paranoia. surely, there was some other art piece that held your likeness. as you trail your eyes towards a canvas now, you felt your heart sink even further.

it was the same woman; her features matches that of the mermaid sculpture, but this time, you could see the colors. her cheeks were painted in a rosy hue, with each paint stroke seeming to accentuate the soft beauty the woman displayed. around her neck was an aquamarine pendant in the shape of a banded tulip seashell. trailing your eyes further downwards towards the frame, you felt your heart clench upon seeing the title of his painting:

melody, my beloved queen

your mind was racing now, and the sheer intensity of the hurt and envy you felt renders you incapable of taking another step. you were so caught up in your reveries that you didn't even realize that rafayel had come out of the showers until he places the sheets over his works once more.

"you- you weren't supposed to see that."

slowly, you turn around to face him, and his guilty expression was more than enough proof, confirming your suspicions that the woman he kept painting and sculpting- this melody-

he loved her.

"why did you even approach me when your heart was never mine to begin with?"

you were proud at how even your voice came out, and when rafayel tried to stutter out some excuse, you immediately cut him off.

"no more bullshit lies, rafayel. tell me."

the artist lets out a string of curses, running a hand through his damp hair. unable to meet your gaze out of shame, he sighs before admitting, "it's because she doesn't remember me... even after meeting her, she only sees me as a friend. she... doesn't remember me."

your throat was burning now, and you could feel the tears streaming down your face, "then why waste your time with me?"

rafayel meets your gaze, a pained expression painting his features. yet his next words succeeds in absolutely devastating you:

"i used you as a means to try and forget her."

the agony you felt was indescribable, with you immediately turning away from rafayel. the sting of his betrayal was felt coursing through your very veins when you rushed out of his home and into the cold, night air.

you wanted to grip at your hair and scream at the top of your lungs-

you wanted to claw at the sidewalk, making sure that your nails bled with each scrape against the concrete-

but perhaps most of all, you wanted to rip your heart out for still loving rafayel despite it all-

even when you were no longer his muse.

[ all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!! ]

[writing-mlm]

Hiii, can we please have more college!damian x male reader? Like a scenario where damian loves to draw reader but reader doesn't know this? Maybe friends to lovers? Idk your pick. The artist and his muse type of thing. Also, i LIVE for soft damian on this blog ong.

Forever my Muse

Summary: Damian has his finals coming up and he wants you to join-- at least that's his excuse to get you into the art venue. An artist needs their muse and for some reason, most of Damian's drawings include you in, naturally, he could fill museums with drawings of you. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.8k

Dust-covered fingers were always something you had associated with Damian. Graphite, charcoal, pastels— anything he used to draw or even paint would inevitably stain his hands. It wasn’t intentional, and neither were the fingerprints he left on your stuff, or the paint you could never remove from your favorite sweater, but that didn’t stop him from apologizing. From buying you cleaning products and a new sweater; never mind it has never been worn in the year you’ve had it, Damian felt terribly sorry whenever he felt he’d stained something of yours. 

But never sorry enough to show you his drawings. 

You’d ask, you’d beg, but he would never give in. He’d show you when he was done, sure. You’d see the finished still-life drawings of whatever object had been in the line of sight, the paintings he’d done of his pets whenever he missed them, and the random sketches he did to loosen his wrist. But, damn, sometimes you wanted to see an unfinished drawing that wasn’t a warm-up. 

Even now, as the two of you are on the campus bus heading towards the music hall, he’s drawing. Sitting across from you on the bus, Damian easily adjusts himself to the movements of the bus as it jerks to a stop. He’s nice like that, you’ve never caught him off guard, he’s never fallen or stumbled in the time you’ve known him. 

Studying him, you wonder if he’s naturally so agile. You’ve seen him in your dorm's gym, during all-nighters you can sometimes see him running around campus, and once you had caught him doing one of those athletic challenges for some guy's video. He won. Of course. 

The bus comes to a complete stop and you look away, double-checking that it wasn’t your stop. It wasn’t. You knew that. But still. The need to check was far too great and you slipped back into a conversation with Damian. Only this time, you’re looking down at your phone to double-check the event and his eyes switch from staring at his sketch to staring at you. 

His eyes flicker between you and his drawing, erasing and adding lines where needed. He catches your eyes traveling up and he looks back down, working from memory as you start up a new conversation. 

Eventually, the bus reaches your stop and he carefully closes his book; he always worries he’d smudge his art, while he follows you out of the bus. 

It’s the end of the semester, ergo, it’s finals week. And for one of your music finals, everyone was to prepare a song and perform it. Truthfully, Damian doesn’t understand why you’d picked him to accompany you. He knows he’s not the best comfort, his demeanor often being the reason people don’t stick around too long. 

But, you reassured him. Telling him that his presence was more than enough for you. Knowing that he was somewhere in the crowd calms you down more than you ever cared to admit. 

The walk to the music hall isn’t short, but you can see the large building in the distance. The size is daunting on you as you see the crowd forming at the entrance. People aren’t allowed inside yet, but performers and their guests can head inside before anyone else. 

“I’m nervous,” You admit, wiping your hands on your shirt. “What if I fail?” You mutter, your eyes desperately searching to find solace in his green eyes. 

“You’ll do as you’ve always done,” He nods, looking ahead as you approach the building. “Exceptionally.” His sketchbook bumps against your folder of sheet music and you sigh through your nose, trying to calm down. 

“I’m so gonna choke,” Seeing your reflection in the glass, you feel as if you’d forgotten everything you learned. Every lesson, every mistake you fixed and learned from, the late-night practice performances with your friends. The song you’d composed nearly slips from your mind as you see yourself, walking in that suit and tie you’d worn several years ago. All of it left your mind and you felt like a beginner again. What even was a solfège?

“I'm trained in CPR.” He opens the door for you and gently encourages you inside, his fingers grazing your back. “You weren’t nearly as nervous for your accounting finals.” He notes, falling back into step with you. 

That’s another thing. Maybe that’s why you were so stressed. Double majoring was hellish. Twice the finals, quadruple the headaches. 

“Those were tests,” You scowl, showing the security your campus ID. “I’m going to be performing a live concert in front of nearly a thousand people. I cannot fuck this up, Damian. This is going to be posted for everyone to watch, too,” You ramble on. 

“Which you’ve done before, no?” He presses the elevator button and your heart hammers. You swear you’re going to pass out. He notices, of course, he does, and digs in his bag to find the fidget cube he keeps in there. 

“I have— thank you,” Taking the cube, he nods. “It’s just… I don’t know. Tests suck.” Rolling your thumb along the metal ball on one side of the cube, you stare at the numbers as they slowly tick down to the first floor. 

“That’s true,” He steps inside the elevator and you follow suit. “But you’ve made it thus far, you can go further.” He squeezes your shoulder as the doors close. There’s a silence in the elevator as it goes up to the second floor where you see your teacher waiting at the door to the waiting room, talking to a pair of students. 

“I can,” You affirm, dipping your head down as you smile. 

“You will.” 

—

You’re fifth in line to perform, watching a singer, dancer, another other pianist, and an opera singer go on before you go on did absolutely jack shit to help you. As you’re announced, you step onto the stage and try your best not to accept that there were thousands of eyes on you. Instead, you smile and wave as you walk across that large stage. Desperately looking for Damian in the sea of people. 

He’s in the front, right in front of where you could see when you glance up from the piano, you find out as you’re standing next to the piano seat. 

Damian’s eyes don’t leave yours, making eye contact with you as you fiddle with the buttons of your coat. He motions for you to stop and then does a breathe in breathe out motion with the same hand. Nodding, you blink away from him and hold your hands behind your back. Focusing on your breathing, you listen to the teacher as you’re done being introduced. 

The applause settles as you bow in, take a seat, and flip the page where your music sheet is. Slowly, you start. As a general music major, you weren’t restricted to just playing the piano. As emphasized by the microphone taped to your cheek. 

You aren’t the strongest singer by any means, you’re good for singing in the shower or on drives but you doubt you’d actually make a career off of your voice. What you hope will carry you is the piano, as you press each key your eyes flicker to Damian. He’s attentive, a smile on his face as you perform. 

Testing the waters, you glance at the people around him and they seem… pleased. Happy. Moved, even. You grin and return to staring at the sheet music. All of the notes flood back to you as you reach the last bit of the song, your eyes closing as your voice reaches a peak, holding a note. Then it’s just the piano, your voice echoing in everyone’s mind as the notes get slower and slower until you end it. 

Applause fills the hall and you stand up, taking a bow. Standing there, even if only for a moment, you can’t imagine why you’d been so nervous.

Collecting your sheet music, you exit the stage and hand the mic to the stage tech before leaving. 

When you’re nearing the exit, you spot Damian holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“When did you have the time to get these?” You laugh as he hands them to you. His eyes merely twinkle, refusing to give up one of his many secrets. “Thank you, they’re dope.” 

“You did it,” Damian reminds you as the two of you exit the building. 

“I did! Ugh!” Grabbing his shoulder with your free hand, you give him a little shake. “Thank you so much, you’re honestly the best. Was it good?” Falling into step with him, Damian doesn’t bother to fix his shirt. It’s hardly even moved, but you know he was detail-oriented in stuff like that. Hell, he hates it when he messes with his clothes. 

“It was mesmerizing.” He promises. “I do believe the woman behind me was crying.” Grinning, you stand at the bus stop, suddenly buzzing with excitement. Wanting to do it again, you start to imagine creating your own side business. Wedding musician, you can see it now. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” He avoids looking at you as he’s speaking. A rare occurrence on his part. But he does his best to look at you after building the courage. “I have an art showing next week. I understand the notice is short and you’re—“

“Send me the details.” You grin. His shoulders drop and he nods, clearly more relaxed. “I hope the attire is fancy. I got this fancy turtleneck I’ve been wanting to wear and slacks from my high school graduation just waiting to be worn!” 

—

With all of your finals out of the way, you finally had time to start removing the items from your dorm. One by one you removed posters and trinkets scattered across your end of the room. Pack your clothes into boxes, and save for enough outfits to get you through your two weeks left on campus. 

Damian was held up from finishing his art showing, unable to see you in person but he was more than happy with a Facetime call. With both your laptops placed in a space away from disturbing you, the two of you worked on your tasks. 

“I do need to be at the showing two hours early,” He tells you as you’re dragging the anti-suicide chairs to the closet, trying to see the top shelf. “But I’ll have arrangements to bring you to the venue.” 

“And my outfit is okay?” You ask, the chair wobbling as you stand on it. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But hey, you’re not the one who installed a closet tall enough that only Shaq could see the top. “Because I can always swap out the turtle neck for a green button down— the silk one that Maddison made,” Always gave a fashion designer friend. She had used you as a model for of her projects a couple of months ago and with your measurements being unique to you, let you have it after she’d gotten her grade. 

“The button-down would be better suited,” He nods, leaning close to his painting before adding a tiny stroke. “The turtleneck is a little… on the nose.” Leaning back, he checks his reference picture before frowning. It goes away quickly as he picks up a bit of white and dabs it onto a dry brush. 

“I was afraid it was,” You laugh, grabbing a first aid kit from the shelf. Listening to him lightly brush the paint over the canvas, you toss the kit onto the bed and grab what little items are scattered up there. “Holy shit! Do you remember when that frat dude lost his frat ring?” 

“Unfortunately,” Damian glances at his screen, watching as you haphazardly get down from the chair. Nearly tripping, he wonders how you've made it this far in life without breaking a bone. 

“I think I did take it! Look!” Showing the screen, Damian looks almost impressed as you hold up a fraternity ring. It’s a shiny gold, likely fake but engraved with the initials of the Frat house. The two of you remember the guy had been going around to every single campus building with a missing ring poster. 

“What a thief,” He chides, setting his brush down and taking a physical step back from the painting. Harsh glares scan over brush strokes, ripping apart his painting bit by bit before he nods to himself. His glare morphs into a soft sort of gaze and he signs the back of it. 

“Is that your final painting for the semester?” You ask, the ring forgotten about as it’s tossed in a box of trinkets and you’ve moved on to ordering food. Probably Panda Express. Or maybe Chipotle…. really it’s whatever is closer and cheaper. 

“Hopefully,” He sighs through his nose, his paint box clicking shut. “I’ve been drawing and painting these past couple of days. My canvases take up an entire section of the art studio. I’m sure my professor cannot wait for them to dry and get glossed. Which I should probably start doing.” 

“How does that taste?” Setting your phone down, Damian’s face goes sour as he looks at you. “Personally, I think the gloss would taste tarty.” You add. “Or maybe like the frosting for Toaster Strudel.” Picking your phone back up, you continue your order. 

“Neither is correct.” He blinks. “It’s a toxin and filled with chemicals, it most likely tastes as good as acetone does, Hab—“ He pauses, and you look at him wondering what the issue is. “Habits of tasting chemicals shouldn’t be one you pick up.” He finishes his sentence with a bit of force. 

“I just love chemicals. Violin resin is my favorite.” Making a chomping noise Damian huffs. As you’re finishing up your order, you look at him. He’s halfway across campus and judging by the rack of canvases he wheeled over, he won’t be back until well into the night. Eh, it doesn’t hurt to ask. “I’m ordering some food, do you want something?” 

“No, thank you, though.” He shakes his head. “I have food from the court in case I get hungry.” He quickly adds. Humming, you place the order and scan over your room. The only things that need to get packed are things you’re still using. Now it’s just a matter of organizing the boxes and bins so you can still move around your room. 

“After the glossing, what’re you doing?”

“I have to write short summaries for each painting. No less than one hundred words,” He explains as he’s putting on a pair of latex gloves. 

“So, a breeze?” He laughs and nods. 

“I’m afraid I’ll go over the word limit,” He admits, sparing you a glance as you’re lugging a box to a corner of your room. “My paintings harbor a lot of my emotions and they’re far from short.”

“Real as fuck.”

— 

On the day of his art exhibition, you spend extra time in the bathroom. Making sure your hair is neat, and presentable, fixing your outfit, making sure you don’t stink. Anything and everything you could check over, you did. 

This nervous feeling was different from your pre-show nerves. Especially since you don’t even know why you’re nervous. Probably because you’d never actually gotten to see his paintings, at least the ones he was showing. He’d been ultra allusive about those, citing the exhibition would be the best place to view them. But even he was nervous and that’s a lot considering he’s Damian fucking Wayne. 

He texted you two minutes ago saying that the car was going to arrive within the next ten minutes and you rushed out to the front of the dorms. No need to lock the door behind you, since your roommate was busy sleeping and would stay in there until you came back. Plucking at your shirt, you watch a sleek black car pull up in front of you, and Damian texts you that the car is there. 

The ride is long, far too long for your liking anyway. But considering it’s in the middle of the city, it’s not unwarranted. 

The art… museum? What should you call it? The space where the exhibition was being held was a well-known art gallery— that’s the word! The gallery was well respected, talked about within art circles, and incredibly high-brow. Thank fuck you didn’t go with that turtleneck. 

There’s a woman in front of the gallery, greeting everyone who enters. She sees you and there’s a flash of recognition across her face. 

“It’s great to finally meet Damian’s muse,” She smiles as she shakes your hand. 

“His what?” You ask but Damian pulls you inside. 

“How was the ride?” He asks, his eyes darting between his professor and you. 

“Good but what did she mean?” You ask, looking around to see the other people around. Like your performance, it was open to the public and with Bruce Wayne’s son being in attendance, many people had showed up. Including his family. “Bruce Wayne is here?” Your head whips to Damian as you spot him in the crowd. 

“He is my father…” He trails. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Fuck no!” You gasp. “The knowledge of his wealth is burying me as we speak— but this is about you,” Turning to him, you smile. “Where’s your paintings? Those don’t look like your style,” Eyes flicker across the paintings and you can’t see Damian’s strokes, his colors or his lighting in any of them. A sort of pride swells within him, knowing that you’ve looked— studied his art enough to know that the ones around you weren’t his. 

“It has its own section,” He tells you, guiding you through groups of people and halls. “It’s going to be revealed in around half an hour. My professor insisted,” He stops at a section of the gallery covered by a curtain and two security guards. You never knew it was that serious, but damn. 

“Mr Fancy. Why don’t you catch up with your family? I’ll look around?” In truth, you were going to the nearest bathroom and making sure you didn't look stupid. 

“I’m more than certain they’d be more pleased if you accompanied me.” He shakes his head as you raise your eyebrows. “If that’s something you’d be comfortable with, of course.” 

“Sure,” Once more, he guides you past people until he spots his father and brother talking in a corner. 

“Father, Richard.” He calls as the two of you approach. “This is (Y/n).” Richard’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile, the smile only furthered curbed by his brother's glare. 

“Hello,” Waving at the two men, they reach to shake your hand instead. Bruce has a firm grip, probably tighter than it really needed to be but Richard is more than welcoming. He’s more than excited to meet you, although you can’t imagine why. 

“My other siblings are still in Gotham,” Damian explains, physically taking Dick’s hand from yours with a pointed look. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t bring Cassandra, father.”

“She’s here,” He shakes his head, glancing around for the mop of black hair. “In the bathroom, probably.” 

“Is that her?” You ask, looking at the woman in the corner. She’s standing there, downing a glass of champagne before returning to a conversation with a man. She looks like how Damian had described her, although he downplayed how intimidating she seemed. 

“Oh boy,” Dick huffs. “Let me go help her,” Excusing himself, you’re left with Damian and his father. The two of them talking with their eyes. 

“So, Damian’s told me you’re a double major,” Bruce breaks the silence and their weird eye conversation. He talks about you? Glancing at Damian, he’s making a point to look anywhere but you. That’s sorta cute— totally not in a romantic way, totally. 

“I am,” You nod, wishing a man with drinks would walk past you. “Accounting and a performing arts major.” He hums and there’s another beat of awkward silence. 

“From what he tells me, you’re excelling at both. That’s incredibly hard. Do you have any job prospects lined up for when you graduate?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“Not yet,” You admit, picking at your hands. “Since I'm not sure where I’d like to settle after I graduate it’s difficult finding places.” Bruce nods, quickly making sure Dick and Cassandra are okay. 

“Well, if your grades continue to stay or improve, Wayne Enterprises is always looking for accountants, especially one so esteemed.” He smiles at you, that sort of small smile that makes you feel more relaxed in his presence. A fatherly smile. 

“Yeah, praise from Damian is a lot.” Dick grins, leaning his weight on his younger brother. Cassandra agrees, leaning against the wall Bruce was standing in front of. “And he talks about you a ton!” 

“That’s enough.” Damian huffs, pushing himself away from Dick who frowns. “Let’s look at some of the artwork,” 

“You talk to your family about me?” You grin as he’s hauling you away from his family. He looks at you, clearly licking the inside of his mouth before he blinks and gives one strong nod. 

“Of course I do, it would be a shame to hide someone so talented.” He explains and then looks forward, his eyes swimming across the faces around him. “I do believe in your talents and my father is someone who can help them flourish; it would seem awfully cruel if I didn’t at least try.” You go to speak; to thank him but his attention is pulled away by the director of the show. 

“It’s time!” She gleams, ushering the two of you after her. 

There are already people gathered in front of his top secret exhibit, cameras and people wearing PRESS lanyards like the front and sides. Much like a moth drawn to a flame, they find Damian walking and try to hound him, only to be stopped by his family. They’re far more intimidating now but Damian pulls your attention from them and towards him. 

The two of you are in front of the whole crowd, the two guards holding one piece of the curtain and waiting for a cue to open them. 

“We welcome everyone to Damian Wayne’s very first art show,” The director says, her hand ghosting over his shoulder. He takes that as a sign to step forward, barely leaving your side as he explains his art. 

“Through My Eyes is a collection of various pieces I’ve created over the course of two years,” He explains. “The music that accompanies the art are pieces composed by my muse.” His eyes find yours as the curtains are pulled aside and for the first time, you notice the way he looks at you. The way his eyes never seem to want to leave yours, how he takes you in the same way he takes in the art around him. 

Then you hear it. More specifically you hear yourself. 

You hear the piece you’d played during your final, hearing your voice fill the spaces where people aren’t talking. Each key, and each note floods your ears as you turn to see his art. 

It’s you.

All of it. Each painting, each frame has something of you in it. 

“Holy shit.” You breathe, moving to the closest one. It’s a painting of you, wearing clothes you’d only seen in shows like Merlin, holding onto a statue of an angel. It’s almost impossible to not know where the inspiration had come from. After convincing Damian to go exploring with you and some friends, you’d come across a newly abandoned church with a large angel statue. On a dare, you pretended to dance with it. 

Sure, you’d seen the picture before but it was nothing compared to the painting. It looked amazing, you had never looked better. Your features were captured in the best way possible, you’d been posed in a way that made it seem as if you were guiding the angel in a dance. 

The description catches your eye next. 

One Last Dance wasn’t the first drawing of Muse, but it was the first drawing of him that I truly loved. He’d resparked a passion for painting for me. The painting had been on my mind for two weeks before I finally started to work on it, having it become my only focus for the two days that I worked on it became the norm for the next two years of my life. 

Muse doesn’t personally care for the Renaissance era, but it seemed fitting for such a painting. The feeling of dressing Muse in modern clothes didn’t ruin the drawing but it didn’t make sense, in my head their dance is accompanied by the sounds of the wings and their feet gliding across the floor. Just outside is probably a mob, unbelievable of a true angel. Muse would probably say that he was dancing to the sounds of Sleep Token and outside was a bunch of ‘angel fuckers’, but who knows. 

D.W

The next painting was smaller than the first, but it’s a close-up of your face. Your eyes are wide and you’re desperately pulling at your eyelids as a light twinkles inside of it. 

Blinding Gaze came about when Muse had gone to the eye doctor, fearing he was going blind. Turns out he was just extremely stressed to the point of temporary blindness. When we spoke about it, he joked that he was developing powers from that time he drank a sports drink mixed with a crushed-up Tylenol and he could shoot lasers from his eyes. While Blinding Gaze doesn’t follow his original plan of lasers, I imagine developing eye lights could be frightening. 

Blinding Gaze isn’t body horror, although I had intended it to be but I couldn’t bring myself to put Muse into that position. Even if it was completely fake. I did eventually remake the painting how I truly envisioned it, but I still prefer my Muse to the remake. 

Drifting to the next painting, you see yourself, dressed in your favorite smudged hoodie, dancing amongst the crowd. The people are drowned out in the colors of the background, nearly blending in meanwhile you’re ever so present. The light shone down on you in a way that made you seem like the main character in some movie, all eyes meant to be on you. 

A Night To Remember was undoubtedly one of the best moments of college thus far. Muse had been invited to a friend's party and insisted I come instead of remaining in the art room, drowning myself in oils and pastels. Although I’ve put his words in a more friendly manner. I hadn’t wanted to go, the noises and being pressed against unfamiliar faces was hardly something I ever enjoyed. But for Muse, I’d do anything he’d asked of me. 

Glued to him for the night, I found myself unreasonably drawn to him. I do not remember the song, in truth, I don’t remember much from that night aside from him. The way he danced, how he looked at me. How he looked in the room. I resented not bringing my sketchbook, but I would’ve been more out of place than I originally had been. 

Smoothening your shirt, you take a nervous glance around you. You’re unsure about how you feel, it’s a lot. You’ve never truly thought about Damian in such a light before, at least not to your knowledge. Sure, you’ve written compositions about him and sure, if you read between the lines in some songs they’re definitely about him. You and Him. 

Perhaps, without realizing it, you had made him your muse just as he had made you his. 

“I want you to see this one,” Damian says as he walks up behind you, finally free of people asking him questions. The music loops as he does and you count that there’s five songs on the set playlist. Each and every song was one you had created. Your song from the previous week plays again as you stare at him, smiling. 

“I’m your muse?” You softly ask, unable to remove yourself from the spot until you have gotten your words out. Damian dips his head down for a moment and wipes his nose. “You’re nervous,” The small tease makes his eyes roll and he clears his throat, the red settling from his tanned ears. 

“I want you to see this one,” He repeats and grabs your hand, gently guiding you past the people surrounding the room. They look at the two of you, watching as you walk up to a large painting in the center of the room. Clearly a last-minute addition but it seemed to be the focus. 

“Woah,” Is all you can say when you see the painting of you during your final. It’s painted in the same style as your favorite art era. The romantic era where colors were soft, even if they were dark. The painting itself had you in the center, a sea of people at the bottom and there are several ghostly figures of yourself, dancing across the stage leaving streaks of yourself at the top. The floor of the stage was covered in candles. 

“How long did this take you?” You ask, eyes darting between details and finding new ones each time you look. 

“Two days,” He shrugs. Slowly, you look at him and he looks back at you, confused. “I couldn’t sleep until I finished the painting. The way you looked during your final.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s truly beautiful— you’re truly beautiful,” He adds, looking at you. 

“When you paint me like that I definitely am,” You laugh, looking back at the painting. 

“I only painted you through my lens. Perhaps your eyes aren’t as good as you think they are because the paintings truly do not live up to their references. You’re captivating and the way you’ve consumed my thoughts is honestly intoxicating.” His eyes twinkle as you look at each other. You don’t know what to say, honestly. You can stroke your ego a little, you could crack a joke, or you could bear yourself completely to him. But definitely not in a room filled with people. 

“Ah,” Dick breaks the silence. “You know he used to be a junior poet?” Grumbling, Damian looks over at Richard as he’s staring at the painting, sipping sparkling champagne from a flute glass while holding a cracker with cheese and jelly. Gross. Probably, you’ve never had it before. 

“I do believe I asked for a moment alone,” Damian gives a half-snarky grin and Dick shrugs. 

“A whole lotta people here, doubt you’d be alone.” With a sweeping motion, he gestures to the crowd around you. It’s not elbow-to-elbow crowded but you can hear at least seven conversations happening around you. 

“I suppose you’re correct,” He nods, following his brother's line of thinking. “Fresh air?” He asks you and you nod. 

There’s a park in front of the exhibit and it’s mostly empty, save for two kids and their parents but they’re clearly about to leave. Damian heads towards the benches but you pull him to the swings. There are three but one of them is tossed over the bar and you don’t feel like fixing it. 

Sitting with your back to the exhibit, you look over the trees and the playground. The sandpit with someone’s lost doll sitting down, a bucket behind it. 

“What did you think?” He spoke up after a minute had passed. The entire time he watched as you gently rocked back and forth on the swings, tempting yourself to actually swing. 

“You’re amazingly talented,” You hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Although, I already knew that. You’re like Michelangelo with everything you pick up.” Glancing at him, you smile when you see his hands. “You still haven’t cleaned the charcoal from your nails.” 

“No,” He blinks, his eyes staying closed for a beat longer than a blink. “Not of my skill level, (Y/n). Of the drawings. That you’re Muse.” He looks down at his fingertips and starts to pick at the bits of charcoal. “That you’re my muse.”

Softly you sigh before looking back to the trees. 

“What is there to think about? You’re my muse, I'm yours.” 

“You’ve written songs about me?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, refusing to look at him. “Which? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“Birds of a feather, I wanna be yours, and Golden hour. There’s more but they’re too embarrassing to admit,” Hearing him take a deep breath, you pick at your fingernails and slowly stop swinging.

“What now?” You ask, finally looking at him. He shrugs and starts to slowly swing. He thinks for a moment before he checks his phone. 

“When are you free? I can make reservations to—“

“Applebees or Red Lobster,” You cut him off and he looks at you, confused. “Applebees is once every so often, birthdays or celebrations. But Red Lobster? That’s graduation or date.” 

“You could’ve gone for a five-star restaurant, you know that, right?” He laughs and you shrug. 

“I heard they’re pretty shit. And I want to fuck up a seafood boil. Oh wait,” Blinking, you try to remember the Red Lobster menu. “Never mind, I don’t think they have vegetarian options. We could do Olive Garden or whatever vegetarian places you like. I’m not picky,” 

“And I am?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “Friday, at five. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Olive Garden. And then to the movies to watch that new horror movie you’ve been wanting to watch.”

“That sounds perfect,” You nod and nudge your swing into his. 

“Can I admit something?” He slowly asks. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward but…” Watching as he licks his lip, you stop swinging. “May I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” You nod. Trying not to seem too eager, the both of you stand up and you watch as he raises his hands to cup your face. His fingers are warm, gliding across your skin as you hook one arm around his waist while the other holds his shoulder. “Do you want to lead?” You whisper as he looks at you, unmoving. His eyes dart down to your lips and he nods before closing the distance. 

His hands drag a little down your face, his pinky curving under your jaw before moving up into your hair. Slowly the kiss breaks and he dips back down for one quick kiss. 

“He’s been waiting months to do that,” Dick announces and Damian groans. You snicker and look behind Damian. Dick isn’t even looking, looking off into the distance before he’s sure that you’re done kissing before looking at the two of you. 

“Must he ruin everything?” He whispers to you before facing his brother. “I understand you have no concept of privacy, but this warrants that.” Dick frowns at the rudeness before he shrugs and points his thumb towards the venue. 

“They’re asking for you, thought I should come and get you before they spot you.” He explains through a sigh. “Would hate for our little demon’s kiss to end up on the front page. But, yeah,” He sighs and looks over at you. He stares at your face for a moment before he chuckles. 

“Take him to the bathroom, you got dust on his face.”

“It’s charcoal.”

[branded-rose]

Adam sat upright in bed, a shout on his lips that dropped off as his wings shot out, smacking his lieutenant in the head and nearly pushing her off the mattress.

Lute met the rude awakening with all the urgency it deserved, springing up and drawing her fists in front of her defensively as Adam let loose a string of profanity.

She quickly drew up the blind to let light into the room before she darted around the bed; her eyes scanning the room quickly for signs of danger even if she knew there shouldn’t be anything. 

It was Heaven. What threat would there realistically be?

When she was satisfied she returned to the bed, about to ask her superior officer what sick joke he was pulling when she stopped.

Adam was pale, his hands trembling as he brought them up to wipe cold sweat from his brow. A string of curses still fell from his lips, albeit strained.

She tentatively reached a hand out, placing it gently on his shoulder.

“Uh… Sir?”

Adam flinched, turning his head to meet Lute’s concerned expression. He forced a smile and shrugged, trying his very best to play the whole thing off.

“What? Just a nightmare. Geez you’re acting like we’re being attacked or something. @#$%#@ relax.” He forced a laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Lute fell silent a moment, examining her commander closely. It wasn’t often she saw him so… uncertain. So shaken. Even in times he was unsure of himself he typically covered it up with bravado.

She scooted closer, pushing on his shoulder to encourage him to turn so she could realign some of the golden feathers in his wing that had dislodged when he’d struck her.

“What was it about?” Her fingers very delicately and precisely moved over the wing, sliding the feathers back into place and easing any discomfort. Something that was visible as she watched Adam’s posture relax.

“Just… human stuff. You wouldn’t get it.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“I was human once too.”

“Yeah well-“ He scratched the back of his neck, agitated. “-You wouldn’t get it. And besides that was @#$%#@ forever ago.”  

“You were an angel hundreds of years before I was.” Lute retorted.

“Yeah… and? What’s your @#$#@% point?”

The exorcist felt her eyebrow twitch, yanking on his wings to pull him towards her.

“You’re not the only one who understands the horrors of living.”

Adam paused for a long moment, considering his lieutenant’s words ever so briefly before turning so their faces were just inches apart. 

His expression softened. “I thought you were ‘reborn’?”

“I was.”

“So then when was the last time you had a nightmare?”

Lute’s jaw opened only to close again. She hadn’t had a nightmare in decades. Or if she had she couldn’t recall what it was exactly. Certainly nothing to startle her awake.

He turned away from her, pulling back briefly to rub his face.

“That’s what I thought. Must be nice.”

She watched him for an additional moment before she got up and closed the blinds, allowing the room to fall back into darkness.

“You should go back to sleep.” She uttered softly, her chin grazing against his shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” He waited for her to get comfortable before he drew close, his arms and wings wrapping around her small frame, almost protectively.

Possessively.

Lute settled into the embrace, familiar and warm as it was. She couldn’t help but smirk softly as she rested her chin on top of his head, his ear against her chest.

“Hey… Lute. You… won’t betray me or whatever, right?” He muttered softly, his tone laced with uncertainty.

Lute’s brows furrowed slightly, confused by the suddenness of the question.

“Of course not, Sir.” Her grip on him tightened ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“…I wouldn’t dare.”

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

Idea/prompt from the amazing @kimik0hippie! Seriously, their stuff singlehandedly inspired me to come out of my 800000 year hiatus and actually do illustrations again. So please go check their art out. ;D

Adam & Lute © Vivziepop/A24

Artwork © Branded-Rose

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Tit For Tat

Santiago Pope Garcia x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 15: Against a Wall

Summary: You and Santi sneak off.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). A massive thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for saving my butt yet again and beating.

Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving), please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 460

Santi moans loudly, his head thrown back, his back pressed against the wall. His jeans are down by his thighs from where you tugged them, low and nearly at the knee. There’s the beginning hint of one of his surgery scars just peeking out at the edge of the material. 

His unbuckled belt taps rhythmically against the fly as you bob your head, sucking him as deep into your mouth as you can.

You jerk him in time with your mouth, caressing the inches you can swallow down while you lightly knead and squeeze his heavy balls. 

“Baby,” he groans, biting his lip as he bucks weakly into the heat of your mouth. “Please, I’m gonna…” He sucks in a deep breath as you moan lightly, the sound reverberating along his skin. 

He wants to hold off, wants to let you play with him as long as you wish, forever if you wanted. God, he would do anything you wanted. 

He knows he’s meant to be keeping vaguely quiet. The walls aren’t that thin and pretty much everyone is in the garden outside, but even so, he’s getting dangerously close to too loud. But he just can’t help himself, can’t gather together enough brain cells that haven't been overloaded by the feeling of your lips and tongue along his cock to care. 

His balls tighten, drawing up as his length pulses and grows impossibly harder. 

“Gonna come…” He whines, his breath catching in his throat. 

He’s not used to this, not used to being given things so completely. Not used to being the one that’s pressed against surfaces and pampered with pleasure. 

Not used to someone not expecting anything in return. 

But, oh boy, how he was going to return it. 

He was going to get you down completely flat on your back on the floor with his head between your legs and make you come and come and come and-

He cries out softly, bucks weakly as his orgasm floods his veins and he spurts hot, thick cum into your eager mouth. 

You moan around him, swallowing eagerly as he shivers and shakes. Only pulling back as he sighs and slumps forward ever so slightly. 

You’re grinning up at him when he looks at you. 

“You trying to let everyone know you’re getting your dick sucked?” You tease and he scoffs, grinning.

“Maybe.” He shrugs, still breathing deeply. “Was I that bad?” 

You shake your head. “There’s still some plausible deniability.” 

He snorts, slowly sinking down onto the floor next to you. His heart warms when you reach out to help him. “Yeah, well, there won’t be.” 

“What?”  He grabs you, making you chuckle as he pulls you into a searing kiss. “‘Cause I’m about to make you scream.”

Thank you for reading!

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[lyneira]

♡ cloud nine ♡

-> having the genshin men lay their head on your lap

Their heart would be racing

Thoma, Gorou, Scaramouche, Xiao

They'll keep their eyes closed the entire time, attempting to act asleep. It's not that they don't want to look up at you, it's just that their heart will implode if they do.

For the moment he looks up at you, face radiant and gazing tenderly down at him with that smile he adores, his heart will be racing, overwhelmed with love and he'll realize just how far he's fallen for you.

So when you put a hand to his cheek, his instinctive reaction would be to place his own atop of yours and nuzzle his cheek further into your palm, enjoying the warmth you provide him and never wanting to let go of it.

This will earn a chuckle from you as you've caught him red-handed. It'll force him to open his eyes to gaze into yours, and GOSH he's down bad, cheeks flushed red as he takes your hand and uses his other in attempt to cover it.

(OKAY I know Scaramouche doesn't technically have a heart, but y'all know what I mean!!)

Finds true peace

Dainsleif, Diluc, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Ayato, Cyno

Despite all of the worries and troubles that constantly invade his mind, all of them would soon disappear when he's laying on your lap. Feeling your hands gently massaging his temples and feeling your fingers run through his hair, he'll let his head further sink into your thighs and the only thing occupying his mind would be you.

After all, you are his happy place and at this point, he'd be like putty in your hands: so vulnerable as he gives himself to you. He'd wish that moments like this could last forever, and in the time that he spends with you, you give him that glimmer of hope, which is why he adores you so.

Sleeps immediately

Itto, Heizou, Venti, Childe

Can you blame him? Your lap is the most comfortable and soothing pillow he's ever slept on, so of course he would easily knock out the moment you let him rest his head on it.

You can expect him to move around a lot in his sleep, and he'll occasionally flip onto his belly attempting to hug your thighs or hug your waist like the best teddybear and pillow that you are to him. He's going to act like a big baby on your lap, and with the amount of times he'd beg and whine to sleep on your lap, indeed he was.

Anyway, you can take this opportunity to do something funky with his hair or draw on his face as payment for making your legs sore from the hours of holding the weight of his head, haha

Enjoys conversations in this position

Zhongli, Kazuha, Albedo, Tighnari, Kaeya, Baizhu

Unlike the previous category, these guys wouldn't let the comfort of your lap lull them to sleep. Instead, they'll truly savor this moment they have with you by talking to you like this. He'll want to hear about your day, what's on your mind, anything really. He'll enjoy watching your face, feeling your assuring warmth, and will reach up to caress your cheek, happy that he's able to rest on the lap of his beloved.

a/n: took a little break from the spicy stuff I've been posting! I wanted to make them as disgustingly fluffy so some of them honestly feel a bit ooc, LOL

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Sway The Stars Which Dazzle Like Pearls

Pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Warnings: reader is mute due to trauma that isn't specified and uses sign language taught to her by Din, everything in italics is being signed.

A/N: I feel like I haven't written anything in forever and I was worried about not being able to get this done in time and that if I did that it wouldn't be good enough anyway. But, here it is, good or bad. If I got anything wrong as far as communicating via sign language, let me know so I can do better! My fic for the Summer Lovin' 2024 writing challenge. @pedgito @chaotic-mystery

The planet they land on seems to have an eternal night, a never ending full moon and black sand beaches. Here, the stars reflect perfectly in the still waters, a mirror image of the galaxy spread out above. She walks down the Razor Crest's ramp silently, assessing these surroundings with a sharp eye.

He watches her squat down on her haunches to scoop up a handful of the dark sand, crushing it around between her fingers like she's feeling for the quality of an expensive fabric woven on a far off planet. Her face gives little away of what she is thinking.

Din doesn't know much about her past, about what happened before he found her stowed away on the Crest and petrified of her own shadow after his (first) explosive departure from Nevarro, the tiny green kid in tow.

All he knows is that she can't talk. The words are there, he can see them tumbling around behind her eyes, but they seem to get clogged up in her throat, like a gummed up hyperdrive. So he'd started teaching her to sign.

Her footsteps crunch the gravel-sand as she makes her way over to his side, brushing her hands together to clean off the excess sand but some grains still cling to the creases between her fingers, almost sparkling in the moonlight like jewelry. She pins him with a questioning gaze and signs

'Why?'

"Why what?" he motions backs and she fumbles another word, face scrunched in frustration until she finds her rhythm

'Why are we here? Bounty?"

Din shakes his head, considering what he would call this little excursion between jobs before he replies with

"Pitstop, for fun"

"You do fun?" she pulls her mouth into a smirk, pleased at her little joke.

Din tries not to sigh. He's glad they can communicate so freely now, it's light-years better than their rough early days where any movement to sudden or big had her flinching away violently. But he has no idea how she learned to put so much sarcasm into her gestures. Not that he minds now. Anything is better than seeing that unfiltered terror in her eyes.

"Come" he turns and takes a step toward the gently lapping waters edge but doesn't hear her follow, he turns back with a questioning tilt of his helmet

"What is it?" she asks, expression concerned, still rooted in place

"Something good" he assures

"Promise?"

"Yes."

When they reach the water, the ship and the sleeping green child inside it are only a few yards away, a hulking silhouette jutting out of the otherwise flat landscape.

Pulling off his gloves and tucking them safely away, Din crouches down, the toes of his boots touching the water. His companion mimics him, watching carefully as he slowly submerges his hands in the water before carefully feeling around in the wet sand below.

She taps her knuckles into the soft place just below his beskar pauldron, knowing from unfortunate experience not to catch the armor with her bare hands, furrowing her brows when he turns to look at her, seeing her ask

"What are you looking for?"

"Just wait" Din says aloud and she leans back to sit properly on the ground, still curiously watching him dig around, one of her own hands drawing meaningless shapes in the sand beside her.

It takes him a few tries before he finds it, a small orb made and shaped by time and natural forces until it was washed ashore, waiting to be found.

Sitting back beside her, Din holds out his find nestled in the palm of his hand. It stands out stark white and shining in the odd moonlight.

She signs something he doesn't recognize at first, she watches him for a moment, waiting, and then tries again

"Diamond"

"No, pearl" he says out loud and signs it once, twice, then watches her repeat the motion.

The first few times are uncertain as her eyes dart between her hands and his, studying the movement he makes which shapes this new word. Then a couple more times, each with more confidence until

"Pearl" she signs, grinning over at him

"Good" Din smiles beneath his helmet, holding out the pearl to her, an offering.

"Mine?" she quirks a brow at him, still uneasy with receiving things she doesn't feel she has earned.

Din just watches her, hand outstretched and waiting patiently for her to accept this small gratitude.

Eventually, with the barest brush of her fingertips across his naked palm, she takes the pearl. Holding it reverently, worry flashing across her face before she curls her hand around the gifted treasure.

Din had learned to sit with silence long before he met her, so he turns his head out toward the water, then upward just a little, like he's watching the stars.

He isn't. He is giving her the privacy to feel those sometimes tumultuous emotions that come with receiving a gift.

She frowns at her closed fist, lips pulled down in a deep scowl. If her eyes look a bit glossy, she would never admit it. There's a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, a roiling feeling that urges her to not accept this. Not to trust.

But she can see the Mandalorian from the corner of her eye, pretending to watch the stars, nervously rubbing the tips of his fingers together and smearing the gritty sand there until it sloughs off and back onto the beach.

Her courage feels like a finite thing, urgently flopping around in her chest like a gasping fish on land. She leans over closer to the Mandalorian, sees his helmet shift but not quite turn fully toward her as she wraps her arms around his bicep, the pauldron on his shoulder cold even through her shirt.

Hugging him feels like a monumental leap, her cheek pressed against the mudhorn sigil on his beskar shoulder. Her courage has waned and she feels weak, vulnerable, but the little pearl clutched in her hand reminds her that it isn't gone for good.

That it is okay to lean into her companion, her friend, who seems like a forever sturdy rock in the storm that has eclipsed her life.

Awkwardly, arms still wrapped around her Mandalorian's arm, she tells him

"Thank you."

Din makes a sound of acknowledgement, smiling gently beneath his helmet and watching her from the corner of his eye. Her face seems content and his chest constricts in pride, to see that he has hopefully earned her trust enough for her to relax in his presence.

"You're not even looking at the stars" she softly accuses, leaning forward to fully grab his attention

"Neither are you" he retorts.

She huffs a small laugh, tilting her head and raising a hand slowly toward the smooth metal cheek of his helmet. She guides him so they are face to face. Sort of.

They stare, her watching the reflection of the stars in the visor of his helmet, wondering just a little if his eyes are bright beneath all this beskar. If he's looking at her as gratefully as she is him.

Din watches her face, unsure about the hand she has on his helmet, but far more distracted with trying to decipher her expression. Joy seems too big, maybe contentment?

Either way, neither one of them is watching the stars turn above them, a precious pearl clutched between them, a symbol of more. Of hope.

[signedkoko]

omggh iii! if your requests are still open, can i please request some headcannons with val, vox and lucifer being in love with an imp?? l love asmodeous and fizzy soooo yk yk

Lucifer | Valentino X Reader [Romantic]

In which they wall for a hellborn imp, which may not sit right with most higher beings of hell. Reader is genderneutral.

This guy is literally the king of hell, Lucifer himself

Whoever he wants to be seen with is up to him; he's more of a trendsetter than anything else

He loves you, you're so sweet, and you take care of him, so why would where you were born matter?

Even if met with backlash, he wouldn't respond to any of it because it was 'petty drama'

After all, hell is full of murderers, thieves, and cannibals—do we really draw the line at something as stupid as who can date who?

If anyone were to go after you for dating Lucifer, they'd be wiped out in a second

He won't let anyone think they have the right to decide what's best for him

Lucifer is very excited to see hell through your lens, though, and he will travel with you to your ring so he can meet those you grew up with

A lot of hellborns look up to you for breaking the barrier, too

For every demon that hates you, there are three that admire you

Valentino is a mess of a man, he's been in all sorts of controversies and ate them all up

He truly feels that a lack of regret and a surplus of confidence will get you anywhere, and there are so many ruined people who'll follow him despite his wrongdoings

So when word gets out that you're together—and that happens fast—it's not much of a big deal

Since when has Val been afraid to get close to hellborn? Never! The only thing that's new is his dedication to one

There will always be a few overlords or higher-ups that view it as 'dirty' or 'wrong', but when have they ever agreed with him?

And with it being public, it's not like they can blackmail him with the knowledge unless they straight up stole you from him

But he wouldn't let that happen, no, you are his and his alone, forever

If anyone insulted you so badly on the street, he would bury them.

Val only needs one thing to remain pure in his life, and that is you

Author's Note - I know you also wanted Vox but I actually had a oneshot requested of the same thing with him! You can find it here! And of course, thank you for requesting 🖤

[gayerthanevertbh]

morning shenanigans.

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

n.r masterlist | navigation | n.r one-shots masterlist

summary: you and natasha spent the morning making “love” while other people were awake. 

warnings: rough sex, dirty talking, daddy kink, natasha being a little needy, pet names (sweetheart, slut, whore, etc), talks about anal sex, and more - 18+ MINORS DNI.

author’s note: just a little fic in my head that i wrote lol enjoy cx

“Natasha, oh my god!”

You clutched the headboard as Natasha rutted into you, grunting and panting above you like a hungry animal devouring its prey. She had her eyes closed and was moaning every time your cunt clenched on her meaty length, making it even more difficult for her not to come so soon. She flutters her eyes open as she kisses your lips hard and sloppily, spitting into your mouth as if she wanted you to be in her forever.

"Jesus Christ," she sighs, rolling her hips each time her cockhead brushes against your cervix. “You’re so tight for me, fuck! Oh god–”

“Quiet, Henry might hear us–”

"He's probably asleep," the older woman above you mutters as she feels your inner walls squeezing her cock once more, causing her to roll her eyes in the back of her head. "You're squeezing me too tightly, baby girl."

You smirk at her, clawing her ass as you let her go deeper inside of you.

“You don’t like that, Daddy?”

“Who said I didn't like it?” she growls, licking a stripe from her neck as she continues to cling to you, grabbing your hips. “You like this, don’t you? Do you like it when Daddy fucks you like this?”

You whimpered out loud, turning your gaze to the door, apprehensive that your child would burst into your room if he saw your girlfriend fucking you into oblivion.

“Baby, look at me,” she says softly, her hand gripping your jaw as she kisses your lips. “That’s it, you’re doing so good angel…” she pulls out of your pussy, leaving only her cockhead inside your walls as she wraps her hand around her meat and slowly pumps herself, looking down at you hungrily.

“D-Daddy,” you whimpered, attempting to roll her hips so that her entire length could slip into you. “Please fuck me... Fuck me good. I want you to go deep inside of me and fill me up.”

“Yeah?” she asks, her other hand squeezing your right breast and tweaking your nipple as you whine quietly. “You like this, baby? Hm? Gonna ruin your fucking pussy for everyone else, okay? Stay quiet and be pretty for me, little girl.”

Natasha pushed her penis all the way inside of you again, the bed creaking as she pounded into you hard, her mouth on your chest, open-mouth kisses on the middle of your cleavage. She moves her hands all over your back, thrusting her cock in and out until you feel yourself losing control and falling into euphoria.

“I need you so much,” she begs, peppering her lips all over your collarbone. “Y-You make me want to bust my nut into you, make you my breeding bitch. Tell me, you want to be bred like a little whore, huh? Come on.”

Natasha's hips snap back into you, pulling out before pumping herself back in. She looks down, watching her cock slip inside of you so easily that she might mistake you for no longer being tight. But you've always been so tight on her, so desperate for her penis, that she can go hard whenever she sees you. The older redhead returns her gaze to you and smirks, unconcerned that the neighbors might hear them banging each other's heads together.

"Good girl," she grunted, closing your mouth as she lifted your other leg, her cock effortlessly slipping inside of you. She draws back, seeing your juices coat her long limbs. "Do you like my big cock, sweetheart?" "You like Daddy's big cock?"

“Mhm!” you bit your bottom lip as her hips rolled back into you, causing the bed to groan once again. “Nat, Henry might-”

“Just be quiet, baby. H-he won't hear anything,” she mumbles as she gives you a gentle kiss. “You're making Daddy feel so good, God. I feel you all over my dick, fuck…”

Natasha's tip was mercilessly slamming into your sensitive spot, and your whines and moans could be heard throughout the room - you couldn't help yourself, she was too excellent at this. She was too adept at making you feel as if you were in oblivion or paradise. Her growls get louder as both of your wet skins slap together, filling up the room to the point that you could assume someone could hear you from outside.

“You're such an obedient little slut,” she moaned above you, her tongue brushing over your nipple. “Do you enjoy being fucked by me? Do you enjoy being my naughty little girl?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned in return, nodding vigorously. “Please, go hard, please-”

“Telling me what to do right now, hm?” she groans into your neck, jackhammering her hips into you. She spreads your legs widely with her knees, allowing herself to fuck you without a care in the world.

“Feels good?” she asks while panting, her breasts bouncing each time she ruts into you. You couldn't resist sucking one of her nipples, causing her to hiss. “Oh fuck–shit, oh god… that feels so good–”

“Are you close?” you asked, whining as you felt her cock hump into you and her arms tighten around you. “Daddy, cum in me–”

“I'm here, baby… oh fuck,” she moans aloud, sucking on your neck to the point of bruising. She continues to pound into you until she stops her hips, balls deep inside of you. “I'm going to cum, I'm going... Oh, shit!”

She stills her hips and releases massive amounts of sperm into you, her ass twitching as she releases her thick, white milk into you, her mouth all over your chest. You ran your fingers through her short brunette hair, gripping it tightly as you went around her length. She yanked out quickly, splattering more thick cum all over your pussy lips - she smiled.

"D-Did you like that?" she asks, her gaze fixed on your pussy clench. She couldn't help but grab her tip and spread the cum all over your folds, repeatedly slapping the head on your clit. This gesture made you flutter your eyes closed. “Fuck, baby. I just gave you a creampie.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, your eyes closed, as you felt Natasha's cum oozing out of your hole, causing her to chuckle deeply. “Happy now?”

“That I came in you? Yes,” she said as she stood up in her loose gray boxers, an obvious tent in her undergarment. “What is it?” asks the older woman, turning her head over her shoulder.

“I feel like Henry heard us.”

She snickered and crept back under the covers, clutching you close. “I doubt it. He’s dead asleep, baby.”

“Yeah, I guess–”

A loud bang is heard against the bedroom door. “Mommy? Can you please help me make waffles? I know Mama is still asleep, so please come and help me.”

You laughed softly as you rolled out of bed, teasing Natasha with your bare ass. “I want to bite your ass,” she said quietly.

“You could do that later, my love.” you brushed your hair away from your sweaty face while wearing shorts.

Natasha was allowing herself some free time by staying at your apartment for a short time while she was away from the compound. You had to inform the older woman you had a son when you first met her. You assumed she would resist you because she did not want to be engaged with a single parent. But the moment she heard you say those words, she treated Henry as if he were her own. It was as if you had a new family with her, and you felt entirely whole again.

She stood up when she heard your mother calling from the other side of the room. She kisses your left cheek while brushing her hair off her brow and wearing sweatpants.

"Can I also cum in your ass?" she asked with a whine. “Please, baby girl? Please? Come on, it’ll fit.”

You give your girlfriend a wink as you leave the room, the sperm in your cunt still leaking from its hole. Oh well, you thought. I’ll fix that later.

um.