#again it's strange to send an ask like “i think the people you draw are a bit too ugly to look at”

[leidensygdom]

Idk if it's intentional on your part but while your art shows a lot of talent and thought, it isn't really... Pretty. None of your characters make me want to look at them more than once. It's something in the face, I think, but might be the whole body and way they carry themselves. If that's your vibe, then don't stop on my account!

I... Uh, I really don't know how to feel about this! It's a bit of an odd ask!

I do try to make a conscious effort to try to have a bit of variety with my characters- Bigger noses, jaws, I've been trying to push towards more realistic body types lately too. I feel like a lot of that is really underrepresented in artist circles. Everyone's androgynous hot elf of the day ends up blurring up a bit for me, specially because I'm quite faceblind.

I don't know, I grew up seeing stuff like League of Legends all around, with all the same-faced, same-bodied flawless women and I kinda felt really bored! I feel like there's a lot of beauty and fun to be had trying to depict people, and it feels not very realistic to stick only to the most perfect beauty-standard characters. I also just like meat I guess, the way a tummy hangs, necks that don't feel all too chiselled, all that stuff.

Then again, I'm a sex-repulsed ace so I don't really understand physical attraction all that much. I wonder if that does affect how I draw in some way. I just enjoy going outside and seeing an unusual nose bridge, and then trying to capture it when making a new character. Some artists have the goal to make the prettiest art in every sense, and try to depict only the prettiest of people, but... eh. I don't think that's my goal! And I'm having fun with that!

[fefern]

✧˖° their ways of showing affection. | aalto, calcharo, lingyang headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: you're in love and happily with these wonderful men! but just how do they show their affection for you?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): aalto, calcharo, lingyang and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: another one! i love thinking about the little ways people show love , it makes me so happy ;v;! enjoy these little blurbs about how they'd love you! also, requests are currently open, so send them my way! also, i could not find a calcharo chibi drawing... ;;

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ aalto ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

knowledge is power! the more he knows about you, the more he utilizes it in showing his affection for you.

a big, BIG sweet talker. loves to flirt!

also big on compliments, find it cute when you don’t know what to say back.

a big spender in my opinion. oh, you liked that necklace but thought it was too expensive? surprise, it’s on the counter for you when you wake up the next day! you tried to win that plushie at the fair but it just didn’t work out? now you have 20 on the couch!

adores kisses, especially when you pepper them all over his face. (bonus points if you’re wearing lipstick, man is enamored to look at himself and see visually everywhere you smooched him.)

follows the sidewalk rule all the time. does not matter if it’s a safe area, he always is a bit protective in that way.

learns more about your hobbies and likes and begins to learn more about them in his free time. that way, when he sees you again, he’ll be able to engage in conversation with you about it. 

loves the way that your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about, and stares at you a lot as a result. 

likes to playfully scare you. he seems to have the ability to disappear and reappear as he pleases due to the mist, so he uses it sometimes to suddenly appear behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ calcharo ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

not much of a talker, and kind of new to showing affection entirely due to his past, so be patient. 

will wake up early and remind you to bring a jacket if it’s cold.

the type of person to also remind you that you forgot something, but by the time you turn around, he has the missing item in his hand.

will protect you if you’re scared of something. loud thunder? his hands are around your ears. scary part of a show? he’s using his arm to pull you closer to his chest to hide in. 

will quietly work in the same room as you, enjoying your presence entirely as you and him work. 

will sometimes ask those he knows around him for some advice about love, which is sort of strange considering who it’s coming from, but he wants to improve himself to be a better partner for you.

tries to apply the advice after, it’s a hit or miss sometimes, but always coming from a good place. 

iffy on physical touch, but he will slowly come to enjoy the feeling of holding your hand.

he also does the thumb thing where you rub the back of a person’s hand with your thumb while holding hands. his favorite.

will let you play with his hair sometimes in the morning if he’s in the mood for it. even if you do something goofy like braid his hair or put it into a random hairdo, he’ll enjoy the feeling of your hands in his hair as he slowly stirs awake. 

ruthless and cold in many other aspects of his life, he’s a gentle giant when it comes to you, and it’s endearing to see him try.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ lingyang ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

will always love to eat with you, whether it’s going out or cooking with you. 

^ always lets you have the last bite of the meal.

immediately looks for your reaction after he tells a joke with you, wanting to make sure that you enjoy his playfulness.

during the summer heatwaves, will use his glacio powers to help keep the both of you cool.

will sit in your lap and let you play with his ears as he rambles about his day.

loves yapping, and yapping in your presence as the two of you either bounce back and forth or you just listen, he likes both options. 

loves hugs, hugs tight and for a long time, will not let go of you until you let go of him first.

will compliment your scent and comment on it if you change something up like your shampoo or perfume, usually the first to notice those small changes.

shares a blanket with you on cold days and cuddles with you for warmth.

will sometimes, after waking up, just admire your features because wow he got lucky because you’re his.

even if you wake up and your eyes are looking back at him, he does it without shame.

whenever someone talks about you, if they say something wrong, he’ll immediately interject. (ex. “they like strawberries the most.” “no no, they like peaches more!”)

does practice runs of new tricks and dance moves he learns for his lion dances, asking you about your opinion on them because it means the world to him to know you like the dance he’s so passionate about. 

gets matching lucky charms with you and carries his around everywhere. “maybe we’ll win the lottery with this!�� he tells you.

(he already did. after all, you’re his partner.)

[jacevelaryonswife]

Supermassive Black Hole

A duo project changes some perceptions about your classmate

pairing: Michael Gavey x fem!reader

warnings: smut, period tipical misoginy (2006 guys), loss of virginity, english is not my first language.

word count: 3,297

ewanverse masterlist

When a firm knock came from the door, a name automatically entered your mind.

Gavey.

Michael Gavey.

You imagined that he would come to your meeting eventually, you actually longed to, although you didn't admit it. That idiot deserved to be put in his proper place — which was necessarily below you.

It had all started when a duo project was designated by draw earlier that day, and for both luck and bad luck your partner was the awkward genius, and difficult to deal with Michael Gavey.

There was no shortage of adjectives to be used for the unstable dirty blonde, which was truly fascinating. He intrigued you with his sharp intellect and his eccentric personality to the same extent that he repelled you with his peculiar and almost aggressive way. He was quite a figure, although you didn't allow yourself to think much about it.

It was also not a mystery that he was a true Norman No Mates, which wasn’t difficult to understand since his social skills were disastrous. The memory of him screaming at Oliver Quick in O Week never left your mind, especially the sudden change of attitude when he lowered his head and responded to the sum that Felix's pet (as your friends called him) made. You watched the whole situation closely, with a lot of curiosity, since your tables were close.

After that, whenever he entered an environment, you wondered what he would do next. You never knew what to expect from Gavey.

He started fervent debates during classes, demonstrating unparalleled intelligence and self-confidence, in addition to a slight arrogance that made him look strangely hot. Obviously a dispute of nervous male egos originated from these discussions, which made you watch with veiled fun and irritation while remaining silent. You admired the way his brain worked for math, but you didn't understand how he could be so bad at dealing with other people.

Because of this, you chose to keep a considerable distance from the horizon of events that involved Michael and his complexity, and for a long time this worked perfectly well. Until that damn moment.

Feeling humiliated by the way that insolent worm acted when trying to take responsibility for the whole activity for yourself, as if you were incompetent and incapable, you immediately confronted him about such behavior when he went to your meeting at the end of the class while you collected your material.

"Excuse me?" You asked.

"I'll finish this by Saturday, no need to worry," he repeated condescendingly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you think I won't participate? Or did you just choose to pretend that I don't exist?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed, posture becoming more imposing.

He remained silent for a short moment, seeming to analyze the situation (or the best answer to it, you couldn't tell). He wasn't used to being so reluctant to say what he thought, so it was a surprise to see him using time to devise something.

"I don't like working in group, I thought it would be faster if I did everything," he looked down quickly, running away from your gaze.

"I also don't like working with other people and I didn't even think about excluding you," you replied.

“Of course you don't.” There it was. The veiled arrogance that you so hated, present in most of your classmates.

Few were your STEM classmates, since your class was mostly composed of resentful boys who did not know how to deal with a woman without seeing her as a less intelligent object. Luckily not everyone was like that and you managed to put together a really cool group.

When all you did was send a cold and angry look, Michael cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but you cut him off impatiently. "When you're less asshole look for me again, I think you have my Myspace."

Who did that little shit think it was to treat you like that? 'Of course you don't' He was so fucking pretentious! And that's because he almost couldn't keep eye contact for a long time.

Pathetic.

That skinny nerd tormented your thoughts for the rest of the afternoon and served as gossip between your friends. Predictable. The way he acted was not very different from what you imagined about his annoying self-sufficiency. And even so, there he was, stopping in front of your door (more nerdy than ever) with his laptop and notebook in hand, wearing a blue button striped shirt, black belt and cream pants. He had a terrible taste in clothes, although they totally reflected his personality, he was curious.

“I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier, it wasn't cool,” he started as soon as you leaned carelessly against the door.

Interesting.

You considered it for a moment, looking at him before turning his back and clearing the way for him to enter your space. "It wasn't that hard, was it?" You pulled a chair for him and threw yourself dramatically on the bed before sitting down to face him, already well established and looking closely at your figure. "So... I assume you've already thought about the structure of the project."

Of course he had thought.

He opened the laptop and exposed his idea while showing some calculations in his notebook, and you made an effort to pay attention to what was said and what was sketched. Obviously his idea was good, great actually, incredibly structured and cohesive with what the professor wanted. But you also had some ideas and would like them to be taken into account, telling you what you had planned. Surprisingly, he showed to consider your suggestions, even praising them — you knew they were good, but not that his ego allowed you to visualize this. You suggested a division of parts that would be meticulously checked in a future meeting.

"As you have already started, I thought about staying with the second part, what do you think?" You asked.

"It's okay, I intend to finish tomorrow maybe, I'll forward some references by email to you."

“Sure.” It was all very bureaucratic and direct. You sneaked up to look at his laptop screen before looking at what he was typing. "I have some of these books here, but I'll look for the others."

And without realizing it, you got into a big problem.

The freshness that radiated from him flooded your senses gradually, looking too long at his neck and jaw...

He had such beautiful features and aquiline dirty blonde hair that it looked so soft. And those hands... those long fingers... no, no, no and no. You (your body) couldn't be heating up to Michael Gavey.

But it's been a while since some fun... and you were at a suggestive time of the month. Maybe... just maybe... It wasn't a bad idea. As you returned to sitting on the bed, specifically next to where his chair was, you analyzed him as he typed the references in the email. He was not bad looking, no, quite the opposite in fact.

He was handsome, really handsome. And you wanted him. You wanted Michael Gavey.

You wanted to fuck him.

Fuck that attitude.

But how? How would you approach that nervous nerd?

Your mind struggled to develop an effective approach. You didn't want to waste time, not with the heat that spread high between your legs. You just waited for him to send the damn email and close the laptop. "Do you want anything to drink?"

“I'm good. I think we ended up here, I'll try to finish my part quickly," he looked at the notebook that was on the pillow, which you anticipated to pick up and deliver it, standing up in a false farewell.

"Sure," and as soon as Michael got up with the notebook and laptop, you held his arms, gently removing the objects while placing them on your study table. "But I don't think you should go now," you used without a more seductive tone while holding his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" He asked still, tense, looking directly into your eyes.

“Are you dating someone?” You asked softly, getting closer, leaning your breasts against his chest.

"No, I'm not," he answered the obvious, but you wanted to hear the obvious with all the lyrics.

Stretching a short distance from his lips, you asked: "So can I kiss you?"

That same look seen earlier was present again, as if his mind worked hard to find a solution to the problem presented. His mouth opened minimally when he took a deep breath, this time his gaze fell on your lips. "Why do you want to kiss me?"

"Because I fucking want it."

And then you collided your lips with his in a demanding kiss that took a long time to be reciprocated, but when it was... oh boy. Michael held your waist and tried to keep up with your rhythm. He wasn’t so experienced, but his lips were soft and pleasant against yours, kissing you with so much enthusiasm that it made you dizzy.

It made you both dizzy.

He couldn't believe was happening — and that it was happening to you. You... gorgeous, sexy and intelligent. You with a nice and phenomenal ass, who he believed would never look at him twice. You, who kissed him on the tongue and moved his hands to your chest and ass and smoothed the back of his neck and massaged his shoulder. He'd never been kissed like that before. Had never touched a girl like that.

What the fuck was going on?

With the deepening of the kiss you felt a hardness to press against your belly, inhibiting a conscious smile while Michael struggled between apologizing or pretending that it was not happening. Fortunately, you didn't intend to let that be ignored. Your hand slid from the nape of his neck until it reached the increasing bulge, gently squeezing over his pants, making him moan against your lips. You squeezed again before breaking the kiss.

"I don’t wanna just kiss tonight."

Fuck. He couldn't believe what was going on.

He felt that he would cum right there if your hand kept rubbing his cock.

"Are you sure?" He asked uncertainty, still not convinced that you really wanted him that way. It was so fucking sudden, one minute he was collecting his things to leave and the next he was kissing you.

"All the certainty in the world, and you?" You sang against his lips.

"I-" that would be fucking embarrassing, you would laugh at him, "I want to but- I never-"

Oh. It wasn’t different from what you expected.

"It's okay, seriously, there's no reason to worry about it."

“... are you fucking me or something?” He asked weakly, looking at your beautiful face with lust, seriousness and insecurity. You've never seen him so vulnerable.

"Of course not, I want you Michael, I want that, but if you feel you're not comfortable we don't n-"

"I want that."

“Are you sure?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

He felt a chain of confidence run through his body and leaned over to kiss you. You wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt, groping his newly exposed soft torso. Michael almost sighed when receiving your soft touch, pulling the blouse out of your body and coming across exposed and already hardened breasts.

Fuck.

He almost moaned. They were the first tits he saw in person, it was more than exciting. He held them immediately, massaging, squeezing, experiencing...

"Not like that," you held his hands gently.

"Sorry, I never-"

“It's okay.”

Your hands landed on the belt and unbuttoned it, continuing to unbutton the pants that were urgently removed by him while you discarded your own and hovered only in panties, watching him get rid of the shoes as well. Michael had little time to get used to your half-naked figure, since with a mischievous smile, you slowly lowered your panties and left it accumulated on the floor. He felt his neck and face burn and cock pulse with your vision, contemplating for too long.

You touched him over his black underwear, feeling him hard and big, making him moan.

"I won't last long if you keep fucking touching me like that," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"So why haven't you taken that off yet?" You shook his head, teasing him, watching him almost tear off his underwear and show off his cock in all splendor. He was packing, bigger than you expected, all pink, beautiful and anxious. “You have such a nice body,” you kissed him lazily, anticipation thrumming through you.

Michael felt himself in the clouds with your body pressed to his without any layer of fabric, but a big wave of anxiety hit him when you walked away to get a condom before gently guiding him to bed. “Relax, let me take control,” no foreplay would be necessary when you were already wet enough to receive it. "Take a deep breath and calm down, it's quite intense, try to be distracted by something else," you adjusted the condom to its length and saw it almost shake. That boy wouldn't last a minute.

He followed your instructions and concentrated as much as possible not to cum fast, holding firmly on your hips but nothing prepared him for your wet and hot folds.

Fuck, not even the best handjobs compare to your tight pussy going down on his cock. He moaned loudly when you rested against his groin, staring at where your bodies connected.

You bit your lips and closed your eyes, feeling deliciously full. He was bigger than average and had a delicious thickness that you would love to squeeze on your walls just to see him have a spasm, but I knew it would be too much for the beginning.

"When you want me to move, just say it."

Oh no, no! He was sure he would end up there even if you moved. "Don't move yet," he replied quickly, "Fuck," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was terribly satisfying to see him all vulnerable and red, without the usual arrogance and weirdness, and even better to have him inside you (albeit for a short time presumably). He thought about all the things he heard about sex all his life in those long seconds, filtering out what seemed more credible and useful. Think of something less sexy. It was fucking hard.

“Move.”

“Enjoy baby,” you slid gently up, resting your hands on his chest as you started an experimental and slow rhythm. “Mmm.”

So damn good.

Your juices made the movements easy and smooth, leaving him breathless whenever he was balls deep. The friction generated by the constancy of the movements made you two moan and the tightness on your waist increased. He was a fucking vision with disheveled hair, half-open mouth and crooked glasses, all docile while he was fucked dumb. The feeling of power over such an intelligent man was as exciting as sex, causing a presumptuous smile on your lips when you leaned over to kiss his milky neck, rubbing your body against his.

“Are you enjoying it?” You purred against his skin, kissing him superficially on the lips.

He was in the fucking clouds. And you knew that. Little shit.

He wrapped your body to move his hips against yours. He couldn't hold it anymore, he needed to cum. "I won't last long."

“It's okay, baby.”

Your tits jumped when you started riding it hard at a terrifying pace. He closed his eyes and felt his balls weigh every time you sat on his cock, holding your waist, your tits, your ass, everything you could while you allowed it.

"Fuck- I'm-" he moaned loudly and released his load on the condom, feeling a mind-blowing pleasure that paralyzed his senses and one pulled into a supermassive black hole. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, illuminating the reddish tone that covered it.

So beautiful.

Coming out of the top, you lay comfortably next to him, supporting a part of your peso on his chest while watching him struggling to stabilize his breathing. He still couldn't believe that it had finally happened, and especially with a girl like you.

“Are you here?” You asked after a while with a fun smile, although warm between his legs. He didn't know if he was, but he replied with a panting 'yes'. "Well, because we're not done yet."

What?

“What?” He asked.

“Sex is a two-way street baby, and I haven't come yet,” you purred softly against his ear, biting the lobe.

"I don't know when I'm going to get hard again," he confessed. Well, his brain was working again.

"You don't have these long fingers for nothing, Michael, and if you want it again you'll fuck me with them."

As much as he was affected by a sudden one, his sharp senses were awakened in the implication of a next time. He faithfully believed that hard work would lead him to maximum success in his life, he could not imagine otherwise in this situation. "How should I do that?"

You purred, taking his right hand and guiding it to your wet center. "Always start here if you want to make a girl cum," you circled your bud with his fingers, enjoying the delicious feeling, showing him the place before going down to your entrance. "Start with one finger, then add another."

He followed your instructions firmly, sticking a long finger and pumping slowly. "Not so slow," you bit your lower lip, somewhat impatiently waiting for the development of a slow orgasm. You needed to cum hard. Taking his hand, you held your middle finger and attached it to your index finger. “Faster.”

And although inexperienced and a little strong sometimes, his fingers felt fucking good on your walls, reaching the sweet point that made your feet's fingers curl. “Keep going, mm.”

"Can I kiss you?"

“Yes.”

Michael collided his lips on yours in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, staying on top while he fucked you with his fingers. He was hypnotized by the sounds you were making, by the warmth of your body, by the taste of your mouth...

“I'm close!”

You couldn't believe that that sleeky nerd of all people was giving you such pleasure.

Michael got up abruptly and used the hand that held his weight to circle your clitoris, making your eyes close with the construction of an abrasive orgasm. He pumped faster, watching your body squirm and your back arch.

“Michael- I'm gonna-" your whole body trembled when the coil burst and a hot pleasure flooded your senses, holding the sheets and closing your legs with the strong spasms.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. And he did that. He made you cum. Michael was still very stunned with everything that happened, watching your figure before being pulled to lie next to you. You rested your head on his chest with a satisfied and tired smile, giving light kisses on his skin, relaxed with the post-orgasm fog.

“Did you like it?” You asked to break the ice.

"You've already asked better questions," he joked with a hoarse laugh, "Of course I fucking liked it."

“Mmm, I like to make sure,” you replied, facing his beautiful blue eyes behind the slightly blurred lenses.

Having your body so close (and with everything that happened) Michael felt his cock contract and a new electric current run through his body. "So there's going to be a next time?"

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taglists

general: @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess @arcielee

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thank you smm @solisarium for the help with this ❤️

[azrielwingspan]

'Someone' (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: The IC try to pry into your life and find out who you're crushing on.

Warnings : Noooone.

He was devastatingly handsome. Unfortunately for you, it did not bode well. You were supposed to be focusing on the meeting taking place and yet all you could think about was the shadowsinger seated opposite you.

"It would be best if we were to implement our previous strategy. What do you think Y/N?"

You snapped out of your daze and blinked slowly at your brother seated next to you. He looked at you expectantly as Cassian tried to stifle a laugh.

"Uhhh...yeah..we must...indeed." you choked out.

FOOL FOOL FOOOOOL. You screamed at yourself in your head trying your level best to get back your bearings and steer the meeting in your favor.

"Although, I do think we should discuss the previous strategy in detail and draw up a plan b in case things go south."

The others at the table nodded in agreement and you held in your sigh of relief. Rhys threw a suspicious glance your way but held his tongue. The people closest to you would describe you as an extremely focused and high functioning individual. Surprisingly for them and you , you were anything but that at the moment.

Azriel hadn't uttered a single word throughout the meeting instead choosing to listen attentively and observe , his usual mannerism. You stole another glance at him and froze. Fuck.

His eyes were trained on you, the gold piercing through the flecks of green and brown. Expression unreadable, he raised an eyebrow at your befuddled face. Giving him a crooked smile and almost wincing at how you must have looked, you turned your attention back to the matter at hand. Fantastic. Absolutely, truly fucking fantastic.

Putting in a ton of conscious effort, you managed to get through the rest of the meeting without making a fool of yourself again. Eventually, the conversation at the table turned into casual chatter. After all, everyone at this table was like family. You would fight for every single one of them.

"Y/N was heartbroken. It was rather funny to be quite frank." your head snapped in the direction of Mor who was shooting you a devious grin. It took a few seconds for the realization to kick in and you almost hid your face from absolute mortification. Today was going terrible.

"I was 25!! A CHILD in fae years." You defended yourself hiding your face in your hands. Laughter rose around the table and you sank further into your chair.

"Wait.." Feyre wiped a tear off the corner of her eye, trying to hold in her laughter. "so you're telling me, Y/N fell in love with a stable boy who was terrified of her? Why was he scared? What did you do?"

"She has this weird smile she ..." Rhys saw the glare you directed his way and a smug grin made its way onto his face.

"Okay..okay..I'm sure your love life has improved since then Y/N. Tell me, who is the unlucky guy these days?" Cassian asked sending everyone into a fit on raucous laughter yet again.

You were sure that everyone had noticed the way your shoulders tensed slightly. Cursing yourself for not doing a better job at hiding your emotions, you gave a casual shrug. "No one."

"Riiiiight." Cassian leaned back in his chair and looked to Azriel who had a small smile playing on his lips.

"What do you think Az? You're the spymaster after all."

"I don't pry into others personal lives brother." Azriel leaned forward placing his elbows on the table. "But...I might know who it is."

A flare of shock pulsed through you causing your heart to thump against your chest. Azriel noticed the change in your posture and let a small smirk slide onto his face. Handsome cocky bastard. Did he know?

You didn't think so. Aside from today, you had never given a hint of anything being strange or weird. He was probably playing mind games with you.

"So there is someone then." Mor's eyes twinkled , the makings of plan behind her eyes to glean the information from you later. You told Mor everything. After all, you were the best of friends. Which is why, you couldn't bring yourself to reveal this massive crush on Azriel yet. You knew Mor didn't love him that way and yet you couldn't speak to her about it.

"You guys are delusional. There is absolutely no one and I'm quite content thankyou very much. Also, spymaster..." you emphasized his title, giving him a sour smile "you need to brush up on your skills."

Azriel bowed his head trying to hide the grin blooming on his lips. "Now...if all of you are done gossiping about my non existent love life, I'm going to go spend some quality time with my new book." You left the room before any of them could notice the red blooming high on your cheeks. What you failed to notice however was a tendril of shadow reporting to its master about your flustered state.

That night as you were drifting off to sleep, a note was slid under the door into you room. It read

"It's hard not to pry when you're involved."- 'Someone'

You would be starting your morning with a heart attack tomorrow.

PART 2 OUT NOW ! READ HERE

Part 2 sneak peek here !

A/N: Let me know if you guys have any scenarios or ideas you want to read about. Would love to hear about them!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Happy weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The car comes to a stop. It takes you a minute to notice as you reel yourself back to reality. You blink through the tinted window as Merv turns the music down; a song about glory days or something. 

“Here we are,” he announces and cranes to look back at you, “have fun, miss.” 

“Have fun...” you whisper to yourself in confusion, “what? Where do I go?” 

He laughs, not mockingly, and he points through the window, “well, you’ll want to go into that restaurant and give them Mr. Barnes’ name. They’ll sort you out, I’m sure.” 

“Oh,” your brows draw together. A restaurant. What? 

You undo your seatbelt hesitantly and peer out through the glass again. This is strange. You’ve only had a few interviews and most of them were in cramped backrooms or closets. You pull the handle and let yourself out, thanking Merv before you step up on the curb. 

You shut the car door and hook your bag over your shoulder. You stare up at the restaurant’s marquee. It’s a bistro of some sort. Upscale by your measure, thought you have little experience beyond chain joints and fast food. The white facade with its tall windows is intimidating as you approach the entrance. 

As you step inside, you’re all but assured that you don’t belong. A woman greets you with a pearly smile, her hair in a wispy bun, as she sports a flowery white dress. You look back and forth as she cradles a tablet in one arm. 

“Do you have a reservation?” She asks. 

You look down at yourself. That’s a generous assumption. You don’t know how she’s not telling you to leave. 

“Erm, I... I think I’m looking for someone,” you say, “Mr. Barnes?” 

“Barnes, yes, party for two,” she taps the screen, “he’s waiting. Won’t you follow me?” 

She spins on her heels and strolls away. She’s tall and gorgeous, just like the woman at the casino. You peer around and find no less finery and beauty among the staff and diners. The table are all white and polished and the walls are hung with abstract paintings of heaping fruit and bright cocktails. You’ve never seen brunch done so extravagantly. 

You nearly trip as you look ahead just before you reach the stairs. The hostess climbs ahead of you. You envy her modelesque figure. How is she stuck here? She’s breathtaking. She could be in magazines. 

More importantly, where are you going? 

Several flights and you emerge into the open air. You've never been on a rooftop. You’ve seen things like these in movies. There’s a bar center to the space and tables beneath umbrellas set all about. There is only one diner despite the sunshine. It is strangely desolate for such a warm scene. 

You’re led to the only occupied table. Mr. Barnes stands as you near. He wears a pair of teal slacks and a patterned shirt with an open collar. Casual but just as refined as before. It hardly seems like job interview. 

“Doll,” he greets you with a kiss on the cheek to your surprise. You don’t comment on it, it might just be his way. “You made it.” 

“I...” you check your watch, “it was before noon when I got to the casino.” 

“That’s on me,” he insists as he pulls out the chair for you, “I got restless. Changed my mind. Please.” 

He gestures to the seat and you accept stiffly, moving your bag into your lap as he tucks the chair in under you. He resumes his seat and looks up at the woman patiently standing to the side, “Melody,” he says, “she’ll have a vodka cran, give me my usual. Thanks.” 

“Yes, Mr. Barnes,” she replies eagerly. 

“Oh, and the lunch menu,” he returns. 

She clacks off in her heels as you squirm and clutch your purse. You peer around the rooftop and finally at Bucky. You give a sheepish smile. 

“This is a nice place.” 

“Sure is,” he sits back carelessly. There is no tension in him but your wound tight as a spring. 

“Never been anywhere like this...” your eyes drift over and you stare at the city skyline. 

“Made sure we weren’t near the edge, doll,” he assures, “I remember you’re not a fan.” He rests a hand on the table, rubbing his index and thumb. “And I wanted to have this time alone so my pal did me a favour and cleared the roof.” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“He owns this place,” he shrugs. “Never got into the restaurant business. It’s fickle.” 

You nod, not knowing what to say. He knows about these things. Obviously, a lot. You’ve never even worked a full-time week of work. 

“How’s your sister?” He asks, “I assume you got home safe.” 

“Yes, er, thank you, again, for doing all that,” you bite your lip and his blue eyes catch the gesture as his eyebrow tweaks. “I’m really sorry she did that.” 

“Doll, you’re real sweet apologising for her,” he inclines his head slightly, “but you gotta worry about yourself, don’t ya? That’s why you’re here.” 

The hostess, Melody, reappears and sets down two glasses. Yours is bright red with a lime on the rim and his is dark, no ice. She lays down a menu in front of each of you and straightens her posture. 

“I have to get back to the door but Hailee will be up to help you shortly. Our specials today are a goat cheese and beet salad or a brown sugar salmon with seasonal veggies.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky says as he taps the menu. 

Melody leaves you again and you bend your neck to read the menu. You look for a price beneath the dishes and find none. That can’t be good. 

“I’m not very hungry,” you sit up straight. 

“Doll, don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” he circles his hand around his glass, “why don’t you try your drink? Make sure it’s up to snuff.” He sits forward and lifts his own, “cheers.” 

Your hand slips up the condensating glass before you get a grasp on it. You raise it and clink it against his. You bring it to your lips slowly as he does the same, mirroring you as he watches you intently. You gulp and set down the glass as your cheeks strain. 

“You don’t like it?” He wonders. 

“No, I... well, I don’t drink much,” you take the cloth napkin and dab your lips. 

“Ah, if that’s too tart, you can have a look at the cocktails. Some of them are so sweet, you wouldn’t know the difference.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him, “so...” you swallow and force out your breath, “about the job--” 

“Damn, doll, I’m so all over the place lately, I didn’t even tell you how good you look.” 

“I...” your eyes widen but you quickly wipe away your shock, “that’s nice. I mean, thank you.” Your voice shakes as you struggle to comprehend the compliment. What do you say? “You too.” 

He smirks, “yeah, you think so?” 

“What?” Your voice cracks. 

“You think I look good?” He combs his fingers through his long hair. Oh god. 

“Yes,” you answer cautiously, “I like your shirt.” 

“You’re adorable,” he snickers and shakes his head, leaning forward once more, bending his arms against the table. 

“Uh...” you peek down at the table and back to him. You can’t even blame the sun that you’re about to melt. The umbrella blocks out the bright beacon though a glare comes over the edge. “Bucky, sir, Mr. Barnes,” you shuffle through his titles, “the job. What would that be?” 

His brows rise and he brings a hand up to drag over his mouth and beard, his fingers brushing along the trim of his jaw. 

“The job,” he repeats as he narrows his eyes, “ah,” he lowers his head and presses a fingertip to the menu, “let’s order before we get into all that.” 

You look over the menu again then raise your chin, “I appreciate it, but it’s too much, Bucky. I wouldn’t want to... waste your money.” 

“It’s my money,” he looks at you, “so I’ll decide how I waste it.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks set alight, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he tilts his head again, “you’re just that type of girl. You don’t know what it is to be treated so allow me to show you.” 

You’re confused. This is the oddest encounter you’ve ever had. You almost feel like it’s a joke. You’re this poor helpless girl and he’s flaunting how rich and powerful he is. Is there even a job? 

“I’d feel worse if you didn’t eat, so doll, don’t step on my toes.” 

You chew your cheek and look down again. That’s it. You’ll have the cucumber sandwich. That’s not too much. It can’t be. 

The waitress arrives, a different woman but just as stunning. She introduces herself as Hailee. Bucky prompts you to order first before he gives his own. As she leaves, you rock slightly in your chair, stilling yourself before you can look weird. 

“So... I could clean or... I could learn something--” 

“Let me stop your there, doll,” he puts a large hand up, his palm rough and lined. “It’s my turn to apologise. I... haven’t been honest with you.” 

Your heart drops and you can’t help the glimmer in your vision. No. You’re going to have to go home and tell your mother you failed again. That you wasted her time and gas. You close your eyes and frown. 

“Doll, doll,” he says and you hear his chair scrape. You open your eyes as he pulls his chair around to sit closer to you, “hey, let me finish here.” 

You look him in the eye. Big mistake. You could drown in the blueness. He smirks and rubs your arm. 

“I’m not... it’s not a job I have to offer you,” he says deliberately, his other hand fluttering on your knee, “I would call it an arrangement. Mutually beneficial.” 

You stare at him. You’re entire being is on fire. You don’t understand what he’s saying, more so, you can barely think with him touching you. 

“But... I need a job,” you sniffle. 

He scoffs, not unkindly, “you’ll have money. I know you got a family, your sister, maybe your parents? Economy’s tough, I know it.” 

“Money? For what?” 

He squeezes your knee and sits up, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he leans even closer, “for your company. For yourself.” 

“What?” Your voice piques sharply. “I don’t...” 

“Look, let’s take it slow here, alright? Today is the taster. We spend some time together, see how we vibe, and go from there. Now I know you went to a whole lot of trouble to get so nice and pretty for me today,” he coaxes, “and I’m not gonna waste your time so you won’t go home empty handed. One thousand.” 

“Thousand?” You breathe. 

“Just for lunch,” he says, “I’d pay a lot more so I’m open to bartering.” 

“That’s... a lot...” you mutter. 

“Nothing’s too much for a girl like you,” his fingers dance along your shoulder. 

“I... I...” you heave each word. 

“Now don’t you freak out,” he’s on the edge of laughing, “doll, I mean it. Just lunch. You and me. Nothing...” he pulls away from you and puts his hands up, “untoward.” 

He stands and moves his chair back across from you. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, “I mean it. Let’s get to know each other. I want to know all about you, doll.” 

“Me?” You gulp. 

“You,” he points over the table, “you must like music. You went to that concert, didn’t ya?” 

You nod and curl your shoulders. 

“What kinda music you like?” 

“Oh, I... old stuff, I guess. Destiny’s Child?” You give a sheepish cringe. 

“Old school,” he remarks, “I like it. Spice girls too?” 

“Yeah,” you clamp your lips together. 

“I’m not teasing ya. I can’t lie and say I never turned the radio up when I heard them,” he chuckles, “no judgment. That goes for you too, alright? When you find out how much I like ABBA, you can’t giggle.” 

Your cheeks dimple as you try not to smile. It’s hard to imagine him listening to Dancing Queen. You push your shoulders higher and look away. 

“Don’t laugh,” he chides. 

“I didn’t,” you turn back to him. 

“Yeah, you’re too nice, that’s why,” he purrs, “you gotta tell me your fave ABBA song.” 

You shrug and he squints cynically, “everyone has one. Come on. Fernando?” You shake your head at his guess. “Waterloo?” Again, no. “Mamma Mia?” Nope. “Take a Chance on Me?” No. “Alright, I surrender, tell me.” 

“Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” you eke out. 

“Hm, not what I would guess but interesting,” he muses as his eyes wander from your face and back up, “but I at least knew you had taste.” 

He winks and you let out a giggle. Whether your nervous or something else, you can’t untangle all your emotions from one another. Yet you do feel a little better, a little lighter. It’s an unexpected situation but not as bad as you foresaw. 

[colourstreakgryffin]

asks are open!😘 How would L lawliet react with a shy I mean very shy girlfriend shes short about 5'2. And recently joined the task force to help her boyfriend

💕L💕

Omllll yeeessss! Another Death Note request! Let’s go, I like L too and I was waiting for him! Let’s do it!

Lawliet L

L was very against you trying to join the Task Force. This is definitely the most dangerous case in human history and you’re the last person he wants to risk to try solve it. He doesn’t care to risk his own life, but not yours

When L loves something or someone, it’s permanent and it’s strong, he was very against Watari joining, but he knows he needs Watari and the older man is not as included. L is a stubborn man and he won’t fold to your persistence

How did you manage to get onto the Task Force? L had no choice but to let you join, Light already seen you and his hands were tied by the members thinking a new Detective has joined. He couldn’t fly you out since it’d draw far too much suspicion. For the first time ever, the world’s best detective was stunned as he had to agree on terms he didn’t make

L supposes he doesn’t really mind having you around, it’s bad but not as bad. You’re intelligent, your skilled and you know how to handle yourself. Though, he isn’t a fan of you being apart of the Kira case for obvious reasons

Repeat it, L loves short girls so his significant other being shorter than him is like his actual dream. They are cuddle-sized and easy to keep track off. Even with how hunched he is, L is still packing quite the height and he towers you so suspect him to rest his chin on your head

“Aaah~ my favourite pillow has arrived. I am aware that I’m using your head as a headrest, you’re a suitable ‘small bean’ for the task. Why yes, I do remember what people your height are called and I’m called a ‘beanstalk’”

L is not a teaser about height, he’s a helper. You’re struggling to reach something high, he’ll get it for you. He will analyse the situation and suggest using a step next-time but at the end of the situation, he’ll help in anyway he can

L is a introvert so he understands your overall timidity. If you don’t want to be around the others, he will set up a private room for you that none of the members can access, including him if wanted. He has the money and power to do whatever the fuck he wants, and he is the spoiling type of boyfriend

Yes, I mean that L would send you money if you need it, he will rush around the headquarters to find your favourite blanket, he’s out the door the moment you mention a milkshake you’re carving. He will do stuff for you since you do so much for him, by merely being apart of his life and changing from him a glorified machine to a real human

The way you shyly approach him and Light to hand over the documentation files Watari gave to you whilst he was baking, is just so cute. Internal L is laying on the floor joyous at how adorable you behave, whilst external is politely thanking you

L isn’t built with any muscles(besides dem legs for real) but he isn’t above being protective over you, because he is. Light scared you with that one time he impersonated Kira to a horrifyingly good degree, L is gonna calmly argue with him then get into a fight

“Light. Could you please silence your strangely accurate impersonation of Kira. You’re frightening Dokusha— Hm? What reason do I have to ask of such a request? Well. She’s my partner in business and in life, she is important. Don’t do anything like that again”

L is slowly growing accustom to affection, please give him a break if he doesn’t respond or give it back. He does like it, he just isn’t trained nor knowledgeable enough in couple things. He puts research on those topics into his list so he can do better for you

Though, nobody else can do these things with L. Hold his hand, brush his hair, hug him. Nothing like that is allowed for anybody besides you and well to a degree, Watari but that’s different. You are always allowed in his private research room, most of the time, he wants you there besides him as he works

A cute weird thing L lets you do is latch onto his back. He does have a BAD back from the ten+ years of hunching but he loves feeling you clung onto him like a Koala. You are too shy to do it around the members but that won’t stop L from throwing you onto his back himself. He misses it

L keeps track of everything you like, do and more. He basically has a encyclopaedia of you and can recall every little detail. To him, knowing you like the process of scrubbing through hours worth of camera footage, is important as it shows how devoted he is to you

So tell him everything. He won’t forget any piece of info and he’ll write it down later as a needed backup, like he does for everything else non-Dokusha related. There’s two parts of his mind; Detective and Dokusha. He likes the Dokusha section a lot more

L is very loyal. Do you think he has anybody else waiting? Most women call him a freak for his looks and/or behaviour. You’re his one and only, he can’t throw you away, he just wants you sat besides him all the time. Where he can turn around and know you’re still with him

L shares his sweets with you more, as compared to somebody like Light, and you know he’ll get Watari to deliver whatever you want, whilst the other members get only what L requests for them. You are treated specially and he could care less that it makes him seem favouritistic, he is

L has a habit of mimicking you, kinda like a child. He follows you since your word is a lot more trustworthy. When you eat vegetables and meats with a smiley reaction, he is eating it too whilst waiting for your praise (Watari would struggle here, and he is a bit frustrated that his son listens to his gf, not his father

“Good morning— hm? I seem frustrated. Well… I am. Why is that? Don’t pretend like you don’t know the answer to that question, Dokusha. Yes, yes. I understand you fully. You don’t want me to die but this is my profession, and you shouldn’t be apart of this case. It’s too dangerous, you know how intense my feelings for you are”

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 2

Summary: Y'/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1142 (approx.)

Tony & Steve stood close together outside the hospital room in silence for a few minutes.

“So, that was strange, right Tony?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I noticed somethings she said earlier too.  I think she’s got some kind of amnesia.  Let’s let the Doc do his tests and I’ll come back later this afternoon and talk to him to see what is going on.”

Back in the hospital room, the Doctor pulls a chair up and sits beside your bedside.  “Ok, let’s talk some more.  You’ve been in a coma for 10 days.  We’re going to send you off for an MRI, draw some blood and check the basics first and just make sure everything’s working the way it should. How does that sound?”

Y/n smiles at him tiredly “I’m getting really tired but I’ll try and stay awake for all the tests”

“Well, the MRI you’ll need to stay awake for cause there’ll be certain breathing exercises you’ll need to do during it, but that will all be told to you when you get to the imaging department.  And apart from that, we can always work around your naps, because you definitely need to rest as well.”

Later that day, you are back in your room after the first lot of tests have been completed.  Napping on and off while waiting for the next test and the results of the ones they have already completed.

The doctor comes into the room again with the computer that shows him the test results.  “Well, all of it looks good Y/n.  I can’t see anything concerning on the MRI and the blood tests have come back fine as well, so it looks like no permanent damage.”

“Well, that’s great news Doc” you said.

“Let’s do some memory test questions, okay?” As the Doctor asks this, Tony walks back into the room.

“Sorry doc, I just couldn’t stay away, but it looks like I got here just in time for the good stuff.  Hey Y/n, how are you feeling this afternoon?” he asked.

“Really tired tony.  But Doc has just said that the MRI and other tests have come back fine.  And hopefully if these memory questions go well, I can go home?” you look at the Doctor hopefully.

“Okay, first question – what is today’s date and do you know where you are?” the Doctor begins.

“Today is May 15th and I’m at Stark County Hospital” you proudly answer.

“Great, what is your full name, date of birth and parents names?” the doctor continues.

You smile because these are all easy questions in your opinion. “Easy.  My name is Y/fn Y/ln, Date of birth 22 June, my parents are Y/mn & Y/dn Y/ln”

“Alright, here comes the big one.  What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

“Well, I think I remember an impact, but I’m not sure if that’s a trick of my brain because I’ve been told there was an accident.  I do remember Steve, I mean Captain Rogers, Bucky, Nat and I were heading to a Hydra facility in Romania cause we had intel that there were some hostages being held there.”

“We split up, Nat and Cap went to the West and Bucky and I went to the East to make sure there weren’t any goons over and above the ones we anticipated would be guarding the facility.  Bucky and I dealt with the ones on our side and entered the building, clearing floors as we went.”

“We met Nat & Cap in the centre of the main floor, agreed they’d go up to the higher floors and Bucky and I would go down to the lower floors as we thought that’s likely where they’d hold the hostages.  The last thing I remember is being on maybe the 3rd floor down and entering a room with at least 6 people chained up to the walls, in cells.  Bucky started ripping the cell doors off their hinges so we could get into them, then there was a beeping and that’s about it. “

“Like I said, I think there was an explosion, but I’m not really sure if that’s just cause, you know..” you finished.

“Ok, get some more rest and I’ll be back later to see how you are.” The Doctor told you.  You nodded at him and Tony and closed your eyes.

“I’ll be right back Y/n” Tony smiles at you and you smile back, drifting into sleep.

Tony quickly caught up to the Doctor.  “Hey doc, so, what’s the latest?  That was particularly concerning to me?”

“She seems fine, there’s nothing wrong with any of her results.  What’s concerning you Tony?” he enquired.

“Well, that Hydra incident she says is the last thing she remembers, that was 4 years ago.  I was a bit worried today cause she didn’t seem to remember a few things, but this is the icing on the cake.” Tony conveyed his concern to your doctor.

“Hmmmm, well, I guess we’ll run some more tests and I’ll keep you posted.” The Doctor told Tony, also showing some concern now that he knew this further information.

Over the next couple of days, the doctor and his team ran further tests, but couldn’t work out why you were missing the memories, except for the bump on your head.

Tony and the doctor decided it was time to tell you so they sat down with you on the day you were to be discharged.

“So Y/n” the doctor began “We’ve run a whole heap of tests and everything looks great, however there is one thing we need to let you know.”

“Oh. “you were concerned that there was something that looked ok but wasn’t. “Alright, lay it on me.”

Tony took over “The other day when you first woke up you said a few things that concerned Steve and I.  Then when the doctor was doing the memory test questions, you mentioned the Hydra mission in Romania as the last thing you remembered.”

“Right, that was my last conscious memory that I can recall.” You said.

“Yeah, well the thing is…” Tony started “that mission was not the last mission you went on.”

“Oh, so there’s another mission in the middle that I don’t remember?  How much time am I missing” you can’t think of how long ago it was but surely it was only a few days or a week or two.

“You know what, let’s just leave it at a gap in your memories for now?” Tony asked.

“And we shouldn’t force anything, the more you force this kind of thing, the more the brain can subconsciously rebel against remembering.  We need the memories to come back naturally to give you the best chance of having full recollection of whatever is missing.”

You sat back and wondered just how much you were missing.

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[x-blue-spring-x]

Omg i dreamt that a random being came to me at night when I was in bed and started fooling around with my body. I kept my eyes closed because I was scared, but he was pretty good at it so I got horny and into it.

He started fucking me slowly but deep, with a long, smooth not too thick cock, and it was goooood. I started groping his body, because duh, and it kept changing between forms- from a super buff guy to something less human and more gelatinous??

Then he switched from my pussy to my ass, and to help the transition, some kind of soft and wet protrusion was rubbing my clit a lot like a tongue would, then he stayed in his buff form to fuck me like that. Omg it was amazing. He also asked me to look at him. Since he was staying in his muscley man mood, i looked and wasn’t quite sure what i was looking at, other than a buff dusty dark purple skinned monster. Whatever counted as a mouth came down and latched to my right nipple, sending me into overwhelming pleasure that i was simultaneously trying to escape and have more of.

I only wish i was able to stay in the dream longer to come. Alas, I woke up before that could happen. In any case, i kinda like to think thats how fucking a gentle sukuna would be like, except sukuna would have a thick monster cock obviously, and probably two of them.

Oh i just remembered! I was begging the monster to change his form to have two cocks! Imagine that, a cock for each hole, sukunas tummy tongue to play with your clit and grind on, and him trying to suck your soul out of your tit.

For some reason i felt like i had to share this with you.

I am so glad you shared this with me my bby! My first JJK ask I could cry!!

Here’s some very gentle Sukuna for you ❤️

He doesn’t come to you often, the king of curses, yet most nights you find yourself waiting for him.

Not a soul knows about your strange guest. Every shared breath is trapped between you and him in a silent lovers promise. The people in your village would be frightened, and admittedly you thought it was a sign of an impending apocalypse when you first saw him, stood at the end of your sleeping pad. Impossibly tall, four arms muscle bound and ringed with the blackest ink, his red eyes had gazed at you through the velvet darkness, seeking and searching for something unknown.

He smelt of death wrapped in a smile, cinders and ashes against the heaviest amber. Intoxicating, it made your head swim, all thoughts muddied and confused like the banks of a river after heavy rains. Perhaps that was part of his strange charm, the heady drunkenness you feel in his presence, enough arrogance to drown in and a wide mouth that curls across pointed, sharp teeth.

Still, the power he holds over you, over the lands your people farm daily, is enough to encourage you to spread your thighs for him. To give the monster softness, somewhere gentle to rest for a few hours before he disappears into the mists again. You would be lying if you said it was just that through. He’s insatiable, hungry and brimming with furious need, but beyond that there’s a curious softness displayed only to you and no other. For you are chosen, special above all humans. Marked in a way that leaves no room for argument.

Dreamlike, the low moon paints everything in a blue cast, cool and dappled through the thin walls of your room. The nights are drawing in, a chill settling over the forests and mountains surrounding the small place you know as home. Your breath is steady, a little tug of the sheets to cover your shoulder. Then you hear it, the creak of the wood under his heavy feet, a scent of smoke clinging to the midnight air.

Sitting up, you’re confronted by the full breadth of him, chest rising and falling rapidly with the promise of what’s to come. He tilts his head, cat like. Those duplicate crimson eyes blinking lazily at you, dark lashes fanned under them.

Quietly you shrink from under the soft cotton, inviting him closer without needing to speak. His nose twitches as he inhales, a smile curving across his broad mouth until his sharp teeth snare his bottom lip.

“So eager. Did you miss me?” Voice a low rumble, thunder purring beneath the surface of it, Sukuna regards you. There’s something burning in his face, a hunger that he’s never able to satisfy when it comes to you, so pliant and weak in his wide palms and under the bite of his canines.

Your response is a nod, shy and timid as it’s been months since you last welcomed him into your bed. The jet coloured markings across his body seem to grow darker, framing a jawline cut like glass. He lets out a low purr, padding towards your mattress while his stare narrows, taking in the flesh ripe for him, your body the only altar that’s ever seen a being like Sukuna sink to his knees. Your mouth meets his, hot and heavy, never the gentle soft kisses you expect from a moonlit visitor. His tongue flicks against yours almost at once, so greedy, wholly devoid of propriety or valour.

Sukuna pins your body beneath his vast one, lower arms making short work of your night clothes as he dominates your lips, sucking until they tingle and bruise under him. His upper hands find purchase in your hair, tugging your face closer still roughly, winding against your scalp until you let out a whine of protest.

When your eyes flutter open he’s watching you, both pairs zeroed in on your expression, as his broad lower palms grip the meat of your hips.

“Don’t be rough.” You whisper. It’s a strange feeling, understanding that no other could ever demand a thing from him without receiving instant death in result. He’s still holding your locks tightly, forcing your throat close to his grinning mouth. Sukuna doesn’t look angry, instead he seems faintly surprised, probably because the nature of your relationship has been mainly carnal as opposed to intellectual.

“I know no other way.”

His voice is husky, strained even. So carefully you run your own fingers across shoulders bound by ridged strength. He purrs again, this time lower and far more gentle.

You jump slightly as a droplet of saliva hits your stomach, threading its way along the skin of your navel. The mouth on his torso matches his grin, the huge tongue lolling and seeking out the hot scent of your tight cunt. Wantonly you angle your hips up to meet it, allowing it purchase on your mound until the wetness trickles lower and you whimper at the feeling.

Sukuna lets out a noise of fierce approval, rearing up to slot your pussy against his torso, watching the way his tongue immediately dives into the heat of your core, the thick muscle lathing unforgiving strokes along your seams.

“Fuck!” He exhales, lowered eyes closing briefly with ecstasy, pale pink hair bleached white in the low light. “My little human whore did miss me then.”

Always darkly possessive, Sukuna’s thick fingers bite harshly into your thighs, spreading you wide as his lower mouth traces circles on your clit. Gasping, you grip his forearms, feeling the tendons bunch and release beneath his skin. Lights start to pop under your eyes, knees shaking so violently it makes him laugh. A vicious chuckle without any shred of sympathy. Without warning his upper set of hands find your throat, tugging you upwards and into the safe embrace of his lower limbs. You moan at that, wrenched away from the pulse of his broad tongue, the spit mixing with your slick is so viscous it drenches the mat beneath you.

Sukuna lets a tsk out at your moans. Clicking his teeth as you struggle to collect yourself, so close and yet so far from the sweet release you’ve craved.

“On my cocks, or not at all.” Face to face his whirling stare glimmers, lids heavy with the need to sink inside you.

He spits onto one palm, wrapping an arm around you and probing your tight, puckered hole. Massaging and rubbing until he can slip one thick finger in and then two. Vaguely you realise he’s showing kindness in his own way, lessening the intensity of having to take one of his shafts without any preparation.

You can feel them, heavy and dripping with creamy pre-spend as they rest between your legs. Sukuna draws you up closer to him, binding your arms tight to your sides and sliding his cocks between your thighs, coating himself in wetness until a rasping groan leaves the back of his throat.

“So fucking drenched.” Briefly his tattooed forehead rests against yours, like he’s struggling to master himself. Then with no warning, he’s breaching your body, cocks probing and parting your sticky flesh until you almost feel them in your throat. It’s almost too much, you’re so full of him, his scent clinging to your skin and filling your nose like incense. You push backwards against his chest, asking for patience, for some distraction from the burning stretch of him.

“Shhh.” His mouth finds the shell of your ear, warm air making you shiver as he opens you up for himself. That vast mouth on his stomach finds your clit again and you keen, sympathetically rolling your hips as you seek the right amount of pressure to bring yourself down from the ledge of overstimulation. It doesn’t take long for you to grow bolder, digging your nails into his marked back, begging for a movement on his side that will send you tipping off the precipice of perfection.

“Beg me.” His coarse, deep voice sounds far away as he starts to meet your feeble thrusts with the power of his own hips. “Beg me to let you cum.”

“Pp-lease!” You stammer without pausing to think. “Please my lord!”

Sukuna groans into your hair, lower arms still holding you tightly while his weighty palm contracts around your throat. He’s fucking you now without holding back, sinking deep until you drench his balls, the tongue beneath his mouth moving ceaselessly.

“Milk my cocks then, remind me how a human whore does it! Now!”

The command of his voice is final, your body is well trained to it. You cum hard, shattering around him as you choke out a cry, voice box pressed hard under his fingers. He doesn’t let up in his rhythm, but you feel him throbbing inside you, both cocks pulsing as you constrict. The pain of his bite to your neck only fuels the fire, and you lose count of how long he’s been buried within your cunt and ass, filling you to the brim with his potent seed.

When morning comes, he’s gone again. Only leaving the lingering smell of charcoal on your sheets.

Maybe you dreamt it, but you’re sure you felt someone pressing sweet kisses over your collarbone in the early haze of morning. When you wake you’re tucked up tightly, like he’s made sure to protect you from the cold even in his absence. A dainty, blood red flower sits on your pillow, leaves vibrant against the snow white linen.

Perhaps not such a monster after all.

He’s a big softy.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

"i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." for Victor

Destroy this boy with a flirty letter ;)

Picking up postman and squeezing him like a squeaky toy lol

Rated: Mature | Warning: none

Rarely does anyone send letters between each other, a few times a letter is sent from a hunter to a survivor but none send a letter among the same faction. Postman, Victor, apprentices you using the pen and paper to communicate with him. When you first met him, he would shy away from you, energetic as Luca, he barely could keep up. Then one day you started using your hands to make strange gestures.

“Helena taught me sign language so I can talk to you!” The joy on your face as you thought you created a bridge between him and yourself. You did but not the way you thought. Victor is mute, selectively mute, and he prefers the words on paper rather than verbal words.

The first letter you sent was mostly rambling about the day as you did not see that whole day due to matches and the occasional break to recuperate before once again going to a match.

The second letter asks him questions. Colors, food, a season, anything you could think of that is not invasive. Victor answers them while slipping in a few details you did not ask about him in order to seem more open. You matched it as you spoke about things before you came to the manor.

Then the letters between you both became a common way for you two to communicate until Victor, in his room with you, spoke softly. A small ‘thank you’ had you in tears of joy as he trusted you. Few can claim that— Literally three people outside of yourself.

And as the bond between you both grew so did feelings that started being expressed in the letters. His words are gentle, dancing around cautiously; while yours are to the point and announce your interest.

As someone from a time ahead of his, Victor felt it made things easier.

What is not easy is how you flirt so casually without shame or fear, people of your time move fast compared to his time.

The letter in his hand is held in a furious grip before closing it and facing it down; his face is red as he cannot move his eyes up to look at you across the dining table. Your foot rubs his calf, nearly making him jump.

A simple few words have his mind scrambling: I'm not wearing any underwear. Thought you should know. Love, (Name).

You smile at him, your fork playing with your food. Luca is beside you talking to Andrew and Aesop, all of them distracted while you are playing footsies under the table with Victor.

“Are you okay, V?” The nickname you gave him, “You feeling sick?” How can you see that while your foot is rubbing his crotch through his pants!? He should close his legs but… That look in your eyes is drawing him in.

“Your face looks flush,” Comments Andrew, “Maybe you should rest.” It makes sense given Victor has been in back-to-back duo matches recently. Those are a headache.

“Good idea!” Luca chimes in, “(Name), can you take him?”

“Of course.” Smiling as you get up from your seat, “You guys take care.” You place a small kiss on Lucas's cheek and Victor is standing up grateful for his uniform covering his lower half. The Postman waves goodbye before you tug him away out of the dining room.

Aesop watches the two leave before looking at Luca who is smiling too much, “You know something.”

“Maybe.” He does and completely changes the subject.

Victor pins you against his door with his hands on your shoulders, his eyes on you as his brows are knit together, “Are you really?” Low but you hear it.

“Yes, I'm not lying.”

The Postman should have known since you are wearing a skirt, yes, a skirt. You hate skirts! You complain about them especially when in a match. Yet, here you are in a long skirt in his room… Without underwear.

“Show me.” An edge to his sweet voice, his eyes and head tilting down.

You grin, “Okay.” Grabbing the middle of the skirt and lifting until you hear that gasp of surprise and cool air on your exposed lower regions. “Victor?”

He swallows loudly, “Can I?” His one hand off your shoulder, “May I?”

“Of course, this is for you.”

You might have underestimated Victor. You expected to be the one guiding and in control, dominant but gentle. No, Victor took over with his mouth on yours, a leg between your legs, and his hand that has your hands gripping the back of his uniform. His mouth never leaves yours, the sharp intake of air only when you both are dizzy, and you are the one making the most noise.

There are sweet whispers between kisses, those three words that have you begging him to touch you more.

Both of you barely get to the bed, fumbling a bit to strip, tripping and falling on one another but luckily on the bed.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

hello!! I'm the one who asked the question about when temp 5 will come out recently, I just wanted to ask, how are you feeling? Has sometimes the pressure from your audience or inconsiderate people who don't think that a human being is doing this made you want to abandon the project? Sometimes I fear that at some point people will end up breaking you and you will abandon everything :( (again, Sorry if there are errors or this just sounds strange, I'm using a translator!!)

Hello! I don't know quite which anon you are, because actually, MANY people ask me about season 5 almost every day - but I am hoping to get it ready soon. Maybe by the end of December? Right now, I'm still drawing some new chapters.

To tell the truth, I haven't actually ever considered QUITTING full out.

Many people have definitely come very close to pissing me off - there are some 10 years olds hanging around that have way too little chores to do, and instead end up using their energy to send me messages:

(shout out to this tenacious child who sent me not one but 14 messages just like this one) ....buuuut I usually don't think about just stopping the comic

Most of the time, I just think 'I want to stop posting on tumblr/tapas, and just post on Patreon, where people are nicer'.

The thing is, I still WANT to make this comic. I love this story, and want to continue it, so to quit completely would be sad for me as well, not only you guys.

Most likely, if my patience ever snaps, I'll probably just stop posting the comic publicly, that's all. And instead, the only way to read it would be to join my Patreon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But hopefully we never come to that. Because I want to keep sharing it with everyone!

[castleofclouds]

NCT Dream as your exes.

In which you and dreamies broke up and how they act after breaking up from you, this story heavily inspired by my TBDE series, go check it out! I need this story to be knows and continues tbh :')

Songs recommend ;

MARK.

When it comes to break up, Mark isn't an expertise, he knew nothing about how to cope with break up, he either spend time crying on every movie ending or he just ended up spending too much time getting you out of his minds, he loved listening to your favorite songs and playlists that you shared with him in hope you still think of him every time you see your playlist, or any songs you both used to listen to, he felt scared to watch any romance movies for a while because he can't help himself to be jealous, why do they get a good ending? While both of you aren't? He hated the idea of romance, and that's bad for him, why? Because he spends all of his life learning about love and romance, how can he hated them now?

RENJUN.

If there's someone more denial than Renjun, they lied. Because he is the more denial person on the earth, he said he didn't care where are you now, with who you have been right now, how have you been, he would spend everyday looking at his message box wishing there's at least a simple text from you, if he could he would spend all of his days seeing your account, one time someone tried to flirt with you on the comments of your post, he gives the poor man a whole text about how he didn't have a chance, he would often draw you, even when he is busy he could still remember every little small things, like how you like your sweets or how you like your latte taste like.

JENO.

Jeno were different, he looks totally fine for most of the days, he looks like someone who are totally fine without you, his life still continued, with or without your presence, but that's mostly lasted for a few weeks before he started missing your presence, he found himself purchasing your favorite scent and sprayed all over his house just to feel you are still his, even after he met new people, he still feels your lingering touch behind his neck, he felt like you would always come back at him and hug him tight like you always do, calling his names when in needs, but nothing, his bed felt strangely cold, he miss you at last.

HAECHAN.

He felt like he did you so wrong, guilty kept him by night every time he remembered, he felt like nightmare every time he thinks about how you two broke up, his house felt like it wasn't his, but yours, so many miniatures of yours in here, your mug that you left untouched, you favorite hair clip, your cute teddy bear, everything remind him of you, every time he tried to talk to you, you always ended it short, even after he moved he felt like his house were always gonna be yours. You are always welcomed as you always were.

JAEMIN.

for most case, Jaemin doesn't knew what he had missing, because he already went through the most heartbreaking break up before, well, not actually break up, but his partner left him wounded so he doesn't think breaking up with you was any worse, well he couldn't be more wrong, he never felt this empty in his life, he always found himself talking to your shadows as if you are still next to him but you weren't and he felt more dissapointed by that, he would always enjoy small things you both like, he found himself looking at your photo album more than he thinks he would, every time he cried he would talk to your photo, wishing you can talk to him again.

CHENLE.

Chenle thinks what happened are for the best, then why do he felt like he regretted it the more days passed? He found himself to be more productive, he would always start practicing the first and left the field at last minute, every time he walk back to his apartment, he wished he could send you all of the new things he found in China, why do he thinks he can live without you? He sighed at that thought, he should've asked for continuing this relationship, but rice had been a porridge, what happened had happened and he couldn't do anything about it.

JISUNG.

He hated you, more than he thinks he would, but do he have to do this? Breaking up? It is hurting him, but without you it's more hurting, every time he thinks it's what's the best for the both of you he would reconsider his thought again, sometimes he wished he could just hate you, but he can't, he would spend times on his balcony wishing to falling stars to always keep you save and both of you can meet again, when his feelings had gone, and you had continued with your life. As he wished to every stars to keep you save wherever you were staying.

Masterlist.

A/N.

so hello, missed making this fun reaction things, or scenarios? I just post a new series in my account, and I'm happy many people like it, y'all are the best 🥺 but if yall want more just click at the top, you will find my masterlist to TBDE series, because you I continue write again after YEARS not back to here, but I missed making this kinda thing, I kinda have some draft on the TBDE series too, so be sure to follow the series to understand the meaning of this scenarios! Btw TBDE is actually shorter for To All The Boys I've Dated Before, so it's kinda make senses if I make this don't I? Writing about this as I listen to Lauv, I love Lauv tbh, he is my second favorite artist beside Ariana Grande, I need more Mean It kinda songs tbh, I need to get that ANGSTY mood because writing about TBDE making me realise I don't have the quality of making angst :') anybody would love to teach me?

[esmedelacroix]

Coffee Shop Love Pt.6

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, fluffy, not proofread, literally the fluffiest of fluffs, a little drama at the end

author's note: Hey lovies, whoo! Two chapters today! Consider it my apology for being so inactive lately. But don't worry loves I'm back on track. A like, comment, or repost is always appreciated. Hope you like this chapter, the cliffhanger not so much >.<, enjoy...

word count: 1.5k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

That morning you were so lost in the ridiculous amount of people coming for coffee that you didn't even realize that Miguel hadn't shown up that morning. "Which is so weird because he always comes for coffee in the morning, sometimes again midday then he comes at night and stays a while," you explained to Estella over muffins and Earl Grey tea.

"Alright girl, first of all, why are you this worried about it? It's probably nothing," Estella reassured.

"It can't be nothing, we slept together days ago when the blizzard happened, and he cuddled multiple times!" you exclaimed, as Estella almost choked on her drink.

"You had sex?!" she blurted out shockingly.

"No, no we just like, slept in the same bed, my bed," you muttered, trying to draw the attention away from the two of you.

"Wait, I'm confused, why was he even in your house?!" she questioned.

You explained the whole situation with the amber alert and filled her in on the day that you had spent with Miguel. The more you explained, the more her jaw dropped.

"Wait, now I'm confused, what is your relationship with him?" Estella asked, taking a bite out of a muffin.

"I'm not even sure, we've had this strange chemistry ever since we met," you explained.

"I'd say give a day or two maybe he's like, at work, or living his life?" she joked sarcastically.

"I'm gonna kill you, Estella! Get out of my shop!" you joked as you pushed her out. She laughed along and waved before heading back to the shelter where she worked.

Your break was over and the lunch rush was just about to happen. Still no Miguel, you were starting to wonder if you had done something wrong. No, it makes no sense to think that way, I know I did nothing. I wonder if he misses me this much as well, you thought to yourself as you began to make people's orders.

The day went by very slowly. You sat by the counter at 8 pm, chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue drooped your head down. Just then the bells rang. Your head shot up immediately hoping there would be a tall, dark, and handsome man standing there before you. But it was just Mr. Smith. Probably here to collect the rent. "Good Evening Baby, I've come here for something, but I forget what it is... maybe a drink?" he trails off as he looks up at the menu.

"No Mr. Smith, you're here for the rent. It's too late for you to have coffee," you explained. He smiled and nodded.

"That's right dear, silly me," he said. You handed him an envelope with the rent for the month and waved goodbye after sending him off with a candy cane.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you plopped into a chair and waited to see if Miguel would show up. Why do I miss him so much? What are my feelings for him? You asked yourself as you got up to lock up.

That night you slept wishing to see Miguel walk through those doors in the morning. But to no avail, he didn't show up that morning, or for lunch, or that night. You opened your phone for any notifications from him but nothing. You gave him a call but his phone was turned off. You decide to leave him a voicemail.

"Hey Miguel, It's been a while since we've seen each other. The shop’s really boring without you here, come by for a coffee soon, I know you can't go a single day without having like 3 cups, I miss you, and I'm pretty sure I like you" you said. You had no idea where that last part came from and you fumbled to delete it somehow but what was done was done. You hoped that he wouldn't listen to it. Besides he was a businessman he had better things to do.

That night you slept wondering where he was and why he would come see you. He was cuddling you one day, then you never saw him. Does he like me, or does he not? You asked yourself. You allowed your mind to rest and went to sleep.

The next morning you got through the rush just fine and went on break while mentally preparing yourself for the lunch rush. Miguel was nowhere to be seen but you didn't panic as much as the days before. You had hoped that maybe he would show up tonight and you would scold him for disappearing without notice.

So as you lay your head on the counter bored out of your mind, the shop bells rang. You headshot up as usual and there you saw him. Tall, dark, handsome, and stuck in the mistletoe again. "I told you, you have to get a taller door frame," he joked as walked in. You chuckled at his joke holding yourself back from rushing to him and hugging him.

"Where have you been Miguel?" you asked him softly, unable to wipe the upside-down smile off your face.

"Surprisingly enough, the second I walked into work I was rushed onto a last-minute retreat at another lab. It's one of those classified things where we turn our phones off. I'm sorry I could let you know Baby," he said softly.

"It's no problem, but this other lab... was it nice? Good coffee?" you asked skeptically.

"Yeah, it was alright—" Miguel started.

"Ha! I knew it! Miguel, have you been seeing another barista?" you jokingly asked him. Just then she heard a low sound break the silence between them. He had never fully laughed around her, but once she heard it, it was music to her ears. I would become a stand-up comedian if it meant hearing this beautiful laugh all day, you thought to yourself.

"Oh Baby, I've missed you so much," he confessed with a few chuckles.

"Alright then, sit down and lemme make you a coffee that will top whatever you drank at that 'other lab'," you said motioning for him to take a seat at his usual table.

Instead of taking his laptop out and getting straight to work, he just watched you. He watched you make the most simple but best coffee he had ever tasted. Once he took a sip, it felt like home. "This is that special brew you used at your place isn't it?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Yeah, I figured since you liked it so much, I would make you a nice big cup of it," you explained as you took a seat across from him.

You and Miguel caught each other up on the events that had passed while you were apart. Miguel couldn't stop talking about how much he learned at this fancy schmancy lab he visited with Alchemax in Washington D.C. and how much he learned about quantum physics. You didn't understand half of the terms he was using but that didn't matter because at least he was having a good time. Seeing him talking about something he was passionate about set fireworks off in your chest. You filled him in on the usual Café gossip and drama that was going on.

It was a lovely night of shared laughs and stories but it had to come to an end at some point. Just when he was about to leave you decided to ask him about the voicemail you had sent. "Miguel, did you ever listen to my voicemail?" you asked.

"No, I didn't have the time, should I?" he answered.

"No, just delete it. What I said was pretty embarrassing," you admitted.

"Well now I’m dying to hear it," he teased.

"Oh please don't," you whined.

"Too late!" he called out as he stepped out to his car and visibly pressed the button.

You begged God to allow the earth to swallow you whole and just began to wipe the counter. Just then the door swung open with violent speed and the bells rang crazily. You turned around to see Miguel out of breath holding his phone in one hand, running his hand through his hair with the other. "Baby?" he huffed completely out of breath from running back to the store the second he heard the voicemail.

"Did you mean what you said in that voicemail?" he asked in disbelief.

"I mean, yeah, I guess, but—" you started. But Miguel held his hand up for you to stop. you took that sudden motion as defeat. He doesn't think the same way, you realize in complete despair.

Next Pt.7...

taglist:

@iite-cool@jewelz-teehe@br0-please@thesilenthill@d1lf-loverrr@corpsebridenightamare@laysmt@bitchystrawberrystudent@lotionlamp@local-mr-frog@scaleniusrm@migueloharastruelove@thedevax@veyveys@amber-content

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Prophecy (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Disobedience has consequences. You learn it the hard way.

Warnings: Finally the chapter that marks this fic as dark. Forced nudity. SA. Groping a person under coercion. Low blood pressure. Cursing. General Daemon being nasty.

A/N: Please keep in mind Daemon is not an objective narrator. I do not support his views. Remember, he has a wrapped perception of reality. And if you find yourself urged to send me nasty asks, or comment awful things, I will remind you that I warned you.

Previous parts here.

It’s not often that Daemon finds himself in such a dilemma. Not often, either, he decides to think before he acts. Violence comes easily to him. The best method of conflict resolution, and one that has certainly brought great benefits to House Targaryen through the ages.

Yet, this matter requires more delicacy. It’s his wife, who he is thinking about. And while Daemon might push you around, perhaps hold you down a little, he is not one for hurting women in such a way. This topic requires silk gloves instead of gauntleted fists.

Daemon likes to think the impulsiveness of youth has already left him, but knows himself too well to not recognize he is lying to himself. While he is no longer a flamboyant young man, the urge to have a fit of rage remains. He has gotten better at controlling it, but the dragon still roars and shifts on his chest, begging to be unchained.

He needs to soothe his nerves. Daemon sends for a Dornish red, if only to numb himself a little. The stronger the best, in his opinion. While some men get belligerent when drunk, Daemon it’s not one of them. Alcohol tends to take the edge off, loosen his tongue and inhibitions, but fails to cloud him with the red mist affronts on his pride do.

Daemon doesn’t want to hurt you. He repeats it to himself, over and over again. Not hurt you, not hurt you, not hurt you, not…. He takes one look at your pitiful form and suddenly, it’s easier.

You make quite the pitiful figure on the floor of your chambers. You have never taken a beating in your life and it shows. Curled on yourself on top of a rug and cradling your injured shoulder as best as you can with bound wrists. The whip didn’t even draw blood, but you acted as if it was the worst injury you had suffered in your short life. Every once in a while, you let out a tiny, frightened sniffle, before looking at him to make sure he has not heard you.

His proud, proud little dragon. Thinking a few tears might make you less. Daemon pretends to be oblivious to your little sobs, just to watch you sigh in relief at the lack of reaction. It’s starting to amuse him, turning into a game. Moving his head just so as you sniffle, or reaching for an object, just to see you freeze.

He quits it before the wine arrives. While he often enjoys putting the fear of the Gods on others, it’s not really enjoyable when it’s you. There is something strange curling in his stomach at your tears, something painfully akin to discomfort.

Daemon dislikes righteous people. Viserys gets enough on his nerves as it is. Pretending to have the moral high ground is for the weak, in his opinion. And the stupid. And the reckless. Stepping between a servant and a whip was certainly recklessly stupid on your part. Daemon would never. Not even for Viserys. Perhaps for Rhaenyra, given that she was a woman and needed protection.

Still, when you were the one doing it, he stopped finding it recklessly stupid and found it a little charming and brave. What a troublesome thought. Distressing, in truth. Is he starting to develop a conscience? Or worse, are you growing on him?

Daemon sneers. He has to put a halt to this. Show you who is really in control.

“Speak your terms, little fool.” He sits down on your bed, looking around the room. There are little comforts, and none he feels like taking away from you.

There are a few books, stacked in piles near the bed. You seem to be in the process of reading them, which surprises Daemon. He had been vaguely aware of your ability to read, unusual for a bastard girl. He had figured Rhea had taught you because while she might have been a bitch, she was a proud one. She was a Royce from Runestone, not a Baratheon fool. She wouldn’t have her heir running around without knowing her letters.

The most surprising part is not that you are trying to read the books, but the fact that you are actually making progress. There are a few parchments tucked in, with some terrible attempts at penmanship on them. As if you were slowly decoding them. To actually try to learn High Valyrian on your own spoke of a dedication he was not aware you possessed.

Throwing the books in your chambers had been more of an ambience choice for Daemon. When he had thought about decorating your living space, putting books on High Valyrian had seemed like the obvious choice. A little dreamer, with her Valyrian clothes and surrounded by her little temple, needed books in High Valyrian. It was only right.

Everything was as it should be. Daemon finally had his Valyrian bride. Besides, it didn't matter if you didn’t know how to read them, when he could do so without any hardship. He had figured that if you were a boring lay, he could always turn to the books for entertainment.

Lay. Hm. Perhaps taking the bed would teach you there were worse fates in this world than being the wife of a Prince. But Daemon could already see in his mind’s eye your pouty face. You would whine, and give him your sad puppy look…. Oh, Seven Hells! What was wrong with him? Was he turning into a soft fool, like Viserys had been for Aemma?

Daemon had had plenty of pouty mistresses in the past. In fact, it was a prerequisite of the position. Any woman he took to bed had to be able to get her way via a few well-placed pouts. They knew he had a weakness for it. None had affected him as you.

Besides, you could have nightmares. Or sleep badly. Which was not right, for a dreamer.

“I… I could tell you another secret.” You look up at him, all big sad eyes. It makes something in him jerk. Something stands at attention with the urge to comfort. Daemon doesn’t like it.

“Is that what the girl’s life is worth to you?” And he was not planning on whipping the girl to death, but you don’t know that. The panic in your eyes doesn’t fill him with as much satisfaction as he hoped. Is this some sort of domesticity trap? No. Daemon needs to crack down on you, hard. This cannot keep going. You have denied him too much. “I could easily get that from you by force.”

“You could get anything from me by force.” Defiance. How cute. You look like an angry kitten, more than a real threat. Your eyes are narrowed at him, and he feels the urge to laugh. “What do you want?”

“I dislike your tone, Wife.” In truth, it’s a good question. What does he want? Daemon barely knows it himself. It used to be Rhaenyra. When he couldn’t have that, he had thought maybe Lady Laena was enough. She was pretty, young and would birth him strong Valyrian children. But while he had planned to marry her, and felt aroused by the prospect of bedding her, he didn’t feel the urge to please her as he did with you. Probably, if Daemon had married her, he would have made her miserable with little care. Like he is making you.

What does he want? What does he want?

“You like baths, do you not?” As if struck by inspiration. He would call it divine, were it not for the fact Daemon knows he was forsaken a long time ago.

“I do? What does it have to do with anything?” You give him a confused look.

Daemon smirks. He is not sure what else from you he wants, but for now, the idea of getting close to your naked, wet body, is enough.

“No.” You mutter.

“Or I could just kill the whore. Your choice, Dreamer. What’s going to be?”

Not an hour later, Daemon sits in a scorching hot bath, naked. You sit between his legs, still dressed in one of your shifts, turned transparent by the water. Unchained, for once.

The glow happiness gives you is unmatched. You look deliriously happy in the hot water, talking so fast he can barely keep along. At first, you had been shy, but when he had leaned back, allowing you more space in the tub, you had blossomed.

You had been humming under your breath, but when he made no move to censor you, you had started talking. The words were low, almost to yourself. As if you had almost forgotten he was there. Daemon made no move to remind you, answering to your ramblings with a few well-placed grunts and noncommittal hums.

“…. And I have really been trying to keep all the grime off my hair, but I really miss sulfates, you know? And conditioner. Oh my god, conditioner! You have no idea how hard it is to detangle my hair.”

“Here.” Daemon passes you a comb, lips twitching. He doesn't want to smile at your antics, but there is something really endearing about it. Even if he barely understands a word you are saying. Is he getting old? Are conditioners something you used to have at the whorehouse? And don’t even get him started on the tunes you were humming earlier. He had never heard them, not even in the most raunchy of ale houses. “When you are done, lean back and be quiet.”

You frown. Your mouth opens and closes, as if you are about to be argumentative. It’s one of his favorite looks on you, to be honest, but it’s starting to become a little annoying. This is not an experience to get you to practice your rusty social skills, but to put you in your place.

No matter how much he enjoys seeing you open up to him, Daemon can’t lose the opportunity to finally get you to submit.

“What was the girl's name?” It's only a simple phrase, but it works like a charm at shutting you up. Your body language shifts in the blink of an eye. Your shoulders curl in, defensive, and you start brushing your hair. The strokes are harsh and punishing.

If you want to do his job for him, Daemon will not stop you.

“You just have to accept your place.” He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out regardless. It's the truth. If you just stopped fighting and stopped getting huffy about all sorts of things, it would be much easier. He could have you out of these cuffs, by his side. You just had to accept you were his.

Daemon places a hand over your shoulder blades and rubs a circle. The feeling of the wet shift is unbearable. He would much rather be touching your bare skin, but you had started pouting and huffing and mentioning Rhea, then Aemma… The night was already too charged to insist on it.

“My place? My place! The sheer audacity of you!” You jerk away from his touch, trying to get out of the tub. Daemon curls his arm around your waist and tugs back, hard. You are sent back into the tub, upsetting the water that splashes everywhere. Ah. Well, some servant will clean it, later.

Unwilling to lose his advantage, he perches his head on your shoulder. He nuzzles the crook of your shoulder, towards your neck. The scent of your skin is intoxicating, clean, and sweet. He likes that you smell exactly how he wanted you too.

Maybe those Seven Pointed cunts were onto something. Marriage was truly a delight. No whore smelt this sweet for him, not even when he gave them the exact perfumes he wanted them to wear. They lack the sweet smell of innocence that gushes out of your pores.

“Why don't you take this off?” Daemon tugs at the shift, despite your distressed whine. This is punishment, after all. No matter how enjoyable he intends it to be, a little fear will make the lesson stick. He can do anything to you, and it’s time you remember it. “And let me rub some rose oil on your wrists?”

“No.” Your lower lip wobbles. Pouting? Again? It's like it's his name day or something. No one told him it would be so pleasurable, teaching an impudent little chit to behave. Because this is more than just about his pleasure, and both of you know it. This is a power struggle, a way to finally get it to sink into your little head. You are never escaping him.

There is something enjoyable about breaking women, Daemon muses. A certain appeal. Getting them to accept their natural place in the world, getting you to submit… It sounds like the stuff of his fantasies.

It has to be done carefully, so you do not realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Other men, less skilled in the ways of pleasure, might think the ways of getting a woman like you to do their bidding have to be violent. Daemon is too proud for it.

It’s a battle of wills. And Daemon will not lose. He knows he is skilled at seduction. All seduction starts with an unwilling victim; otherwise it is not seduction. Still, when you test his temper, like tonight, he does feel some violent urges. Perhaps bending you over and taking you without mercy would leave you much more agreeable.

“Come on. Looks uncomfortable. Wet cloth clinging to you all over and getting cold.” Daemon coaxes, gently kissing your jaw. He maps the path towards your ear with his tongue, blowing slightly to watch the goosebumps rise on your skin.

Your pretty features scrunch up, in a delicious mix of pleasure, confusion, and betrayal. Maidens. How fun it was teaching them the ways of pleasure. Always so concerned about being proper and meek, of not appearing too wanton. But Daemon knew the truth about you. You were the blood of the dragon, just like him.

You burned for him. Daemon would bet, if he were to slip his hand between your soft thighs, he would find you wet and ready to be taken. Virgins were like that, after all. It only took a few skilled touches and their bodies were ready, even if their minds were not.

He doesn’t want to take you, tonight. Just explore the crevices of your body a little, understand you better. Daemon can be patient. If he riles you up enough for it, he is sure you will come to him thinking it’s on your own terms.

He pulls at your shift, slowly starting to lift it. You don't notice at first, too lost in the confusing feelings his lips are inciting. Daemon keeps his hand on your thigh, slowly gathering the fabric up until his fingertips brush bare skin.

He keeps it up, fingertips drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your thighs, your hips. You are so soft, skin plump and smooth. Daemon wants to grab you hard, until you bruise. See his hands digging into your thighs, watching the flesh shift under his grip. But he doesn't.

He doesn't because the moment his hand touches your hip bone, you jolt. You buck under him, all wild mare, trying to get him to unhand you.

“At ease, wife.” Daemon whispers in your ear. “I won't hurt you.”

“I don't want…” You start trying to pull the shift down. He bats at your hands, but you squirm too much to let him keep enjoying it. Anger builds up in him, anger and a certain cruelty. Who are you, to deny him what’s his? As your husband, he has a right to your body. He has been much more patient than other men would be in his circumstances.

The urge to get you to roll over and show your belly, so to speak, is too strong to help it. You are starting to remind him of the worst parts of Rhea, and that can’t be allowed to happen. You are meant to be his delicate little dreamer, not some Bronze Bitch.

So, he leans in, to whisper in your ear.

“Mia… Mary… No. Mina.” Daemon takes your earlobe into his mouth, sucking lightly. You go deadly quiet, all fight gone. He gets to take your shift off, and he groans. Better than he had dared to hope.

Your body is soft. All smooth skin, bared for him to see. Your breasts are a worthy pair, and look firm enough. You have hips and a stomach that look like they could stand a pregnancy well. He finds himself growing excited by the prospect of watching your hips and breasts become fuller, once he gets you pregnant with his heir.

Under the excuse of cleaning you, he starts rubbing at your arms, curious about how far you will let him push. He strokes your collarbones, then your chest. Not groping, barely skimming his fingers over your sensitive nipples. Daemon is enchanted by the almost silent sighs you let out, how you fight and surrender to a pleasure that is clearly so new to you.

Daemon kisses your ear, slowly making out with the shell of it. You struggle against him, trying to get away, but your mouth parts in overwhelmed pleasure. It only takes a few more well-placed licks for you to surrender to the pleasure of it all.

His hands stroke your hips. Then, slowly, towards your inner thighs. Slowly, his cock fattens and begins to ache. Daemon pays it no mind. If he were, you may spook and be brought off the trance you are in. You might oppose resistance.

How he longs to roll his hips against yours, to bury himself deep inside your eager little hole. He knows you would suck him right in. And you would be so warm, just short of scorching hot inside. So soft, too. Perhaps, if he was lucky, when the time came, Daemon would get to pin your hands, so you couldn’t muffle any of the delicious moans that would surely escape you.

As for right now, he likes how quiet you are. Too often, whores will moan loudly in his ear, hoping to provoke a reaction. Somehow, it never works. His cock doesn’t react to that as it does to the way you fight to keep your little sighs quiet. Perhaps one day he will teach you to be unashamed, but right now, the quietness speaks of a modesty lowborns lack.

It’s good enough, Daemon decides. He has enough with pressing his hardened member to your lower back, with having you all flustered. The memories will allow him more than a few pleasant tugs at his cock, later on. The face you make as he scratches at your inner thighs will haunt his dreams for many nights to come.

He can’t help but be greedy, though. How far will you let him push? Will you let him look at the real prize? He lathers his hand with a bit of soap, and slips it between your thighs.

You speak then. Shame. He always liked looking at maiden’s cunnys. The anticipation is very enjoyable. Looking at those tiny holes and thinking how he is about to break them, force them to take more than they are ready for. Watching them cry, watching their expressions turn from pain to pleasure.

“Rhaenyra’s firstborn will be called Jacaerys.” You take his hands in yours and interlock your fingers. It’s a subtle thing. A way to derail him without openly denying him. Daemon likes that you are learning fast.

“Jacaerys? That’s not a Targaryen name.” His interest is genuine. Knowing the future fascinates him. It’s not something he has thought about before, more centered on the past of his house and his present. But getting a glimpse of the future is tantalizing. What will happen to him, in ten years, in twenty? To you?

He lifts your hand and checks your pulse, under the pretense of rubbing some oil into your abused wrists. It races beneath your skin, scared little bird that you are. Despite your awful behavior today, Daemon might get you softer cuffs. Or keep you in these, but release you from time to time. Under his careful supervisor, of course.

“Is it not? It sounds similar to that word, the one you use for Caraxes to breathe fire.” Your voice comes out a little shaky, but you are getting better at pretending not to be scared. Or perhaps you are not scared anymore. Whatever it is, it pleases him.

“Dracarys?” Daemon asks, amused. It sounds similar, but it's not spelled the same way at all. He kisses your temple. His smart, pretty girl, slowly getting interested in her heritage.

“That’s the one.”

“I think it’s a Velaryon name. Why would she allow it, though?” Sure, Rhaenyra was married to a Velaryon, but why did she break tradition so? Daemon had thought her a true Targaryen, like him. It made no sense. She was supposed to understand just how precious their blood was, how special. They had a legacy and centuries of tradition to uphold, and his niece would throw it all away? What was next, naming a child something as common as Robert?

“The boy will have dark hair.” You mutter, lazily. Ah, a bastard. How wonderful. One would think that she would be more careful. Muddying their blood was one thing. Another was doing it so and producing dark-haired children no one would ever believe were her husband’s.

“I see.” He rewards you by adding more hot water to the bath. It's not something he would do for anyone. It's servant's work, after all. But you have been a good girl so far, despite earlier transgressions.

This escape attempt of yours was a blessing in disguise, truly. No real damage was done. The servant girls got whipped for less at the Red Keep in his grandfather’s reign. Maybe not now because Viserys was a soft-hearted fool, but he is sure it’s still happening at other castles.

The servants here… It’s clear there had been an oversight on his part. He had been away too much when he was married to the Bronze Bitch, and she had given them too loose of a leash. Women. Unable to enact discipline, no matter how tough they thought themselves to be. No, a firm hand was needed. Or else his little dreamer would suffer from it.

At the addition of more hot water, you sigh and go pliant, relaxing against him. Your head sags against his shoulder, as if you are exhausted. Poor thing, that you were. Daemon should get you into bed. It was closer to sunrise than sundown. The night had been trying, especially for someone with the fragile disposition of a dreamer.

“This is how I knew you were a dragon.” Daemon laughs a little. You have the cutest blissed out expression. Another proof you were a Targaryen by birth, and not only by marriage. At first, he had thought your love for baths was because you were a bit of a clean freak, but now he realizes it’s about the heat.

You mumble something inaudible.

“Jace… He is… Ugh.”

“Your favorite?” Daemon asks, trying to keep the conversation going, despite the slightest pang of jealousy in his chest. It was to be expected, of course. You would prefer the heir to the Iron Throne. Despite all your eccentricities, your outstanding abilities, you were just a girl.

Daemon would make sure to keep this Jacaerys away from you. He was sure you would lose interest in him, anyway. How could a mere boy compare to him? Now, sure, you thought him attractive, but because you were only a girl yourself. You would learn to prefer a man’s company over a boy’s.

The favor of a dreamer was a heady thing. Daemon would not put it past the boy to try to charm you. The Gods knew it would have been something he would have done if he had the chance. Daemon would just have to make sure the bastard was kept away, perhaps whisking you away to some other place when the boy was growing up.

He waits for you to keep the conversation going, worried about the sudden quiet. He calls your name. You stir and make a small grumbling noise. You have fallen asleep, pretty eyes closed. Daemon lets himself relax a few more moments, greedily enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. Something this bastard Jacaerys was never going to get. Just basking in your presence and warmth. Then, he lifts you out of it and dries you as best as he can.

Daemon places you in a clean shift, with a slightly lower cut than you would choose for yourself. Despite him buying you an entire wardrobe, you seem to favor higher cuts, which he cannot understand. You have a gorgeous body but seem unwilling to flaunt it.

As he looks at you, asleep on the bed, looking like a small otherworldly being, he almost regrets it all. He thinks of leaving the room unlocked, of not putting you in cuffs.

Daemon cuffs your wrists and ankles before he leaves.

[itsawhumpsideblog]

The Safehouse, pt. 19

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, broken bones and treatment of same, but this is mostly fluff

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Some days will feel like you have taken one step forward only to take a step- or even two steps- back. Celebrate the steps regardless. Rescuees will derive benefit from positive experiences, even if setbacks occur.

When it was finally time to leave the hospital, they bundled Mikey into a large coat that fit over his right hand and draped over the cast on his left side, making him look marginally less memorable. Then Mistress helped Mikey into a wheelchair and took him right out to the car. Mikey felt like the world was moving very fast; his head bobbed as his eyes fell closed and he woke again when his chin hit his chest. He could hear Mistress chuckle, but she didn't sound mean, just amused.

The nice nurse who smiled all the time- she had told them her name, Mikey was sure of it, but he couldn't remember- let him lean awkwardly on her shoulder while Mistress got the door open and then they set him down in the seat. His knees were a little cramped, but it wasn't too bad. They put a pillow on his lap and the nice nurse lifted his right arm very gently and placed it on the pillow, just so, to cushion it for the ride home. Then Mistress put the belt around him, (the belt that wasn't restrictive at all, Mikey reminded himself) and said something to the nurse before she got in and started the car.

As they left the parking lot, Mikey put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. Everything felt heavy and strange and he was still so tired. Surely, Mistress wouldn't mind if he just closed his eyes for a little while.

When Angie pulled into the driveway, she didn't even have time to send the text before Tim hurried out of the house.

"How's he doing?" he asked as soon as she opened the door.

"Better, I think," she replied. "It's a little hard to tell with him and he's sort of still waking up. He slept the whole way home."

"I'm not surprised." Tim opened the door and leaned down to peer in at Mikey, who was still asleep. What he saw made him smile; Mikey's face looked calmer than Tim had ever seen it and he was breathing softly and rhythmically, without pain or nightmares. For a moment, Tim stood quietly by the car, letting the peaceful moment stretch out.

But they couldn't stay there all day, no matter how content Mikey looked, and at last Tim leaned back down, reached in, and rubbed Mikey's head to wake him as gently as possible. "Welcome home," he said. "Ready to come in the house?"

Mikey blinked several times and started to raise his right hand as if to rub his eyes. Then he stopped, stared for a long moment at the heavy bandages on his hand, and looked around him in bewilderment.

"Everything's okay," Tim assured him. "Let's get you inside and comfy on the couch, okay? Francis and Nathan are excited to see you."

That got a loopy smile from Mikey and Tim reached over to remove his seat belt, drawing it carefully over his right arm before they helped him stand.

About halfway to the front door, Tim realized that he was holding his breath and had to remind himself that Angie was right there, too, and equally ready to catch Mikey if his knees gave out on him. Luckily, he seemed steady enough, though he moved slowly, in a dazed sort of way.

Mikey took the steps into the house very cautiously, but shed his slide-on shoes without wobbling too much before he turned almost automatically towards the family room. His legs were still holding him well enough and Tim and Angie followed behind with less anxiety, now that they were indoors with plenty of safe places for Mikey to sit down suddenly, if he needed to.

Francis and Nathan were looking up expectantly and Tim saw the expressions of immense relief dawn on their faces when Mikey at last came through the door.

"Hey, buddy," Nathan said, and Mikey threw him a lopsided smile.

"Welcome home," Francis added, sounding almost shy.

Mikey smiled at him, too, and made his way over to his usual corner, where his pillow still sat. He stood over it a moment and began to bend his knees, then frowned and straightened up. He tried again and then looked around the room, slightly bewildered, then back down at his pillow.

"Why don't you sit on the couch, man?" Nathan suggested.

"I think that's a good idea," Angie agreed. "Kneeling's going to be a little bit of a challenge, I think. Take the spot next to Nathan."

"Yeah," Nathan added. "Come join me." He patted the seat, but Mikey only eyed it with deep misgivings and looked back and forth from the couch to Angie and Tim.

"Really," Tim added. "It's okay to sit on the furniture. We- we want you to."

Mikey heard the words as if they had come in much stronger language. Such suggestions, in his experience, were more like commands and never really optional. Despite how comfortable he felt with Tim and Angie, the part of him that was well-trained moved almost automatically.

Carefully, Mikey lowered himself to perch on the edge of the couch. He looked around the room, eyes darting from side to side, instinctively waiting for the slap that would move him off of a seat meant only for people. He knew that Francis and Nathan were Pets too, and they were allowed on the couch, but they were indoor Pets and he was an outdoor Pet. There was a difference.

Still. Master and Mistress had given him an instruction and he would follow it. And if he was honest- Mikey felt a little thrill just admitting it to himself- the couch was soft and comfortable and it was nice to be up so high. A little like his bed.

A few moments passed in silence and then Mikey slowly realized that the others were watching him. Francis looked very concerned and Mikey tried again to smile for him; Francis had been very sick and shouldn't tire himself out by worrying so much.

"You said everything went well?" Nathan was talking to Mistress in that bold way he had.

"Yes, definitely," Mistress agreed. She never seemed to mind how Nathan spoke to her and- Mikey knew that was because she said she was not really their mistress, but then what was she? She was patient and kind, whatever she was. That was the important thing. He shook his head slightly- his mind kept wandering off like that. Mistress was still talking.

"...basically reconstructed his hands," she was saying, "and fixed a few breaks on his left arm and then reduced the dislocation in his left shoulder. But she says once he starts healing, he won't be in nearly as much pain and he should get movement back in both arms."

"That's so good to hear," Nathan said.

"He'll be able to sign," Francis added softly. Mikey's eyes widened; he had not considered this. The relief of his pain was enough, but to be able to communicate normally again- it made his chest feel funny, but in a good way. It made him want to smile, and he did.

"Yeah, that'll be awesome," Nathan agreed. He added, to Mikey, "And we'll all learn, too, so we can keep up with you. As soon as you heal up, huh?"

Mikey nodded and then yawned- he couldn't stop himself.

"Do you want to go to bed, or stay here with us for a while?" Master asked. Mikey knew that a direct question required an answer, but he didn't know how. He wasn't supposed to want the couch, but they seemed happy to have him home and maybe they wanted to spend time with him. He must have looked conflicted, because Master's face went soft and kind and he stepped in.

"How about we keep you with us for a while, but then you can have an early bedtime?" Mikey nodded and Master nodded back, which probably meant that he had picked the correct option. "Let me help you get your coat off, okay?" Mikey nodded again and Master slid his hands into the sleeve and maneuvered it carefully around the bandages.

As the coat was lifted away, Mikey suddenly felt very exposed. He could see himself more clearly than he had been able to when he was lying in bed and he was more awake now, too. Looking down at himself, he felt very aware of the blue cast that stretched from his shoulder to his fingertips, and he could see the band around his chest that was helping to hold his shoulder still.

"Geez, Mike," Nathan said sympathetically. "Is that uncomfortable?"

Mikey tried to shrug, but couldn't manage it very well. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure. It felt... heavy, mostly, but he had no way to say that.

"Why don't you lay back on the couch, like Nathan is doing?" Master suggested- another almost-order. "Then you can fall asleep if you need to." Mikey nodded and Master helped him lean back so that his cast fit neatly onto the arm of the couch. Then Master pulled a lever to lift the footrest and, last of all, put a blanket over Mikey's lap. It was warm and soft and Mikey smiled and let his eyes drift shut.

In the kitchen, Angie pulled out the packet of paperwork and the bottle of painkillers she had been given.

"Do you want to read this before I file it?" she asked Tim, who had come in to do exactly that.

"Sure." He flipped through the papers and then picked up the bottle of medicine to read the label. He looked from the bottle to the papers and back again and then frowned. "Where's the rest of it?" he asked.

"What do you mean, the rest of it?"

"There's not as much of this as there should be," Tim said. "Like half of what he needs, probably. Did they say anything about that?"

Angie shook her head. "That's everything they gave me. It matches the paperwork- I checked."

Tim frowned again and kept reading, then sighed. "There's a note," he told her. "For the Network. This was all they could get and they said if we want more, they'll have to find some else to get it for us."

"Shit."

"Yeah," Tim agreed. "Poor Mikey. This is going to be rough."

Next Time: The Safehouse residents experience some difficulty in their recovery journeys.

Master List

Notes: Finally got it done! I swear, the other two will get more plot at some point.

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds

@honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000

@whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

[her-devils-advocate]

Through the Mist | Part 1

pairings: Femshep x Garrus

summary: When a routine mission to rescue and recruit a handful of scientists goes wrong, Shepard and her team are left to fight against something they had never expected to face. Now stranded on a heavily fog-covered planet, they realise there is more to the strange weather than they originally thought, especially when they hear things from beyond the fog; calling for them.

word count: 4,213

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60592000/chapters/154704487

“Commander, a handful of scientists are located in a remote facility near you. Their knowledge is invaluable, and we could use them for the crucible. I’ll send you all the information I have, Hackett out.” 

The blue holographic display fizzles away, leaving Shepard alone in the QEC as she mutters out a quiet “Yes, sir.” to the air. She heaves out a sigh before opening her comms, “Joker, we have a new destination. Set course for the Rosetta Nebula.”

“Aw, seriously, Shepard?” He groans, the sound coming out muffled and even without seeing him Shepard can tell he’s rubbing his face. Exhaustion has quickly become more prevalent across her crew, the war wearing them down physically and emotionally, especially after losing a lot more than just their pride to Cerberus. A fact that still gnaws away at her, despite her brave mask which has since been carefully reinforced to keep up what morale is left in her crew.

“Yes, seriously. Orders from Hackett,” she replies, her voice tense. She bites her lip before forcing out a smile, hoping it comes across in her voice. “I don’t like this any more than you Joker, but it needs to be done and it’s better to do it now while we’re nearby. Think of the fuel prices otherwise.”

“You’re buying me three drinks next time, each with their own little umbrella.” He declares, pausing for a moment before adding, “And a damn good dinner, you’re killing me here, Raven.”

Shepard snorts just before the line drops, letting herself flop against the railing in front of her, safe in the privacy of the war room. She feels Garrus approach her slumped form, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. 

“Let me guess, one more mission and then we’ll go to the Citadel for shore leave?” He asks, his fingers drawing comforting circles against her waist.

She gives him an apologetic smile as she leans into him, resting her head against the cool plating of his armour. “It will be quick and easy, we just need to pick up a small group and drop them off. We might as well do it now and then take them with us to the Citadel, though I don’t like putting off shore leave like this.”

“Well, at least the wait will be worth it,” he jokes, catching her tired expression. “Hackett just wants you to collect some people? Sounds like he’s going easy on you with this one.”

“God, please don’t jinx us, Garrus.” She laughs, letting him hold most of her weight against him. 

“Me? Never…” 

From what is visible, the planet appears to be a desolate wasteland; all grey stone and barren of all signs of life. She has yet to learn what the scientists have been working on here and regrets not pressing Hackett for more information, despite the Admiral sending all he had. A high clearance team, working on something secret. A weapon, she theorises, maybe something even shady.

Liara was not much help either, finding very little about the base besides a suspicious number of funds being funnelled into the group from an unknown benefactor; all of which does little to calm the annoyance beginning to build. Discomfort twirls in her gut as a familiar and hated group springs to mind.

“If this is Cerberus again, I think I'm going to lose it,” She mumbles under her breath as she looks through the available data they have about the planet; a base temperature of twelve degrees, breathable air, and splatters of human colonies slowly being formed across the rock.

Shepard hates going in blind and it’s almost as if the planet has decided to use that against her, taunting her. The shuttle shudders as it approaches the ground. She can hear Cortez mutter a swear under his breath as he battles to control the vehicle, her grip tightening on the handrail above. Without any warning, she is thrown against her seat, her knees buckle as they hit the object and she comes crashing down into it. Garrus’ hand is instantly on her shoulder, stabilising her with a strong grip. She gives him a thankful nod and leans back in her seat.

“Everyone alright?” She asks, watching as James knocks his head against the back of his seat before giving her a thumbs up with one hand, the other rubbing at the base of his skull.

Despite the turbulence hellbent on giving them a few bruises before the mission can properly start, they touch down without any other issues. She lets out a small sigh of relief, biting back a smile when she hears her crew do the same. Shepard is quick to leave her seat, giving orders for Cortez to return to the Normandy until they signal for extraction, hopefully with the scientists, before hopping out onto the unknown planet. 

A thick fog instantly wraps itself around Shepard and her squad, drifting to and fro and obscuring their vision. They instinctively move closer to her, almost standing shoulder-to-shoulder while their eyes dart around the blank landscape. The area is silent, not a single bird chirping or a tree swaying its leaves in the wind; as life itself has abandoned the planet.

She can see James nervously glancing around as if expecting an ambush from beyond the thin barrier, despite their lonely landing zone. Their battle-trained senses are useless to them now, sending them into a state of high alert, and if the disconcerted grumble from her sniper is any indication, his visor is doing very little to aid him. He catches her questioning gaze through the blue display and shakes his head.

“I’m getting no readings through my visor, Shepard,” He confirms, his hand raised against the metal frame to fiddle with its settings.

“I’m not surprised. Good to know that we don’t need to worry about any surprises so soon, at least.” She says, securing her Mattock onto her back with ease. 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not getting any readings through this thing, including your own.” She watches as his brow plates come together in a small frown, his hand dropping in defeat as the tech continues to fight against him. “As long as you are suited up and we’re not lightyears apart, my visor will display your vitals. There’s no reason for it to not show while you’re standing in front of me. The thing still works, the kill counter and the current galactic time are still lit up…All biometric data, however…”

The air chills and a thick tension is carried over to them with the gentle breeze. She opens her comm link to the ship, hoping EDI can have more luck scouting the place than they will. 

“EDI, we’re going to need some guidance here. Are you able to lead us to the closest structure?”

A loud buzzing sparks from her comms in response, along with a barely audible voice fighting through the interference, “Comman… We can’t… Unable to…Signal is…”

Shepard drops the link with a frown, her mind running through a million scenarios and plans as she speaks. “Okay, we are effectively cut off from the Normandy, so we’re on our own until we reach our targets. They are our best shot at the moment.” 

"Shepard," Garrus mutters warily and she can hear the concern buzzing through his sub-vocals as he begins to expect the worst, "This isn't the ideal place for a firefight, we are completely blinded."

"I hear you. While it may seem quiet, something’s not right. Everyone stay close and on alert. If you hear or see anything, we avoid it for now." She clenches her fists, quelling the urge to wrap everyone up in her biotics before something has the chance to strike first. She bites back a groan as she rolls her neck, the last thing she wants is to reveal their position if something lurks in the distance. “Maybe the weather can be used to our advantage here,” she mutters as she turns from the group.

She steps further into the fog, waving her hand in front of her and slicing through it with ease. She watches as it parts around her hand before forming again shortly after, dancing around them in a thick haze. An unusual silence hangs around them as no one dares to speak and break it; their footfalls are amplified with every step, almost echoing around them. 

They keep moving, the rhythmic clunking of their armour accompanying every step before James suddenly comes to a halt, groaning in frustration. “This is loco. How are we supposed to find anything when we don’t even know how far we’ve been walking?”

“I don’t know, but what I do know is that we need those scientists. You’re not afraid of a little bit of fog, are you, Vega?” She throws him a smirk from over her shoulder, her smile widening when she hears Garrus chuckling beside her. She much prefers that sound to the empty nothingness that’s been following them.

“You never know, Shepard. He might be, what you humans say, a chicken.”

“Oh low blow, Scars. You don’t even know what that is.”

“According to the extranet, it’s a bird from Earth that is usually killed for food. According to humans, everything tastes like it and they are fearful creatures.” He casually retorts, grinning triumphantly when James scoffs in defeat.

“You spend too much time with Lola.” James gives Garrus a small nudge, grimacing when the impact of their armour rings through the air.

“And you say that as if it’s a bad thing, Jimmy.” 

Shepard rolls her eyes at their back and forth, biting down a laugh at the unique insults being playfully tossed around. She has to step away from the group to focus, she hears Garrus shift to keep her in his line of sight before the familiar warm glow of her omni-tool causes the fog to light up around her. She lets out a small huff as it does nothing to improve their vision, somehow making things worse.

She shuffles back to the duo and glances between them, James half-heartedly glaring at Garrus, and finally spots the outline of a large, grey building, highlighted by the smothered rays of sunlight. Frustration rattles around in her brain at the obvious structure hiding in plain sight, a structure she is positive she would have noticed, yet she does what she does best and throws her emotions into yet another bottle.

"There, ahead of us. That must be the research base." She looks back at Garrus and James, making sure they can see where she’s pointing. An uneasy feeling begins to snake around her heart when she glances back at their destination. Their previous banter had helped to lighten the tense atmosphere surrounding them, but with each ebb and flow of the fog, the thin relief begins to crack again as they approach the base.

"You know, Shepard. We should find some rope and use it to keep us all together." As if reading her mind, Garrus' duel-toned voice breaks her out of her worry and she gives a low chuckle at the suggestion, not entirely disagreeing.

"Uh, no offence, Garrus. What you and Lola do in your free time is up to you, but I don't want to be involved." James says with a cheeky smile that only grows when both Shepard and Garrus roll their eyes at him.

“Very funny, Vega. We’ll just leave you behind then,” Garrus drawls out, his shoulders finally dropping as he relaxes. He catches Shepard’s eye and she gives him a gentle nod, the pair almost speaking without words. Yes, this is weird, and yes, I’m alright.

Shepard is quick to open the structure’s door and usher the others inside, the fog stalking them in through the wide entrance and dissipating into the room. The room is dark, with only the emergency signs providing any light, casting shadows up onto the steel walls around them. There are no other doors within the small room, just a few windows that have since been securely boarded up.

The air within is still and stale, and Shepard grimaces when she catches a hint of something slightly rancid. She glances around and spots a dozen datapads littering the surfaces. Chairs are stranded away from the desks and numerous personal belongings have been left behind. She picks up one of the datapads, a large crack running across the screen, and begins to read aloud what remains of the corrupted file.

“...Day 5, no progress has been made. My head has been killing me, but I refuse to rest until we get results.

“...Day 8, we might finally have good news. Callum from base two has made some improvements. We will need to make adjustments to the formula, but any news is good news at this point.”

The words begin to blur, seemingly dancing across the cracked screen, the flickering worsens the longer she reads before the datapad goes black, cutting her off. She lets herself relax for a moment, holding back a scoff for being so on edge.

She catches Garrus roaming the room out of the corner of her eye before becoming rigid. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stick up once more, a shiver creeping down her spine as he speaks. 

“Spirits… Shepard, you should come and see this.”

She’s quick to reach his side and spots a body curled up in the small space between the wall and one of the desks. His head is leant back against the cold steel, letting them see more than they wish to. His skin is pale, almost taking on a grey tone. There are visible veins under his paperlike skin, bulging along his neck, trying to break free. His eyebrows are pulled together, almost impossibly close. Sending unnatural wrinkles along his forehead. The body is young, too young to have such deep lines.

The worst part is his mouth. It hangs open in a silent scream while his glazed-over eyes are open wide in pure terror. 

She moves closer, keeping her footing light as she approaches the body to read the name badge across the arm of his attire. Without any warning, the man’s head rolls forward. Greying hair falls with it, covering his face. The group instantly jump back, aiming their rifles towards the body and waiting with bated breath for any more movement. After a minute of stillness, Shepard raises her hand, signalling for them to holster their guns.

“He’s dressed in uniform, this must have been one of the researchers. What happened here?” She says softly, leaning down to carefully make a note of the man's name for her report before she stands back up and steps away from the sight.

“No clue, Commander. Half of these datapads are damaged. Some have been trampled on, whatever spooked these people spooked them badly. Bad enough to leave in a hurry.” James appears behind her with a worried frown. 

She takes a moment to think, gently tapping the datapad against her thigh in concentration before a sound breaks her attention. The noticeable whirl of a nearby shuttle flying overhead. She tosses the datapad onto the table and quickly signals for them to follow her as she rushes out of the building, peering up at the sky. Garrus falls into position on her right, gazing down at her oddly before shrugging at James.

Everything is silent, even the breeze that had greeted them has since fallen still. She wanders away from the building, hearing her team scramble to stay close. She continues to watch the sky, her confusion is evident on her face as no shuttle is fast enough to vanish that quickly. 

The more she stares into the white void around her, the more she notices that the fog has grown thicker. It has started to take on an almost yellow hue as it blocks out more of the sunlight. She can feel it glide over the exposed skin of her face, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She feels her spine straighten and her jaw tightens, confusion flowing around the group.

Out of nowhere, she hears footsteps and her head snaps around to trace the sound. She sees nothing out in the distance, but the sound grows louder as it approaches them.

She is quick to grab her pistol, ignoring the alarmed two-toned rumble from her right.

She keeps it low, her finger away from the trigger as she listens. She signals for the others to remain silent, her heart pounding. 

The beating of the organ is loud in her ears, almost to a painful degree. Yet the footsteps grow louder.

She is almost a statue, eyes alert and trained on the direction of the sound, yet she sees nothing as the mysterious figure darts past them and deeper into the fog. In her peripheral she can see her squad standing still, Garrus’ eyes are locked onto her, his mandibles fluttering with uncertainty, while James is frantically looking around, trying to follow her line of sight. 

She swallows down her unease and turns to face them fully, “One of the researchers must still be out here. They were heading north, so that could be where the other base is. We can’t know for sure if that was a researcher or what killed the team, so be careful.” 

Garrus and James glance at one another momentarily before they nod and continue to follow her deeper into the unknown. Unease stalks their every step, their postures rigid and on high alert. A new building reveals itself before them, grey steel walls reflecting the now-setting sun like a beacon awaiting their arrival. A hastily drawn number two sits just above the door, the paint beginning to chip after being left to withstand the elements.

“Let’s hope this is the right place, I don’t enjoy the idea of wandering out here for much longer. You’re certain the person ran this way, Shepard?” Garrus mumbles, back pressed against the wall next to the door. 

“I know what I heard, Garrus,” she mutters as she watches James take his position against the wall on the other side, awaiting her signal. “Even if this isn’t the building they ran to, there’s got to be something here that would explain what happened.”

“...Heard?” He questions, his mandibles flaring in badly concealed bewilderment.

She cocks her head at him, pausing for a second. Shepard gives him a careful nod and bangs a fist against the red omni-lock to open the door, hoping they don’t have to fight against firewalls to gain access. Much to the group's surprise, the lock flashes red a few times before it complies and turns green, the door opening with a small groan.

“A technical malfunction or a research base that has very little security?” Shepard questions, opening up her omni-tool to provide her with some light as she peers into the room.

James shrugs, his back pressed firmly against the wall. “Who knows? Possibly both with how quick the other team was to leave, they probably didn’t have time to properly lock the place up. That or they didn’t think they would have to, with how remote they are out here and all. Can’t imagine anyone loco enough to visit.”

“And whoever we were following probably didn’t expect us to make our way here without getting lost first, giving them no time to fix any issues,” Garrus adds.

She signals for the two men to stay put as she begins to stalk into the room. Even with the door open, it’s darker than the previous base, all the technology within has since lost power after being abandoned. This room is larger, with another door leading deeper into the structure. 

“Hello?” She calls out, her hand hovering close to her pistol, just in case. “I’m Commander Shepard, I’m with the Alliance Navy.”

Silence answers her and she holds back a sigh as she creeps deeper into the building, away from the safety of the door and checks out the room, her omni-tool guiding her every move. Unlike the previous base, this one is relatively clean. It shows no signs of struggle or distress, no corpses hiding away in the shadowed corners.

The base is tidy, too tidy, she notes. Not a single data pad has been left behind, and with the power drained, they are left with no way of accessing the consoles to read through their logs. Shepard runs an armoured hand through her hair as she turns to the entrance, waving the others in.

“This is getting us nowhere. James, stay here and guard the exit while we check out the other room.” She says as she approaches the door, exhaling in relief when it opens without a fight.

“Aye aye, Commander. Leave this mess with me.” He gives her a playful salute before throwing himself down into one of the office chairs, facing the exit. His grip on his Revenant is tight, and the skin stretching over his knuckles turns pale.

There’s only a short corridor connecting the rooms, but the air within is thick and old. As if it hasn’t been disrupted in weeks. A thin layer of dust covers everything in sight, not a single surface is safe from the fluffy, grey specs; a sharp contrast to the room a few metres away. 

The room itself is tiny, barely containing more than three desks pressed tightly against the walls.

“There’s no one here,” Garrus whispers, double-checking all the corners and under the desks. “Looks like this is just an extension of the other room…Just as empty as well.”

“Not quite,” Shepard says as she spots a rectangular object, obscured by a thick layer of dust. She brushes it off, cringing as some of it sticks to the fabric of her gloves. She suddenly spins to face Garrus, waving the half-dead datapad in front of him with a victorious smile. He gives her a smile in return as he moves closer to read over her shoulder.

“...Day 20, we messed up. I don’t know what went wrong, maybe it was our calculations, or maybe it was… Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore.

…Day 21, if you… read… We…can’t…It’s too late.”

“Well, that’s horribly ominous,” Garrus states as Shepard finishes reading. He glances down at her and spots the telltale sign of exhaustion creeping across her expression. Another dead end, another failure. He gently bumps his shoulder against hers, keeping his voice light. “They could have fled, abandoned the bases and left. Or they were relocated to another project after this one. With the Reapers here, it would make sense why Hackett and Liara couldn’t trace them.”

“Maybe…Let’s grab James and get out of here. Liara might have found something by now. There’s no point standing around in a dusty room and possibly catching something.” 

She opens up her comm to try and contact the Normandy once more, wincing at the static rumbling through the line. She listens closely, her focus stolen by the white noise. For a moment she swears she can hear a voice calling out to her. The voice is low and feminine, but not the smooth, metallic tone that she is accustomed to with EDI.

This voice is old and familiar. A memory that had faded with time, crawling back into the present through the static.

“Raven.”

She freezes, feeling like a bucket of ice has been thrown over her, or just injected directly into her veins instead. Tears instinctively rise through her ducts and it takes all that she has to force them back down, doing all she can to hold her commander mask firmly in place. The galaxy hasn’t broken her yet and she refuses to let this planet be the tipping point, not after everything that's happened.

With more force than what is needed, she quickly cuts the comm link. 

Sensing her growing distress, Garrus gently places his hand under her chin, raising it so he can meet her gaze. She lets him manoeuvre her but refuses to meet his eyes. He lets out a quiet sigh and she can feel his concern in the tender action when his thumb brushes against her cheek.

“I think the stress is getting to me. I made a bad call, we should have done this after our shore leave. When everyone is better rested and more focused,” she admits and attempts to hang her head in shame, getting nowhere thanks to his strong grip keeping her head held high.

“I’m not sure, Shepard… I’ve been getting bad vibes from this place. I’ve not once doubted your judgement and I’m certainly not going to start now.”

She gives him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, feeling his body relax at her attempt. He reluctantly releases her after quickly pressing his forehead against hers, doing all he can to give her some reassurance while she secures her mask of authority once more, feeling slightly pissed at how often she’s let it slip on this mission. It’s rare for something to get under her skin, yet she begins to feel as if the planet was designed purely to do just that.

[silvervioletvalentine]

Never too much to someone that can’t get enough of you.

Pairing : Charles leclerc X Cherrie (fem!)

Word count : 8k

Warnings: fluff . So much love it’ll make you sick. Lovesick Charles. A lot of the colour red. Idk that’s it I think?

I can’t believe the amount of love I got on my recent kylian mbappe fic!! I’m so happy you guys liked it. So here’s a Charles one!! Hope you like it xoxo

Charles tried and failed miserably to acted casual and uncaring as he asked the unspoken question of the night , clearing his throat and gently nudging Pierre's arm from where he was sat next to him at the table . Waiting to be served their overpriced food for the night .

He had spent the last half hour nursing a glance of wine and sending the occasional anxious glance towards the restaurant door , hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar wild hair and pretty face , or even just to catch the sound of her loud voice that he often heard before he even caught a glimpse of her.

But as the minutes past buy and the rest of the guys at the table began to mutter impatiently about how hungry they were and how unfair it was for them to have to wait like this , he felt himself grow restless.

Unable to take it anymore , his worry and curiosity got the best of him.

"Where's cherrie? Is she still coming?" He asked Pierre quietly , not wanting to draw attention to himself by asking the unspoken question.

It was bad enough that every time he saw Cherrie , he turned the colour of her name. He didn't need to the rest of the drivers to pick up on his ridiculous little crush either . He would never hear the end of it.

Pierre looked over at him with a small smirk , being the only one to know about Charles infatuation with the loud mouth troublemaker of the grid .

After being the only one there to hear Charles drunkenly ramble on about how beautiful and strange she was , a few bottle of wines had him almost crying as he told Pierre about how much she scared him and how fucked up it was that he liked it.

Now every time he mentioned her , his friend would get a smug little knowing look on his face . One that said 'I know everything' and wasn't afraid to rub it in his face .

Charles really should be carefully about who he drinks around in the future .

"How would I know?" He answered with a small smirk , shaking his head at him in amusement .

He thought it was funny that his quite , kind and always polite friend was infatuated with a woman the complete opposite of him. One that enthralled him yet scared the absolute shit out of him at the same time .

Charles didn't even know why he had gotten so obsessed with her so quickly . Maybe it was because she was everything that he wasn't . Perhaps he liked the fact that he could never guess what she would do next.

Because Cherrie was loud , obnoxious and blunt. Always saying whatever came to her mind without any thought to filter the good from the bad beforehand. She just didn't give a shit .

If you told her yes , she would say no.

If you told her not to do something , she would do it.

If you said she wasn't capable of doing something , she would do it and then do it again just to hit the mark and rub it in peoples faces .

She was fearless. Confident and she never took anyone's shit. Charles really did admire that about her.

However to others she could also come across as rude , mean and a complete and utter bitch. A title that she wore proudly , uncaring of what anyone thought of her .

Because at the end of the day she was a winner . She was the one bringing in the points for Ferrari , she was the one that was permanently on the podium. If she wasn't number one , she was never below the top three .

So what did it matter if she partied every night? If she ran around the hotel lobby in her underwear , drunk and serenading the poor guests there with a terrible version of welcome to the jungle?

And what did it matter if she never had a serious boyfriend? If she was seen with a new man each month? From footballers , to actors and musicians . She wasn't particularly picky. Because they never lasted long anyways.

And so what if she got into public fights all the time? As long as she didn't fuck up her knuckles too much , she could still drive and she could still win. Just like she always did. It was no big deal.

Being her teammate was a rollercoaster . Because while Charles admired and was envious of her driving skills , wanting to know more and wanting to know just how she did it. There was the small problem of how she made him feel.

He wanted to talk to her. Wanted to ask her a thousand and one questions that sprung to mind . He wanted to know her , he wanted to know everything .

He wanted to be her friend . Definitely wanted to be more . But unfortunately for him , he had never been very lucky. On the track and off the track apparently.

Because as soon as she looked at him and flashed him her pretty smile , it was like his brain shut down and he turned into a red coloured zombie who suddenly could no longer form a sentence or even return her smile.

So instead , he blushed and ran away like a coward each time . Mumbling some excuse about how he was needed elsewhere or that someone was calling him, even though his phone never rang.

So no. Because of this, Cherrie and himself weren't particularly close despite being partners on the track. And he only had himself and his own nervousness to blame for that.

Because she did try. She always shouted a pleased hello at him when she passed by. Always tapped the top of his helmet in good luck . Always told him that it would be him on the podium with her next time , giving him hope after yet another failure from his team.

She invited him to parties with her. Yet He always declined because he was a stupid , scaredy cat who was so scared of fucking up and saying something wrong to her , that he was was fucking it up by not doing anything at all.

He was certain that she must think that he had a problem with her by now.

Because lately those happy greetings had stopped and no longer did she invite him to hang out with her anymore . And he knew it was his fault , but what was he to do? He just couldn't help it.

She turned him into a stammering , blushing teenage mess again.

"You talk to her don't you?" Charles finally muttered to his question . Frowning back at Pierre in pure annoyance .

He knew for a fact that Pierre was close to Cherrie . Had seen the multiple posts and photos of them together at random parties and clubs , they had even gone on holiday together with a few other drivers too. They looked like they had the time of their lives together , meanwhile he had bitterly scrolled past their posts with a pout on his face . Having told Cherrie that he couldn't go with them because he had stomach flu.

He didn't have stomach flu but it felt like he did when he saw pictures of her in a tiny dress and sitting on his best friends lap in Hawaii .

Pierre gave him an amused glance . Watching his anxious friend taking another sip of his wine while talking another glance towards the doors.

"Yes I do. We're good friends . Something that you could be with Cherrie if you simply stopped being such a whimp." He simply replied . Getting out his phone and pulling up their texts . Humming to himself as he read the newest one she had sent him ten minutes ago.

"She's running late . Apparently she's had a wardrobe malfunction." He told him.

Charles scowled at him , inhaling deeply as he fiddled with his glass between his fingers .

“Not that simple mate. She must think there's something wrong with me. She doesn't invite me out anymore." He muttered , upset with himself .

Pierre sighed at that. Shooting him a sympathetic glance , yet the amusement in his eyes wasn't fading at all.

"There is something wrong with you. It's called being in love." He stated matter of factly .

He said it So bluntly that Charles choked on his gulp of wine in shock, coughing loudly as he slammed his fist against his chest. Staring with wide, terrified eyes at his friend just as the woman of the hour stumbled in.

Perfect timing .

Cherrie came strutting over to their table In dark red , six inch heels that showcased her tanned and toned legs . Small leather shorts hugging her hips and ...

No shirt. Charles felt like he was going to pass out as he continued to splutter on the droplets of wine that were now trying to kill him.

Pierre snickering beside him as he looked between the two of them happily , as though he was watching his own personal comedy show.

"You won't believe the day I've had!" Cherrie exclaimed as she through her clutch down onto the table with a huff . Nothing but a small , black lace bra covering her upper body.

Then she took note of Charles choking to death at the end of the table and glanced over at him in concern .

Raising a perfectly arched brow in worry as she strutted over to him and starting patting him on the back in hopes to help him.

Kneeling down slightly so that she could see his reddening face , her large chest now in his eyesight from her lack of shirt .

Dear god. Charles thought in misery as he tore his eyes away from her chest and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. I'm being tortured .

"Are you good?" She laughed as she patted the top of his head as well before getting back to her feet and sliding into the chair opposite him. Eyes still glancing curiously at him as his coughing fit finally came to an end . Although the red on his cheeks wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Unable to look her in the eyes , instead settling to glare back at his giggling friend beside him.

He hummed tensely "yeah. Just- the wine-" he motioned helplessly to his now nearly empty wine glass . Beyond mortified now.

He could see lando and Daniel grinning at him from the other side of the table , Carlos simply shaking his head at him with a smile full of pity .

So , perhaps he wasn't as discreet with his infatuation with her as he had previously thought .

lovely . Fucking lovely .

Cherrie nodded along as though she understood . Grabbing her own glass that had been waiting for her and taking a swig , kissing her teeth afterwords with a slight grimace .

"Mmm. Yeah no wonder you choked. Not the best. Anybody want some vodka?" She said with a grin as she opened up her clutch and pulled out a red flask with her name engraved on it .

Daniel whooped happily as he made grabby hands at the flask. Cherrie chucking it to him with a laugh as the waiters finally began bringing out their food now that she had arrived .

It was Carlos who brought up the elephant in the room. Glancing down at her bra that hardly covered anything with a curious look on his face , titling his head .

"Cherrie?" He called over to her just as the waiters left , getting her attention again .

She just hummed as she looked down at her plate of mushroom and chicken pasta , nodding her head happily to herself as she picked up her fork.

"Yeah?" She shoved a spoonful of heaven into her mouth. Raising a brow at Carlos impatiently as her flask was passed around the table . Everyone brightening up now that food was served with the option of pure vodka too.

He glanced again at her chest and then over to Charles who had his eyes glued down to his plate , seemingly in a staring contest with his own food.

"Where is your shirt? You do know that it is missing right?" He asked her kindly . Wondering if she simply had forgotten to wear one . It wouldn't be the first time .

Cherrie just sighed and glanced down at her chest with a slight pout on her face , frowning a little in annoyance .

"I got my shirt caught caught in the elevator door and it ripped off. I couldn't be bothered going back home . The bra covers what it needs to." She muttered around a mouthful of pasta , utterly starving and not giving a shit about manners then.

Charles swallowed roughly. He didn't think that it covered what it needed to at all.

Taking another quick glance up from his plate to confirm his thoughts , he chewed on the inside of his cheek and quickly averted his eyes again.

Yep. Didn't cover much at all.

Lando grinned over at her "I think you look great Cherrie! You're making a fashion statement . Next new trend hopefully!" He cheekily joked as he reached over the table to high give her .

Cherrie just giggled as she slapped his hand and rolled her eyes at him with a grin.

Pointing her fork at him playfully "oh lando. Dear little lando. You wouldn't last a minute if all the women in the world started to look like me and dress like me . You wouldn't be able to handle it." She teased as she took another swig of the wine to wash down her pasta with.

Lando gasped , offended . "I would too!" He exclaimed.

Daniel laughed loudly "spoken like a real man. You sound like a five year old! I would too!" He mocked him , giggling as he ducked out of the way of the incoming smack.

As the others began to banter between themselves , Cherrie took the chance to tap her heel against Charles ankle .

Making him flinch so hard he smacked his own arm against pierres who gave him a amused shake of his head. Feeling sorry for his friend now. This was utterly pathetic.

Cherrie let out a chuckle as she gave him a curious glance . Wondering why he looked so flustered and red.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a little ..." she twisted her lips not wanting to accidentally insult him . "Like your car." She instead settled on making , Pierre snort loudly .

Frowning at him curiously before turning her gaze back to Charles who had , if it was possible , gone an even darker shade of red .

Clearing his throat , he gave her a nervous smile and nodded his head. Clenching his fork in his hand as he twirled his spaghetti around on his plate , finally meeting her eyes and keeping them there.

He wondered then if Axl rose had written that verse just for Cherrie. It seemed fitting .

'She had eyes of the bluest skies as if they thought of rain , I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.'

Her eyes were just as beautiful as the rest of her. Because of course they were . There wasn't anything ugly about her . She was perfect in his eyes.

Even as she sat there , missing a shirt and taking a swig from a flask of vodka . Eyeliners smudged beneath her eyes and her painted nails all chipped and messy. He still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world .

Fucking hell. He was absolutely screwed. There was no coming back from this was there?

"I'm okay." He quietly confirmed . Trying to gather every ounce of courage he had to just talk to her like a normal human being for change .

“Er-how's your cat? Sirius right?" He asked.

Pierre gave him a look. Letting out a long , pitiful sigh. Horrified at the lack of game his best friend had. He really needed to school him on the art of flirting. Desperately in fact .

Cherrie let her smile fall from her lips, letting out a dramatic sigh as she widened her eyes at him like she was suddenly really sad .

"He died." She said keeping a straight face as she watched Charles’s face go white . His mouth parting in shock while his face displayed nothing but horror , seemingly having lost his voice .

As he just continued to blink at her in disbelief , his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. She couldn't hold it back any longer, feeling bad , she burst out into laughter .

Reaching over to flick at his hand , she shook her head with a teasing grin.

"I'm kidding! I'm just joking char! He's alive and well. Can't you tell from all the cat hair on me?" She giggled as she picked a ginger hair from her bra strap with a smile.

Charles couldn't stop himself from exhaling loudly in relief . "Oh mon dieu! Shit.." he breathed out a shaky chuckle.

Clutching his hand over his anxiously racing heart . Having thought that he had really fucked up, again.

"He's alive?" He repeated just to be sure . Eyes still wide from the shock of her little joke. Sure that she was trying to kill him.

Cherrie just nodded her head as she sucked the pasta sauce from her fork slowly , popping it out of her mouth once she was done with a sly little grin.

Seeing the way Charles eyes were glued to her lips , she ran her tongue against the bottom of her glossed lip just to tease him some more .

"Mmm. He's so fucking fat. I've tried dieting him but nothing is working ." She told him with fondness in her voice as she pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture of her cat. Turning it around to and leaning over the table so Charles could see it clearly .

Charles couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the obese fluffy cat on her screen. It's face so scrunched up it made it look like a moody old man.

"Aww. Fitting name though. He does look really Sirius." He muttered in amusement .

His eyes flickering back up to watch her as she laughed loudly at his joke. Pride filling him at the sight of her beaming smile as she looked at him with bright eyes.

"Finally! Someone gets it!" She exclaimed happily . Almost bouncing on the edge of her seat in excitement .

"The amount of times I've had to explain his name is ridiculous.." she rose a brow at him , biting down on her lip in glee as she watched him giggle at her pun.

Charles felt some of his confidence return to him , like magic. Unable to believe that she was a Harry Potter nerd too. Who would have thought?

"Good one." He grinned shaking his head in amazement . Running a hand through his hair as he watched her suddenly stand up and drag her chair to the end of the table so that she was sat right beside him instead .

Resting her elbow on the table right beside his , she held up her phone between them as she flicked through her photos and stopped at one in particular .

"Oh my god. I knew you'd be a slytherin!" He laughed as he looked at the photo of her in slytherin uniform . Broomstick and all as she posed beside her cat who was also wearing a Hogwarts jumper , looking as unimpressed as ever .

Cherrie clicked her tongue . "Pretty obvious huh? And you're ..." she squinted her eyes at him thoughtfully . Tapping her finger against her lips as he grinned over at her shyly . Feeling a little self conscious from how intently she was looking at him.

"A Hufflepuff." She stated confidently. Nodding her head along with her words as she locked her phone and gave him her full attention instead .

Charles sighed long and hard . "Yeah. I'm not gonna ask how'd you know . I scream Hufflepuff don't i?" He mumbled with a sheepish smile .

Cherrie just laughed and nudged his shoulder with her own.

"You'd look good in yellow . Little badger." She whispered to him , wiggling her eyebrows teasingly . Before reaching over to fill another glance of wine , easily moving on like she hadn't just turned his world upside down .

Instead she got back up and wandered down the table to Daniel and lando who wanted to show her a new card trick they had learned on the way there.

Leaving Charles to exhale shakily and lean back

Against his chair. Pressing his hand against his rapidly beating heart .

A lovesick smile tugging at his lips as he watched her laugh at something the guys had said . Roasting them like no tomorrow as she easily guessed how they had done their trick .

Pierre glanced at his friend with a smirk , taking in his red face and heart shaped eyes as he watched her. Wondering what it would take for Charles to admit that he was in love .

The final time that Charles knew he was in too deep was a random Saturday night when he had finally picked up the phone and let Cherrie persuade him to hang out with her .

After making her promise him that there would be nobody else that he would be forced to socialise with and that she wasn't tricking him just to drag him out to some club she was always at . He finally agreed .

With his heart in his mouth and firmly telling himself over and over again that this was just a casual hangout between budding friends. That he could totally act like a normal guy and not embarrass himself for once . That everything was going to be okay .

He arrived at her apartment with a bottle of bubblegum wine that he had found after hearing Daniel rave about it to him one time . He figured Cherrie would like it. Even if she didn't she would still drink it . It wasn't in her nature to turn down alcohol . So that was one thing he didn't have to worry about .

But as she let him in with her blonde hair sectioned into two pieces and holding up a bottle of bright red hair dye in her hands. He felt his face fall. Oh god.

"Cherrie please don't tell me that you've brought me here to change careers." He pleaded as he placed the bottle of wine and chocolates he had also brought for her down onto her coffee table.

Standing in the middle of her front room with his hands pressed against his hips, staring fearfully at the bottle of hair dye that she was thrusting in his direction with a gleeful smile upon her pretty face . Dressed in just a baggy Ferrari shirt and nothing else . Charles wondered how much more his heart could take.

Giggling like a crazy person as she dashed to her front door and locked it so he couldn't escape . Returning to him to see him looking exasperated, pressing his hands over his face with a groan . Knowing that he had no choice but to go along with whatever crazy shit she wanted to do now.

"What's wrong with being my impromptu hairdresser? Fuck me. Bubblegum?!" She suddenly squealed as she picked up the bottle of wine and held it up to her eyesight . Looking like a kid at Christmas .

Charles grinned as he gently took the bottle from her hands and opened the cap.

"Where's your wine glasses?" He asked her while glancing over to her kitchen curiously . It was a mess. He wasn't surprised . She didn't seem like the neat and tidy type of woman anyways.

Cherrie just scoffed and gave him a judgemental look. Grabbing him by the arm of his sleeve and dragging him down the hallway and into her bathroom where her temporary salon would be.

"What are we? Old? We drink from the bottle like champions Charles!" She tutted at him as she took the bottle from his hands and took a long swig. Pulling it back from her lips after she had swallowed, letting out a impressed hum.

Licking her lips at the sweet taste  "wow that was really nice." She murmured in actual surprise.

"Where'd you get this from? I want more."

Charles took the bottle back from her and took a small sip for himself . "Daniel. He's got a load of it. It's his favourite wine ." He mumbled taking another long sip as he watched her pull out a small stool right in front of the large mirror  and sit herself on it . Once against thrusting the hair dye at him impatiently .

"Cherrie.." he groaned warily as he carefully took the bright red bottle from her hands . Glancing at her long blonde hair worriedly .

"Are you sure? I don't know what I'm doing and I don't want to be the one responsible for fucking your hair. You'll hate me if I mess up." He muttered nervously as he stood behind her . Taking another large gulp of wine because there was no way he could do this totally sober .

Cherrie just sighed as she tilted her head back so that she was looking up him upside down , Charles quickly reaching out to place his hand on the back of her neck to stop her from toppling off the stool and onto the floor .

"I could never hate you Charles . You're too cute to hate." She simply told him before straightening herself up again. Giving him another blinding smile that had his stomach feeling like a damn zoo.

"Just think of it as paint . You just need to cover all the blonde and then it's done . It'll look good." She said confidently as he began to gently take out one of the hair ties in her hair . Softly running his fingers through the strands to make sure there was no knots .

He sighed, heart fluttering in his chest at the trust she had in him  "okay. You're right. Pass me the gloves." He mumbled . Quickly pulling them on and glancing nervously at the hair dye in his hands .

Hesitating long enough that Cherrie groaned and rolled her eyes at him playfully .

“Come on babe. It's not that hard I promise! Don't you think I’d look good In red?" She teased him . Wiggling her eyebrow at him once he looked up to catch her gaze in the mirror .

Flushing slightly, he looked back down at the bottle and pulled off the cap. Clearing his throat quietly as he started to squeeze the dye onto her hair , the bright red standing out against her usual white blonde .

"Of course you do. Red suits you best." He muttered honestly. Beginning to work more of it into her hair . Quickly catching on and getting through it all.

Cherrie smiled "see? You're doing so good! I knew you could do it Charles ." She praised him.

Watching with a keen eye as his skin lit up the same colour as her hair . Clearly he liked being praised. She'd keep That in mind for another time.

Taking another swig of the wine . She glanced into the mirror and looked at the matching red Ferrari tracksuit he was wearing . His hair all messed up and face soft and boyish as he concentrated on doing her hair .

Feeling her eyes soften as she took in how relaxed he looked now. He was always so jumpy around her . She could barely speak to him without him looking like he was going to run away. She hasn't actually expected him to agree to come to hers that night anyways . She just thought she'd try her luck .

Pierre told her it was because she made him nervous . That he didn't know how to act around her sometimes .

Cherrie knew that she could be too much sometimes . A little too loud. A little too chaotic . A little too much of everything .

But her dad had always told her that you could never be too much for someone who wanted all of you . So she wasn't going to change herself for anybody.

She just had to wait for the right person at the right time. She was sure of it . Someone would love her someday.

"Reds your colour too ya know.." she whispered to him after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence between them. Something else that was rare for her too.

She had always had a problem with silence . Always felt the need to fill in the gaps by running her mouth and chatting shit all the time.

But with Charles it was different . She didn't feel uneasy with the silence. She felt safe and at ease . She felt like she didn't have to put on a act or play up for him. She could just be herself .

She just liked being around him. He made her difficult mind go quiet. He made her feel calm. She didn't know why.

Charles peered up at her with a soft smile tugging at his mouth . Nervously Biting down on the corner of his lip once he noticed the honesty written all over her pretty face . She meant it.

"Thank you." He let out a shy chuckle . Finally finished with her hair. He carefully made a bun and wrapped a random hair tie around it to keep it in place at the back of her head . Pulling off his red gloves he placed them into the bin in the corner of the room . "All done. How long do we wait?"

She hummed as she took another swig of the nearly empty bottle . Passing it over to him so that he could have what was left .

Slowly getting up from her seat with a yawn, stretching out her back . Raising her arms above her head and till she head a click. Feeling her shirt raise above her hips and no doubt giving him an eyeful of lace . She didn't care .

"Half hour. Shall we open another bottle of wine up?" She asked him already heading to the kitchen anyways .

Charles grinned as he followed her out only to stop by the couch and gasp happily at the sight of the fat cat staring back at him.

"Sirius!" He exclaimed to the fat ginger cat who just meowed at him. Hurrying to kneel down on the floor beside him, he slowly put out his hand in front of him for the car to sniff .

"You're just as fat as your mommy said. So cute .. yes you are .." he said in a baby voice as he gently scratched behind his ears . The cat purring loudly as it closed its eyes in bliss.

"Hey! Don't call him fat! It's a secret!" She giggled as she came back into the room with another bottle of wine opened up.

Charles looked up at her with a grin "you mean he doesn't know that he can't fit through the cat flap?" He carefully stood to his feet before picking the cat up into his arms with a little difficulty.

"Sorry." He said to Sirius before taking his seat on the couch and putting the cat down on his lap. Stroking his fingers through its endless fur .

Cherrie shook her head with a smirk as she collapsed onto the couch beside him. Taking a drink from the bottle before she passed it over to him. Leaning over to grab the chocolates from the table , she flipped the lid and groaned in delight .

"Charles I could marry you. Wine and chocolates? Fuckin perfect." She sighed out happily . Missing the look of adoration he shot her as she shoved the biggest one into her mouth .

Sucking on the chocolate she leant back against the cushions and got comfortable . Turning her head to look at Charles who has done the same .

"Which one do you want?" She asked him nodding towards the chocolates .

He didn't look away from her smile . Still stroking Sirius in his lap.

“I want Cherry." He simply answered .

Cherrie paused for a second before giggling . Picking

Up the cherry flavoured chocolate and bringing it to his lips .

Shaking her head and feeling a little flustered as Charles leant forward and took the chocolate from between her fingers with his teeth.

"That could have went both ways. Cheeky Charles." She teased him as she flicked the end of his nose before turning on the tv and putting on Harry Potter on.

"Fuck yeah." He mumbled once he saw what she had put on . "The first movie is the best one." He said.

Cherrie thought then that she might be in love.

"It is. God. It's just perfect . The vibes are immaculate In this one . You know I used to have this huge crush on snape when I was growing up." She told him as she took another long swig from the bottle of wine . Her belly feeling warm and fuzzy as she blinked her eyes over at him with another giggle.

Vodka made her crazy. Wine made her giggly and tequila would get her pregnant . So strange.

Charles looked at her in disbelief , pulling a face at her as he reached for another chocolate from the box in her lap.

"Really? Why?" He laughed , eyeing her judgementally .

Cherrie simply shrugged . "Dunno. Think I liked the whole bad guy thing. I also had a thing for Draco

And Tom riddle too. So..." she trailed off grinning.

Charles looked at her like she was insane . "I don't get it . If there bad people or if they do bad things why does that make you want them? Why do you go for the Badboys?" He asked her curiously . Also hinting towards her real love life too.

She had a terrible track record of dating assholes. Or guys that looked like they could kill you in one go.

If that's what she wanted , then he stood absolutely no chance . He wasn't a bad boy. He hated staying up past midnight . He hated being stuck in crowds . He had cried when he accidentally stood on a ladybird .

He had also cried when a bird had smacked against his car window and died.  Would she like that? Could he somehow spin his emotional sensitivity to be attractive? He didn't know how but he was willing to do anything to try.

Cherrie hummed as she thought about it. Her eyes scanning his face as she took in the soft freckles and pink tint of his lips. He looked so soft and cozy , she just wanted to melt into him.

"The thrill maybe? I'm not sure . I've never dated that type for more than a few weeks though .. so I don't think I'll date the bad boys ever again." She murmured to him before taking another swig of wine.

Her words were like music to his eyes . Hope filling him quickly . No more Bad boys to compete against . Amazing.

"I want true love. Ya know , the I can't live without you true love . I want want my mom and dad have." She told him as she stumbled up to her feet . Charles reaching out to press his hand against her back and arm as she swayed. The alcohol rushing to her head .

"It's time?" He asked while glancing at the clock to see that half an hour had passed . Gently ushering her into the bathroom , he pressed the button and carefully pulled off the shower head .

Cherrie giggled as she knelt down in front of him. Gazing up at him with rosy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Charles wasn't doing much better either as he laughed as he looked down at her. Putting his hand under the water to feel the temperature , flicking specks of water at her face once he was done.

Hiccuping she gripped his knees as she let him turn her around so that her back was facing the tub.

"Ya know I've been in this position many times before but never like this.." she smirked up at him. Giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. Gently pinching his thigh just because she could.

Charles was confused for a moment , wondering what she was talking about , before finally glancing down at her on her knees in front of him and understanding .

Flushing red , he rolled his eyes with a drunken grin. The two bottles of wine really helping his confidence as he gently pushed her head back to hang over the tub.

"Well you need something new to spice up your life. I won't leave bruises , I'll only leave red hair." He slurred a little , blinking heavily to focus his eyes as he began to rinse out the dye from her hair .

Putting his own knees on either side of her hips as he leant over her , Cherrie watching from underneath heavy lids .

Scrubbing at her scalp to get the red out , he grinned down at her . Leaning down to bump the tip of his nose against her own just to hear her laugh again.

"What if I want bruises and red hair?" She cheekily asked him. Laughing loudly as he splashed her in her face again.

Tutting In fake disapproval , pursing his lips to try and contain his own sly grin. He shook his head .

"I could let you fall into this tub. That'd leave some

Bruises." He joked as he ran his fingers through her hair again. Making sure it was all out.

She pouted up at him . Feeling him grab her elbows to pull her back up to her original height. Closing her eyes for a moment as her head spun , she grimaced.

Charles watching her in concern as he gently ran his hand over the back of her head. Reaching over to grab a soft towel , he carefully wrapped it around her wet hair .

"You okay? Head rush?" He asked her quietly. Softly rubbing at her shoulder till she opened her eyes again.

Humming tiredly , she nodded her head . Rubbing the towel against her head .

She smiled. "You're so pretty." Was all she mumbled better staggering back Up to her feet and stumbling her way into her bedroom.

Leaving Charles to blush and run his hands over his face , giving himself a moment to gather himself before following her into her room.

Seeing Cherrie sat at the end of the bed as she hummed a song to herself , he looked over to her dressing table and picked up a de-tangle brush before walking over to the bed .

Crawling behind her so that he was leaning against the headboard before he spoke up, gently nudging her back with his foot to get her attention.

"Cherrie. Come here ." He softly said as she finally let the towel drop from her hair . Making his eyes widen in amazement .

"Wow it's so bright! Just like out cars. It looks amazing." He gushed In awe at the sight of her now bright red hair. 

Cherrie grinned happily as she crawled over to him and slotted herself between his open legs so  that her back was to his chest. Feeling him carefully section her hair before began he began to brush through it.

It was quite between them for a few minutes as Charles continued to brush out her hair till it was silky smooth .

Then he set the brush aside and simply wrapped his arm loosely around her neck and chest, sliding further down the bed so she was able to cuddle into his chest.

Turning on her front so that she could rest her chin on his chest , she slid one arm around his waist and hooked her leg up over his hip to get comfortable.

Yawning tiredly , feeling so safe and warm with him

As he carefully pulled up the cover so that it was over the both of them.

"How do you like your eggs Charles?" She asked him quietly after a few moments of them just looking at each other smiling .

He leant his head back against the pillow with a sigh of contentment . Unable to believe his luck.

Heart hammering in his chest so fast that he knew she must have heard it. Yet he was too drunk to care.

Gently running his fingers up and down her spine  as he gazed down at her in awe. Taking in the soft slope of her nose and way her lashes naturally curled up towards her sharp eyebrows.

Before his eyes were finally drawn down to her softy and pouty lips that were tinted from the wine.

Swallowing quietly , he exhaled a little too shakily.

"Scrambled ." He finally answered . Low trembling.

"How do you like Your coffee?" He asked her just as quietly . Planning on running To the local cafe in the morning.

He felt her lips curve up against his chest. A soft giggle escaping her as she reached up to cup the back

of his neck in the palm of her hand. Squeezing gently.

"Sweet. Really sweet." She murmured softly before before titling her chin up and closing her eyes .

Charles just smiled as he tilted his head down to meet her halfway , pressing his lips against her softly . Tasting the sweetness from the wine and the chocolates they had consumed .

Humming against her mouth as he gently cupped the back of her head in his hand , scratching his nails against her scalp in a soothing motion that had her moaning against his lips .

Flicking her tongue up to taste the roof of his mouth , she titled her head to deepen the kiss before nibbling teasingly at his bottom lip. Pulling it back before finally pulling away enough so that they could breathe.

"I want pancakes for breakfast. With fresh fruit and syrup." She whispered to him as she softly traced the shape of his lips with her fingertip . Feeling him exhale shakily beneath her .

"An I prefer hot chocolate to coffee." She added as an after thought . Giggling.

Charles breathed out a giddy laugh . His heart so full it felt like it could explode . He could only hold her closer and tuck his face down into her neck. Kissing under her ear and against her jaw over and over again.

He was going to kiss her in every place on her soft skin that he had dreamed about .

He was going to caress her in ways that he had fantasied about since the moment he had met her .

Feeling his emotions bubble up , he swallowed down the lump in his throat as he kissed her again . Just because he finally could now.

"I'm in love with you." He finally admitted to what he had been denying for so long .

Pierre was right . He was a man in love.

Cherrie didn't seem too surprised . Only pleased as she kissed the corners of his mouth before kissing her way down to his chest , then pressing a kiss over his pounding heart .

"I know. You're not very subtle ." She breathed out a laugh of adoration before gently tapping his chest three times . "Luckily for you neither am I."

His smile lit up his face as he gazed up at her like she was his own personal heaven. "Yeah?"

She giggled at the look of disbelief on his face . As though he couldn't believe what she was saying. As though it was impossible for it to be true .

I love you

I’ll love you forever If you let me.

I want you . I want every part of you . The good , the bad. The promises. The dreams. The hopes.

He wanted to be her best friend .

She could never be too much for him, not when he wanted every piece of her.

He wanted her mornings , he wanted her evenings, he wanted her midnights .

He just wanted her. Bathed in the afterglow of their love.

"Yeah." She nodded her head softly in confirmation .

"Cause I'm in love with you too. I had to be. I've never waited this long for anyone in my entire life!" She joked , although it was true .

Patience really was a virtue she supposed .

Sometimes you’ll spend a lot of time chasing the wrong person when your light was their all along. Just waiting to guide you home.

Charles flushed with love before laughing loudly In total happiness . Pulling her back down to his chest and holding her close . Never planning on letting her go again.

Because she loved him. Him. Just him. All this time he had wasted being so afraid .

He would never let fear control him again. He was going to give her the world. He had plenty of lost time to make up for after all.

"I'm gonna get you the best damn pancakes and hot chocolate I can find." He promised her then. Making her giggle again.

"I'll hold you to it. I'll scramble those eggs too. And maybe in the morning you can give me the bruises too …now that you've given me the red hair." She teased him.

Charles just sighed blissfully , kissing her again. And again and again .

"Oh mon dieu. Je t'aime. pour toujours.."