#all and then most of you some and now none of you

[vunblr]

Built to Last

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Summary: Bucky took up carpentry to keep himself busy, but didn't expect a hardware clerk to make him want more.

Word Count: 3.4k.

notes: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "I didn't do a thing". Card number 4B-016

Bucky didn’t know what to say when Dr. Raynor told him to pick up a hobby. It wasn’t a suggestion. She said he needed something to keep his hands busy other than fighting, fidgeting with the weight of his past, or rotting alone in his apartment. He had scoffed at the idea at first. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do with his life, and a hobby was part of that uncertainty. But after taking his time to think about it, carpentry had stuck.

Before the war -before everything- he used to help out at a woodworking shop near his parents’ place. Just small stuff. Sanding, assembling furniture, little repairs here and there. It had been a way to make a few extra bucks to help at home, and he barely remembered the details of the work itself. But he remembered the feeling. The weight of the wood beneath his hands, the scent of sawdust in the air. The satisfaction of making something solid, something that stayed put when he was done with it.

So, he signed up for a class. Twice a week, a few hours at a workshop not too far from his apartment. At first, it was just to shut Raynor up. But soon enough, he found himself staying longer, working on projects after class, getting lost in the routine of measuring, cutting, and sanding. He liked the precision it required, the way it quieted his mind. His hands had spent too many years destroying. This, at least, was the opposite of that.

And though he wouldn’t admit it, he liked the errand of buying supplies.

Most of the wood was provided at the workshop, but for everything else -sandpaper, varnish, nails, brushes, hinges- there was a small hardware store along the way. Just a hole-in-the-wall place, the kind of shop that had a little bit of everything and a counter perpetually dusted with stray wood shavings. Bucky told himself he went there because it was convenient and nothing more. Liked its atmosphere.

He had no idea how it happened, but somehow -much to his dismay- Sam ended up signing up for the carpentry classes, claiming it would entertain his head. He had begrudgingly shown him the spot where he got his supplies, but after fifteen minutes of Sam chatting up with her, while Bucky busied himself grabbing what he needed, he was starting to think he regretted it.

She knew who he was -how could she not?- but she treated him like any other customer. When she learned he was taking lessons, she started asking about his projects every time he went there. Once a week, like clockwork. Sometimes, when he came in looking roughed up after a mission, she’d even ask if he was okay. Direct and simple, like it wasn’t strange at all for a man like him to be standing in her shop, debating between varnish finishes with bruised knuckles. Every now and then, she gave him candies.

Now, she leaned her hip against the counter, twirling a pen between her fingers as she smirked at Sam. “I bet you expected some grumpy old guy back here, huh?”

“I mean, yeah,” Sam admitted with a laugh. “No offense, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sell power tools and nails in a dotted sundress before. It’s a little disorienting.”

Her grin widened. “Keeps people on their toes.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose and grabbed a box of nails off the shelf with a little too much force, shoving it into his basket. He told himself it wasn’t irritation that he was feeling. Definitely not.

Sam caught the movement immediately, and jerked a thumb toward him, “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just mad he’s not getting attention.”

Bucky didn’t look up, but squeezed his hand around the next box of nails he picked up. He didn’t need more nails, but standing there empty-handed wasn’t an option while Sam worked his usual charm on her.

She then flicked her gaze over him, with a little amusement, before she pushed off the counter and strolled toward him. “Need help finding anything, James?”

James.

His fingers tensed around the box again.

She was one of the few people who ever called him that. It always did something weird to his chest, like the name fit better in her voice than his own head.

He swallowed. “No. I’m good.”

Her lips quirked, fixing her eyes to the box in his hand. “You sure? ‘Cause I think you just grabbed two different sizes of nails. And I’m pretty sure the second one’s too big for that book holder you told me you’re making.”

Bucky scowled, glancing down. Damn it. She was right.

“You can never have enough nails,” he muttered, shifting the box in his grip. “Besides, I’m thinking about another project, so…” He trailed off, trying to sound casual.

Her eyes widened with interest. “Oh? What are you making next?”

“Yeah, James,” Sam chimed in, voice dripping with amusement. “What’s your next masterpiece?”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He could practically hear the smirk in Sam’s voice because they both knew he was full of shit. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“A coffee table.”

Her face lit up. “That’s bigger than your usual work,” she said, beaming. “I can’t wait to see a picture when it’s done.”

Bucky swallowed, resisting the urge to fidget. Great. Now he had to make a damn coffee table for real.

“He doesn’t have one, you see,” Sam said as if Bucky wasn’t standing right there. “His place is pretty spartan.”

“Oh, really?” she mused, tilting her head with interest.

“I think he needs some help with the whole ‘making a house feel like a home’ thing,” he continued, grinning. “Everybody knows 40s men weren’t exactly in charge of those things or managing a household.” He sighed. “And since he’s alone-”

Bucky felt utterly betrayed. It was partially right. He was alone, and after so many years of being in survival mode, his apartment still didn’t feel like a home, just another place to exist. But he didn’t have the right to call him off about that in front of her.

His features shifted into a neutral mask, and his shoulders went rigid. Without a word, he set the basket on top of a nearby box and turned toward the door. “I’ll come back later.”

“Wait.” Her voice was gentle but firm, and before he could leave, she reached out and briefly touched his elbow.

The warmth of her hand was barely registered before he tensed, fighting the instinct to pull away. His feet stayed planted, but his gaze dropped to the ground as he gave her a small, awkward nod.

“I have something for you,” she said, already moving toward the back room.

Bucky’s shoulders twitched, and the urge to bolt mounted fast. Sam, sensing he had overstepped, exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, man,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “I just was-“

Bucky waved a hand dismissively, though his jaw remained tight. He didn���t have the energy to say it’s fine, because it wasn’t, not really. But she was already gone, and for some reason, that alone was the only thing keeping him rooted in place.

A minute later, she returned with a well-loved book in her hands. “Here.” She held it out, and when he hesitated, she smiled. “Last time we talked, you mentioned wanting to catch up on books you missed. This was one of them, right? Red Mars?”

Bucky’s brows lifted, caught off guard. He looked at the book, then at her, with surprise flickering across his face. She remembered.

He reached out slowly, brushing his fingers on the worn cover before taking it. “Thanks…”

“I’m only lending it to you,” she teased, “And, you have to tell me what you think about it when you return it to me, like a real-life Goodreads review.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t think he-”

“He knows what it is,” she cut in smoothly, lifting a brow. With an easy shift of her stance, she subtly positioned herself between them, like a shield. “I taught him.”

Sam held up his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright.”

Bucky looked down at the book again, running his thumb along the edge of the pages, and then at her, standing between him and Sam, cutting through the teasing, speaking in his favor. Of course, he didn’t need it, but… it felt nice.

And before he could stop himself, he flicked a smug little smile in Sam’s direction. Just a quick, fleeting thing -boyish, almost careless- but enough to make Sam blink in disbelief.

“Did you just-” Sam pointed at him, then looked at her, eyes wide. But she had her back turned toward Bucky, and was completely unaware of the display

“Stop messing with me, Sam,” Bucky pleaded, tone all wounded pride. But still smirking.

Sam scoffed. “It wasn’t that serious, and you’re clearly not that affected.”

She turned briefly, and just like that, Bucky wiped the smirk clean off his face, replacing it with a look so convincingly forlorn, like a dog that had just been kicked, that Sam nearly choked on his own indignation.

That bastard. Using his Winter Soldier undercover acting skills.

And then -before Sam could get a word in- she sighed and shook her head. “It’s not funny, you know,” she said as she looked at Sam. “He’s your friend, and he’s been through a lot. You don’t even know me, and you’ve been messing with him this whole time trying to mix me into it. I thought the Avengers were better than that.”

Sam’s mouth opened, then closed. He had faced down alien invasions, rogue governments, and Bucky at his most feral, but this? This had him momentarily speechless.

And Bucky? Bucky beamed.

Because after six months of clipped conversations and hesitant efforts to talk to her in his still-awkward way, she had shut birdbrain down for him, without hesitation. And just minutes ago, the two of them had been so damn chatty.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, keeping up the little orphan act, shoulders curling in just enough. “He can’t be dealing with my shit all the time.”

“It’s not okay, James,” she countered. “You should speak up for yourself. Don’t just take this kind of treatment.”

Sam found his voice again, throwing up his hands. “Oh, he speaks just fine for himself, let me tell you-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She cut him off with a sharp look. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to sort from the last delivery. Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll ring you up.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Sam standing there, baffled.

Bucky, still holding the book, let the smugness seep into his expression again, and Sam shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

----

A week later, Bucky walked into the hardware store, a little worse for wear. He moved stiffly, with fresh a bruise shadowing his jaw, a scrap on his nose, and roughed-up knuckles, the kind of raw that came from a fight, not precisely carpentry.

She glanced up from the counter, and her smile faltered. “Jesus, James. You look like you got in a fight with a truck.”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

She folded her arms. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” It came out too quick, too practiced, but before she could call him on it, he pulled something from inside his jacket and set it on the counter, her copy of Red Mars.

“I read this during some downtime,” he said like he hadn’t just brushed past her concern.

Her expression softened. “Yeah? What’d you think?”

He hesitated, rubbing a thumb along the book’s spine. “Dense as hell, but… good. I liked the way it built up all the politics and survival stuff. And the tech felt real.” He tapped lightly against the cover before adding, “Kept my mind busy.”

Something warm flickered in her gaze, and she leaned on the counter, propping her chin her hand, and grinned. “Told you it was good. You want the follow-up novel?”

He nodded. “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll bring it the day after tomorrow for you since you have class.” She tapped the book with her fingers before sliding it off the counter, and for a moment, he just stood there, watching her. There was something about the way she did things for him like she actually gave a damn, like lending him the book. It seemed just a casual thing but also showed that she’d thought about him.

And he liked that. More than he should.

His hand curled at his side, and his fingers twitched like they wanted to do something. Instead, he glanced around, searching for anything to distract himself with.

That’s when he saw it.

One of the shelves against the back wall sagged at an ugly angle, one side barely clinging to the wall bracket. He frowned. “Your shelf is falling.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. It’s been like that for a month. My boss keeps saying he’ll fix it, but…” She gestured vaguely to the still-broken shelf.

Bucky wet his lips. “I can fix it.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I can fix it.” He looked at her then, raising his brows just slightly.

Her lips twitched. “I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity, James.”

“You’re not.” He tipped his head toward the backroom door. “Let me see it.”

With a shake of her head, she sighed. “Alright. Knock yourself out.” She lifted the counter flap to let him pass through, and as he ducked beneath it, she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “Such a gentleman.” And he repressed a smile.

As he started to work, she stepped toward the counter. “Want a coffee while you’re at it? Nothing fancy, I bring it in my thermos from home.”

Bucky glanced up from where he was bracing the shelf, rolling his shoulder to ease a dull ache. “Yeah. Sure.”

She poured some into a plain ceramic cup, and just as she set it on the counter, the bell above the door jingled. Two men walked in, murmuring between themselves as they started browsing. She didn’t think much of it at first, but as she rang up their items, she caught the way their eyes kept flicking to Bucky, more precisely, to his left hand, exposed where he was securing a bracket.

Their whispers weren’t subtle. She didn’t catch all the back and forth but picked up some words.

“…murderer.”

“Why the government…”

“surely a sociopath-”

Her grip on the counter tightened. Assholes.

She flicked her eyes toward Bucky. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge them, but she knew he heard every word given his enhanced hearing. His movements slowed just slightly, his shoulders squared a little tighter.

Something hot burned in her chest.

“Get out.”

The two men stilled. “Excuse me?”

She folded her arms, fixing them with a flat stare. “You heard me. The house reserves the right of admission, and I decide you’re not welcome here.”

One of them scoffed. “For what? I didn’t do a thing.”

“You disrespected a veteran, and an Avenger, no less. Someone who puts his life at risk so you don’t have to.”

Bucky’s hammer stilled mid-swing.

The men bristled, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “Oh, come on, lady. You know what he is-”

“I know exactly who he is,” she snapped, stepping forward. “And I know you’re the kind of cowards who whisper about a man behind his back instead of saying it to his face.” She jerked her chin toward the door. “So, like I said, get out.”

The men looked between her and Bucky as if waiting for him to react. He didn’t. Just worked his jaw, and locked his gaze on the shelf like it was the only thing in the room.

The tension stretched, but she didn’t back down, didn’t look away.

Eventually, with a few muttered curses, the men turned around and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind them.

She exhaled sharply, with anger, then turned back to Bucky. He was still gripping the hammer, with his fingers curling around it like a lifeline. He wasn’t looking at her.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he finally said, quietly.

She shrugged, reaching for her coffee like her heart wasn’t still pounding. “Sure, I did.”

He then glanced at her, with an unreadable expression. Like he didn’t know what to do with the fact that she had chosen to stand up for him and lost customers because of it.

“You want some sugar with your coffee?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

Bucky blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. He almost wanted to smile.

“No, thank you,” he murmured, turning back to the shelf for the final touches. It didn’t need much fixing, just a few adjustments, and a new bracket, barely fifteen minutes of work. And now it was done. His excuse to be here was gone.

He swallowed down his disappointment and took a sip of the coffee instead.

She leaned against the counter, watching him, wrapping her fingers around her own mug. “That was a quick job. Guess I’ll have to break something else next time.”

Bucky’s grip on the cup tightened just slightly. Something else? Wait. Did she-

He tilted his head, gazing at her with mild surprise. “That so?”

She blinked, as she’d just realized she’d said it out loud. A beat of silence. Then, instead of backtracking, she simply lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug, “Maybe.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he took another sip of coffee, trying -failing- to ignore the way something warm curled in his chest.

Fuck it.

Stomping down the old instinct to talk himself out of it, to recall every failed date, every misstep, every why would she be interested thought, he decided to man up.

“Are you busy on Saturday?” He kept his voice even, aiming for casual, like it didn’t matter either way. Like her answer wasn’t about to determine whether he will spend the next week brooding.

She tilted her head, considering. “Well, that… depends.” Serious. A little guarded.

His stomach dipped. Shit. Did he misread-She was friendly, sure, but she was friendly with everyone. Just because she indulged him with a little extra care when he showed up didn’t mean she meant anything by it. Maybe she just felt bad for him. Maybe she was the kind of person who went out of her way to make people feel seen, and he was just another project, another lost cause that-

“If you’re asking me out,” she said, with a slow smile tugging at her lips, “then yes, I’m free. But-” she continued, “if you were about to suggest coming here after hours to see what else needs fixing… then no.”

Bucky exhaled, shaking his head. “Damn. And I wanted to impress you with my handyman skills.” He let himself flirt, just a little.

She hummed and then reached for his hand gently, as her thumb traced over his bruised knuckles. The warmth of her fingers, the softness of the motion, sent a tingle down his spine, straight to his chest, where it bloomed into something dangerously warm.

“You don’t need to impress me, Jamie.”

Jamie.

Oh, fuck.

“Just pick a time and place.”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.” And after a beat, “What do you think abou-”

The door swung open, and the bell jingled as a small crew of workmen entered. Bucky shut up immediately, scratching the back of his head as she turned to greet them.

“Good afternoon, guys. I’ll be with you in a sec.” Without missing a beat, she grabbed a scrap of paper, scribbled something down, and pressed it into his palm before turning to the customers.

Her number.

“Surprise me,” she murmured over her shoulder before slipping into work mode, shifting gears like she hadn’t just tilted his world off its damn axis.

Bucky stared down at the paper. Then at her.

Then, with a barely contained smirk, he tucked the paper into his pocket and walked out of the shop, already deciding on the perfect first date.

Dividers by:@/cafekitsune

[writingbluerose]

one more draconic feature | malleus draconia x reader

summary : you've invited Malleus to hang around by your dorm to enjoy each other's companies. Who would've known it ended with you exploring something else instead

warnings : SUGGESTIVE!! like some kissing shit but it's on another level lol ( as well as I can write it lol, I... can't write these stuff too well, but practice makes perfect ^^ )

a / n : this one is based on another comic I saw and also it could be read as another version to this drabble I made some time ago! Enjoy :3

The sun was already up and proud in the sky, giving the birds a chance to sing merrily from their place on top of the branches outside. It was around the end of February, the events at VDC were still a bit fresh but you had resumed your everyday life as always.

Today though, it was a particularly nice and peaceful day. In the now quiet Ramshackle dorm lounge ( after Grim has decided to go into your room to take a "very well deserved nap" ) a figure was sitting relaxed, in their element, on one of the old couches. And that figure was none other than Malleus Draconia. He had been invited by you to spend time together as the VDC had taken most of your time, becoming busier and busier by the day. And come on now, who was he to deny such a request from his beloved? Besides, he's told you many times, the books you've found sitting all dusty and forgotten in this dorm were some of the best pieces of literature he's ever read in his stay at this school, so for him it was a double win.

After some time of waiting, Malleus' ears picked up the faintest sound of footsteps coming in his direction, and then- “Hey there Hornton!” At the sound of your voice, Malleus chuckled and closed his book with a thud “Even now still calling me by the same endearing nickname. You're one of a kind my dear” You gave him a huffed laugh before coming to rest next to him “I didn't interrupt your reading again did I?” Your eyes met his in a quick exchange before he slowly shook his head in reassurance, “No of course not, don't worry about it. I must admit that even I sometimes am not aware of my surroundings, especially when I'm doing something I really am engrossed in” His hand rested on your head before giving you a pat and returning to his book once again. Both of you sat there in silence and after what seemed like an eternity Malleus had noticed you started fidgeting with your fingers, your leg slowly bouncing. A habit of yours he had picked up in the early days you've met, indicating that you were either nervous about something or itching to do something you were not supposed to. The fae's eyes followed your movements a little more before asking : “What is it you're itching to do hm? Are you looking to touch my horns again?” If you could look past the book, you'd be able to see his big smirk hidden behind the hard cover. “No! No! It's not that it's just...mmh — your eyes trailed to the floor, your leg not stopping its bouncing — I was just thinking about your horns. You told me long ago that your horns are a big part of who you are, it kinda represents your family right?” “Indeed so. Our horns are also a very sensible spot, it is the source of our magic, a vital point. Should they break... — his eyes narrowed — well you wouldn't want to know what would happen would you now?” You shook your head at his words before staring at him for a little while “You have other features right? As in, other features akin to a dragon's... I mean you have the eyes, the tail, I wonder if your tongue also looks like one...— ah but nevermind me!” Your mumbling abruptly came to an end after taking a look at Malleus and his shocked expression. What went through that little adorable head of yours hm? Malleus thought. “Well anyway! You know that does remind me of that one story I listened to one of Professor's Trein class...” Quickly loosing yourself in your explanations you failed to notice how Malleus was still looking at you with now a more mischievous expression, his smirk growing into a grin behind his book.

Closing it, not too hard so you wouldn't get startled, his arm slowly started to move towards your chin to grab it, which you failed to notice, still speaking, face red as beet. “Are you truly that curious?” His fingers grabbed your chin ( a bit too hard you would've liked to say ) and forcefully turned your face to his for you to be met with a sight that many people would consider the moment they're about to go to the after life ;

You heard a low growl and an almost mute hissss... as Malleus' mouth opened, revealing his white, long and sharp fangs as his tongue slithered out, long, forked at the tip and flickering through the air, his drool sticking to it and coming down his chin, eyes gleaming down at you like a snake who just caught a delicious prey. You gulped down before leaving a tiny shriek, your form trembling in his hold.

He closed his mouth, tongue licking his lips as his hand came to clean off the drool on his chin. The prince smiled down at you, “Well, did I satisfy your curiosity now, my love?” The tone in his voice left you knowing that he wanted to do much more, but after all, a predator usually waits for its prey's most vulnerable moment. “I-I uhh...uhmmm” He let out a loud snort “So? Is this enough to intimidate you? I'd be hard to believe after all these overblots you've faced” That damn teasing bastard. You signed, stopped, and inhaled again before saying : “Y-you looked... pretty... neat” Voice cracking, not being able to get his expression out of your mind, refusing to look your boyfriend in the eye.

One, two minutes passed before Malleus let out a thunderous laugh, amused and enjoying your reactions to the fullest. “My and here I thought I had frightened you! I must admit, teasing you has become one of my favorite activities to do!” You let out a loud 'HAH!' as if offended, though you both knew there was no venom behind the gesture“You didn't think I was done, do you?” “Wh-h-hey! Malleus!!” The fae prince's hands came to grab your waist pulling you into his lap, his eyes and movements giving an open space to a, new, primal feeling. His fingers found your shirt, unbuttoning it so he'd be given a clear view to your shoulders ; A moment passed before you felt his tongue slowly licking from the shoulder and stopping right under your chin. And he bit down, hard, making you let out a high pitched moan in pleasure. His mouth didn't leave your shoulder yet, and when he felt the first drop of blood coming out, his pupils dilated as he started sucking and licking until he left a deep mark “I haven't even done half the things I wish to do” So he said

His lips quickly found yours, kissing rough and passionate, forked tongue licking your lips asking for entrance. You hadn't dared to tease him or refuse his request, you know better than to do so at this moment. So when you parted his lips welcoming him in your warmth, Malleus let out a groan making you moan into the kiss in return. Grabbing him by his shoulders to steady yourself, his forked tongue hadn't missed a spot. It was so long and fuck did it feel so good it hasn't even been a full minute until you felt drool dropping down at the corners of your mouth.

Without realizing it, your hands went upper and upper until they found the base of his horns. You grabbed at it so hard that Malleus down right growled. So deep it could've come down as a threat for others, but when his hands grabbed your wrists keeping them in place for a split second, before going down to grip your waist, you understood his message : 'Don't you dare take your hands off' so you didn't. In fact, you gripped harder, fingers rising once again on the form of his horns, that's when Malleus parted his lips and moaned, husky and low.

His fingers went lower and lower on your tights, he didn't continue to kiss you right away, instead he came closer, panting in each other's mouths, needy and desperate for more. “Mal... we can't, we can't do this...” Your hands came down to hold his face and the fae closed his eyes at the contact, “Beloved, you cannot lie and tell me you don't wish for this as much as I do. Or do you truly not?” Avoiding his gaze, you inhaled a sharp breath. Of course you wanted to. “I- I do Malleus, fuck, of course I do” “Then please allow me” He lifted you up and positioned you on your back on the couch undoing the buttons of your shirt just a bit more, so he could get a peak at your chest.

Oh goodness, you were in it for now that's for sure

He kissed you on your lips, then traveled down to your neck, kissing slowly and softly down to your chest, fingers gripping and pressing at your skin leaving more tiny love bites in his wake, his ears picking up the faintest of whimpers and tiny moans. Smirking, he continued to press kisses down to your chest, moaning at the same time with you when your hands came to rest on his horns again. His eyes found yours, pupils dilated and face flushed, and for the first time you had spotted a new glint to them. One that only presented a raw feeling of lust and need. When he spoke, his voice sounded more exciting then he intended to let on : “I hope you're ready my love, for I won't hold back in the slightest”

© writingbluerose 2025

[connection-terminated-blog]

Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.

People who are not afraid to text you 40 times in a row and don’t take it personally if you haven’t replied are literally the most valuable members of our society and should be recognized as such

[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive - congressman bucky barnes

okay not my best work, i swear i have like nine drafts i've come up with in a week, none of them good enough to post.

this is inspired by miss possessive by tate mcrae even though i completely lost sight of the song really quickly

part 2

~~~

you really had no right to be so jealous.

you watched him from across the floor, sipping on your flute of champagne. you'd grabbed it off of one of those waiters' trays as they were walking about the room.

it tasted like shit. you didn't like the taste of wine, and it wasn't even enough to get you drunk.

you knew this kind of event was difficult for him to sit through, but hey, he made his choice going into politics.

you watched as he made his rounds, speaking to various donors and attempting to charm them. you watched as all their wives fawned over your-

no.

you watched as all their wives fawned over him, bringing him in for a hug instead of a handshake. of course they were interested; he was the best looking man here. yes, he was the oldest man in the room, but appeared to be the youngest and was, regardless, easily the most attractive. and all the thirty-some wives of the cranky old rich white men wanted him.

it pissed you off. not that you had the right to be pissed, but. oh well. you're just a girl.

after two flutes of champagne, you watch as one of the donors receives a phone call, leaving his wife with Bucky. ever the gentleman, he would never leave a woman all by herself in a room full of sharks who might try to snatch her up. 

Bucky was very much a different man than he was in the forties, of course. doesn't mean he lost the ability to attract every woman in the room.

you can't stand idly by as she puts his hands all over him, and he can't take his eyes off of her. no, of course he would never go for a married woman. what he did know, though, was that if he pissed her off, her husband wouldn't donate to his campaign.

you roll your eyes and decide it's time for some hard liquor.

you hide in the corner of the room, drinking your much stronger beverage as fast as possible. no, getting drunk at a professional event isn't the best idea, but what do you care. you're not the star of the show.

he is.

he's the brilliant ex-POW who's turned his entire life around in a whole new century. he's the gorgeous soldier who not only survived, but is also electing to do something meaningful with his life. 

he's the star tonight.

he's the star of every thought you have of your future, but that can't possibly come to surface now. it's not the time or place. 

watching him entertain this woman truly boils your blood, but at least you have some actual alcohol in your system now. you no longer feel the need to justify why her hands on his pristine suit makes you want to grab her by the diamonds around her neck and yank her off of him. you can justify your desire to grab him by the tie to pull him away from her and yell at him for not focusing on what's important. 

you bite your tongue. you knew it was all a ploy.

doesn't mean you had to like it. 

~~~

while you stand at the bar waiting for your second beverage of the evening, a man comes up next to you, and the bartender takes his drink order. 

you give him a small, awkward smile as you briefly make eye contact. you're kind of shocked: he's definitely the only man in this room who appears to be younger than 60, Bucky excluded.

you almost startle when he speaks up, introducing himself. Michael, he says his name is.

you turn to actually face him this time. roughly 40, plenty taller than you, and brown hair sprinkled with some greys in there. your perfect type. you quietly tell yourself you're done drinking–no way you're gonna fuck this up. if you weren't so mad about Bucky's new admirer, you might be a tad less inclined to speak to him, but… 

you step closer as you give him a real smile and introduce yourself.

"so, correct me if I'm wrong, but something tells me you're here alone tonight," he begins, indicating to your left hand. no ring. 

you laugh a little. 

"you would be correct," you tell him. "I could say the same about you."

he smiles back at you. it's so beautiful you forget all about your boss and the woman he's now got on his arm as he continues to walk around–

well. you almost forget. good enough.

"you would also be correct."

you explain why you're here, you work for one of the candidates. although, you don't tell him who, exactly. he explains why he's here, one of the patrons. you have to pry the information out of him, but you appreciate it: he's trying to talk to you without flashing his money in your face. it's noble, you think.

you eventually learn he's interested in actually getting to know the candidates' campaigns, not just what they think they can offer him in return for his money.

"you know, I would be happy to learn more about your boss' campaign. from one of the people who probably understands it best," he tells you. you're slightly taken aback for a moment, not aware this was a business interaction. you never even told him who your boss was, so it was confusing, to say the least.

you felt stupid for thinking he was actually interested, for thinking that he was flirting with you.

"oh, of course-" you begin to tell him, but he interjects, "after I take you out, perhaps?"

your smile perks back up subconsciously. so you didn't have it wrong.

"I would love that," you tell him, carefully taking the lapels of his jacket into your hands. you feel his hands come to your waist, and it's like a jolt of energy runs up your spine.

you look closer and almost flip your shit as you see his eyes up close. they're Bucky's eyes. he's not Bucky, sadly, but. 

you're fucked.

"maybe dinner can happen... another time?" you offer, hoping he gets the hint. you realize you probably look like a whore throwing yourself at him like this.

he chuckles. "I've got a room upstairs, if you'd like to come have drinks instead of dinner."

hell yes. you're gonna score tonight, even if it's not with the man you dream about with your hands between your legs every night-

"I would," you say, and bite your tongue. "I just... have to stick around until this thing is over. yeah?"

he nods and steps back. "I suppose I should also do what I came here for," he chuckles. "I'll come find you later?"

you smile and you feel your face go pink. "sounds good."

you can't help the fact that your gaze reverts immediately back to your boss the second the man walks off. Bucky hasn't spared you a single glance all evening, but the second you look back at him this time, you're suddenly staring into his beautiful eyes. 

he holds eye contact with you for what feels like an eternity. his expression is muted, no real emotion showing. maybe... curiosity?

of course he's not going to look mad, or upset, or jealous. you have to stop thinking he'd ever look at you with anything other than pure professionalism.

because he's everything. and you're just a kid, lost in the world, desperately in love with your boss, and everything is fucking falling apart around you.

at least you've got a rich, hot, older man ready to fuck you tonight.

~~~

you kept to your word to yourself and didn't drink for the rest of the night, although you continued hovering at the bar for the semblance of safety it provided.

you continued staring at Bucky for the next two hours. the clingy woman's husband had, in fact, returned and took her away from Bucky. clearly, she was pissed, but tried to hide it. you had to bite back a smirk.

he didn't look back at you once for the rest of the evening.

eventually, the crowd dies down. you realize that now, you have to explain to your boss that you won't be riding back to the office with him, effectively telling him your exact plans for the rest of the night. embarrassing!

you're almost ready to bite the bullet and bid Bucky a good night, scanning the room for him, when you hear a voice from behind you. 

"we still on for drinks?"

you plaster a smile on your face as you turn around to the man standing behind you.

"absolutely," you say, taking his hands. "lead the way."

you begin to follow the man, telling yourself to try and remember to shoot your boss a text to 'not worry about you' before getting your clothes torn off by this man who's currently whisking you away.

you get into the elevator with him, what's his name, you think? oh, Michael, and yank him in hard, crashing your mouths together, putting all of your energy into how badly you need this.

you're startled by the sound of a clanging of metal, ripping your mouth away from the man's and turning to face the noise.

well, apparently, you were too eager and stupid enough to not wait for the elevator doors to entirely shut, because you see now that the noise was a result of Bucky's vibranium arm grabbing the elevator door. he pushes it open and steps inside, eyes piercing daggers through you the whole time.

you stand there, appalled. the man gently pulls away from you, reaching out a hand to attempt to shake Bucky's hand.

"Mr. Barnes, it's a pleasure," he begins. "my apologies for this... less than ideal meeting."

Bucky doesn't even look at the man, eyeing you up and down, taking in your smudged lipstick and the way your dress is slightly out of place.

the man attempts once more to interject. "Mr. Barnes, please, don't worry about her. why don't us men go back downstairs and have a real discussion? I'd love to hear more about your campaign."

wait. why do his words sound like they're throwing you under the bus, almost?

Bucky notices it, too, you realize. he tilts his head in the man's direction before actually averting his gaze to look at him.

"and leave the lady all by herself?" he asks.

"don't worry about that. she's... inconsequential. if you and I can just go back downstairs and–"

"what did you just say?" Bucky asks. you swear he doesn't look like your boss anymore, but someone... else.

the man is taken aback by Bucky's demeanor. his mouth gapes like an idiot.

"you do know this is my assistant, right?" Bucky asks him. the man's face goes pale as the pieces slot together in his head.

"Mr. Barnes, my apologies, truly," he says.

you just stand there feeling more stupid than ever. inconsequential? wow, okay. you almost don't even care that he's dismissing your entire existence, but you can't stand the fact that he's doing it in front of Bucky. you care more about what Bucky thinks of you than literally anyone else, and now? now he's going to see you as a fucking slut who isn't even good enough for a man to commit to for one night.

god, you're pathetic.

"shouldn't you be apologizing to her?" Bucky grits.

the elevator doors open to the man's floor, and he mumbles a sorry under his breath as he runs out.

great. not only do you look pathetic in front of your boss, but you're not getting fucked tonight, either. just great.

the doors shut behind Bucky, who has now returned his gaze to you. you wonder if he's going to press the button to go back to the lobby.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Mr. Barnes," you say, swallowing your embarrassment as you stand up straight and adjust your dress.

he just stares at you.

"what?" you ask.

"are you okay?" he asks, and he looks genuinely concerned.

you know he cares about you, you're his assistant, after all. but that's it.

"fine," you assure him, and begin to reach behind him to press the button to take you back down to the lobby.

he gently grabs your wrist before you can.

you look at him, confused. you know your face says it all.

"Mr.–" you begin.

"Bucky," he corrects.

"can I press the button, Mr. Barnes?"

he still hasn't let go of your wrist. you feel stupid for enjoying the feel of his metal hand against your skin, for getting to feel a part of him that's real.

"you know, you clearly picked out the worst of the men here tonight," he observes.

you roll your eyes and pull your wrist away from him before you do something stupid.

"are you kidding? this place was riddled with capitalist billionaires and politicians. like you," you say, smirking.

he chuckles a little.

you can't help yourself, though. can't let it go unsaid.

"clearly you had some interested parties of your own tonight."

he rolls his eyes and finally turns away from you, pressing the button for the lobby. you let out a quiet sigh of relief. being in this elevator any longer, with him? that would just about kill you.

"you noticed that, huh?" he asks.

"who didn't?" you mumble. but of course, he's not just a politician, he's an enhanced, so he hears it.

"look, I knew she was married, I was never going to-" he begins to explain, but you cut him off.

"oh, I don't care what she does in her own fucked-up marriage."

oh my god. what did you just say? did you just admit to the fact that the only reason you did care was because she was fawning over Bucky?

fuck.

the elevator doors open, and you rush out.

you can hear the smirk on his face as he trails after you.

"so, you were really going to sleep with that guy, huh?" he teases.

you stop in your tracks. most everyone has left by now, leaving only you and Bucky in the room aside from the clean-up crew. you turn back to face him.

"can we just go?"

he nods and calls for the car to come around.

~~~

twenty minutes, you remind yourself.

in twenty minutes, you'll have made it back to the office, and you can go get in your own car and take yourself back to your own place and you won't have to be sitting thigh to thigh with your boss in the back of a limo that would totally be hot to fuck in-

he clears his throat, and you turn your head to face him.

"what that guy said..." he begins. you roll your eyes in anger at the reminder. you didn't even care he said it, you just wish he hadn't said it in front of Bucky.

you wave your hand as though waving off the thought, and waving off Bucky's concern. but it doesn't quite work like that.

"you're not inconsequential."

he says it with such a conviction you feel it deep in your bones, in the very core of your being. he sounds so authentic that it almost hurts.

a million thoughts swirl in your head. you could say i know, you could get defensive, you could say thanks, Bucky...

a better one pops in your head.

"how did you know where I was? you didn't see me all evening."

the limo stops moving. the driver rolls down the divider to grumble something about traffic at this hour? before rolling it back up again.

great. now it's going to take even longer to get home to your vibrator.

Bucky sees the interruption as a way to drop the matter. you press it.

"Mr. Barnes?"

"god, would you stop calling me that?"

you see him turn away from you to look out the window, biting his lip and rubbing his forehead. you've now frustrated him, and he's mad at you. this is good. it's easier for you to deal with him being angry at you than him being nice to you.

you know he just wants you to call him Bucky, but you're a smartass.

"yeah, okay, sorry. Sergeant Barnes," you mumble, smirking to yourself.

he about flips his shit. why is he getting so worked up?

"seriously?" he asks, turning back to you. his eyes are blown back, in anger, probably. not lust, like you wish they were. because you're just a stupid kid, and he's just your boss with a lifetime of trauma. you could never understand him the way you wanted to.

"what?" you say, biting your lip as you smile, continuing to tease him.

you swear that for a second, he glances down to your lips.

SHIT!

in that embarrassing moment, you realize your lipstick is still smudged across your face from the moment in the elevator. your heart rate shoots up as you bury your head in your chest, bringing your hand to wipe away the mess of your face, before turning to face the opposite way from him.

you are, well and truly, stuck in traffic. some concert, or sports game, or whatever...

which means you're stuck, pressed up against your boss, in the back of this tiny limo right now, for only god knows how much longer.

you're pulling your phone out of your clutch when he says your name.

you want to lean into the feeling, how smooth it is. how crisp his voice is, how pretty it sounds saying your name, as though he's genuinely paying you any attention whatsoever.

"you're not inconsequential."

it flares your anger, all of it coming up from your gut and into your throat, as you respond.

"god, would you forget it already?" you snap.

shit, shit, shit. you fucked up. you just snapped at your boss, of all people. you try to backtrack, throw out a million comments of "sorry," but that's it, you're getting fired.

you finally look back at him, and he's actually looking at you. like, it feels like he's staring into your soul, seeing all the pieces of you that you're trying to keep hidden from him.

the car begins moving again.

~~~

he watches you, trying to figure you out, as always.

he can't think of a better word for it than the fact that you genuinely amuse him.

he sees the look in your eyes, the way you're desperately trying to cover up the shame you feel over what happened in the elevator. he's trying to be gentle about it, trying to assure you that what the man said was utter bullshit, but you keep shutting him down.

god, and you look so...

no. you're, like, 80-plus years younger than him (he rubs his temples every time he remembers his age) and employed by him. any interest on his part would be purely inappropriate, a gross misuse of his position of power.

and god, his fucking age, man. he shouldn't even be around anymore-

anyways.

you look at him with those fucking doe eyes, going back and forth between anger, and shame, and something else he can't quite pinpoint.

this is probably the worst part of what happened. you're always so unapologetically yourself, but he can tell this man has gotten under your skin.

even if it's not his job to comfort you, he doesn't want you to feel like that. because who you are is perfect. 

~~~

one minute, you're staring into his eyes, trying to read the look on his face. 

the next, you're bracing yourself as the car spins out of control, feeling hit after hit of various cars all crashing into you sequentially.

you don't register it until after it's all over. the way he's wrapped himself around you as though to protect you. his flesh arm cradles your head to his chest and his vibranium hand wraps itself around the back of your neck.

you take a few deep breaths and begin to pull away from him, looking up to his face as you do. his eyes widen in shock as he looks at you. what? what is it?

"fuck, we gotta get you to a hospital." 

~~~

part 2 out NOW 3/23/25

masterlist

tag list

tagged: @clavedelune

[ilvermornie]

amortentia ୨୧ lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

in which lorenzo’s plans to keep his infatuation with you to himself fail (successfully?)

warnings none | masterlist

all of enzo’s friends knew he was in love with you. sure, he never outright said it himself, but these boys have known him since he was just a lonely kid sitting alone on the train to hogwarts, nervous for what was to come; they could read him like a book.

they noticed the way his eyes would fill with curiosity as soon as your name was brought up in conversation, needing to know what you’d been up to lately. they noticed how his voice would change whenever he’d speak to you - becoming softer, more gentle. most of all, they noticed all the crumpled up letters, failed attempts at confessing his undying love to you buried deep in enzo’s wardrobe. saying things has never been his strong suit.

after the fifteenth letter (one which included the line “if you don't want to date me that's okay but please give me a chance anyway”) was haphazardly shoved into the usual hiding spot, enzo decided to simply keep his little secret to himself. if he couldn't even write how he felt about you, how was he ever supposed to speak about it?

unfortunately for him, he made that decision a little too late, as the boys found the letters long before he had gotten to fifteen, and made it their lives’ mission to make you two official.

the plan started with a friday potions class.

“look at him, poor boy,” pansy whispered to draco, her eyes lingering on enzo’s figure as he stared longingly at his own cauldron of amortentia, as if willing you to come out of it.

draco hummed, now also staring at enzo with his brows furrowed. contrary to popular belief, he didn't enjoy other people’s misery - only those who deserved it, and enzo definitely did not deserve it. it was at that moment when draco decided to concoct a plan to finally bring his friend and his true love together. he was done toying around with the secret enzo had unknowingly shared with all of them.

seeing snape distracted with some hufflepuffs who just couldn’t seem to brew anything right, draco gestured for enzo’s partner, mattheo, to come over and help him come up with a plan. but if enzo was bad with words, mattheo was even worse when it came to gestures.

“what?” mattheo mouthed, his brows furrowing in confusion. draco tried again, his patience growing thin. this time, mattheo did get something out of draco; the wrong thing.

giving draco a thumbs up and a large smile, mattheo slyly pulled his wand out of his pocket and made the whole potion spill all over enzo.

instantly, enzo jumped, feeling a complete shift in his entire body. everything was warm, and he couldn’t think about a single thing but you. his mouth begged to betray him, wanting to say words he only ever thought about in bed, staring at his bedroom ceiling, but luckily he swallowed them down.

turning to mattheo, he yelled, “what the hell is wrong with you? why would you do that?”

“oopsies,” was all he got out of mattheo.

promptly, snape appeared and lectured mattheo for what he had done, deducting fifty points from his own house in the process. this didn’t faze him, partially because he never cared for the house point system anyway, and partially because just earlier that morning, he had overheard you talking to your friends about how you liked enzo back, you were just too nervous to tell him.

in mattheo’s eyes, he was doing you both a favour. did he know what would happen to someone who was doused with a fresh batch of amortentia? no, but he knew it would be something magical.

as soon as class ended, enzo ran to his dorm room and locked himself in there, trying to do anything to calm his nerves. he couldn’t be seen outside until the effects of this wore off, or else he’d do something that would result in him becoming the laughingstock of slytherin.

meanwhile, a heated discussion was happening in the slytherin common room.

“how was i supposed to know you wanted me to come over?” mattheo said, angrily sitting down on the deep green couch.

“because that’s what everyone does when they want someone to come over, you idiot!” draco shot back, exasperated as he paced around the room.

not wanting to waste any more time on draco and mattheo’s argument, as well as seeing the possibility of an opportunity coming out of this, pansy said, “okay, well, it’s already happened and there’s nothing any of us can do to reverse it. what happens to someone who just had amortentia poured on them anyway?” she turned to blaise, who’d been reading up on that very subject the entire time.

giving the textbook in his hand a quick glance, he replied, “it says here they become ‘consumed with their infatuation with the person the amortentia smells like’ and that they have to ‘fight the urge to do rash things as a result of that infatuation’,”

instantly, mattheo rose from the couch and exclaimed, “this is perfect! all we need is to bring y/n and enzo here and he’ll finally tell her how he feels!” then, to draco, he said, “who's the idiot now?”

the four didn't even have to move from their positions for their new plan to begin. a mere second later, you walked into the slytherin common room, a green and silver scarf in your hands.

“hey, is emilia here? she left her scarf...” you asked, scanning the room for both your friend and the boy you were madly in love with, and finding neither one of them. at this, you pouted. you had really hoped to see at least one of the two, especially the latter, since you were worried he’d been avoiding you lately.

guiding you to an empty seat, mattheo said, “nope, no emilia here, but don't worry! i’m sure she'll turn up soon,” as he did so, he gave pansy a look, urging her to distract you with conversation. after lorenzo, pansy was the one you got along with most, and distract you was exactly what she did. in fact, she did it so well you didn't notice a certain love-filled brunet come down the stairs to the common room.

after sitting with his feelings for a while, enzo felt the effects of the amortentia subsiding and decided to go down to the common room to give mattheo a piece of his mind, thinking he was in the clear. unfortunately, he was not, for as soon as his eyes met yours and he saw the way you brightened up, a large smile on your beautiful face, the effects of the amortentia were back and as if they never left in the first place.

he began to turn around, but ever-attentive theo had already seen him, “oh look, there’s lorenzo!” he said, smirking. enzo had no choice to stay where he was and pray that he didn't mess everything up.

“hi enzo!” you said, your hands immediately making their way to a stray piece of your hair as you tried to make yourself look as presentable as you could, “have you seen emilia? she forgot her scarf in class earlier today.”

enzo took a deep breath, making a mental script of what he was going to say so that the script the amortentia had planned for him wouldn't take over, “no, i haven't. sorry.”

your brows furrowed, being caught completely off-guard by his response. sure, enzo had his moments every once in a while, but this was too blunt, even for his worst days. as you pondered why he would be acting so strange, you noticed how flushed his face was.

getting up from where you sat and making your way over to him (much to his dismay), you said, “are you okay? you look a little red,” to which enzo just hummed, not trusting his mouth to say anything more.

‘it’s fine,’ he thought to himself, ‘as long as she doesn’t get any closer or say anything more, i should be fine.’

you put the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to feel his temperature, “are you sure you're okay?” you mumbled under your breath, concerned about how hot he felt.

enzo reached his breaking point, and the words came spilling out of him, “no, i'm not okay. how could i be okay when i’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now and haven’t been able to do anything about it? i tried everything! i watched those stupid muggle movies you like to see how they’d confess, i went to that love café in hogsmeade and asked the lady there how she thinks i should do it, i wrote fifteen failed love letters, fifteen! and none of it worked, so i just decided not to do anything about my feelings, but it was killing me, y/n, watching those other guys flirt with you, do all the things i wish i could do but couldn’t! and then today in potions, mattheo spilt amortentia all over me and now all i can think about is you, it physically hurt to keep this all inside of me, even now that i’ve said it all and ruined everything!”

the room was silent, save for draco who whispered, “who knew he could be such a sap?” to pansy.

meanwhile, your head was reeling, trying to absorb everything that had just happened. enzo had been just as in love with you as you had been with him this entire time, and you’d been nearly killing yourselves staying silent and hoping the other would say something.

while you were trying to process enzo’s unintentional confession, he was praying to anyone that would listen for you to just say something, even if it meant breaking his heart, at least then he'd finally know for sure how you felt. anything would've been better than the silence you faced him with now.

what broke you out of your trance was enzo storming off after realising he'd messed everything up, both his friendship with you and any chance he may have had with you as a boyfriend. quickly realising what you had done, you grabbed his hand, “enzo, wait.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just... in shock! i mean, wow, i’ve never been confessed to at all, let alone like this,” you felt your face getting warmer, still in complete disbelief at how this was your real life, “i like you too, enzo, as more than friends, and i think all that stuff you did is really sweet, even though i can tell you’re a little embarrassed about having to admit it.”

as soon as those words left your mouth, enzo’s mood did a complete 180 - he had never smiled a smile this wide in his entire life, he didn’t even know smiles could get as big as the one he had on right now, “really?” he asked, taking your other hand in his so he was now holding both. you nodded.

“okay then, let's rewind. y/n, would you like to go on a date to hogsmeade with me this saturday?” he asked, making a show of being perfectly chivalrous which had you stifling giggles.

letting one slip, you replied, “yeah, enzo, i’d love to. but can you just do me a quick favour first?”

“anything for you,” was his immediate reply, shortening the distance between the two of you as he cradled your head in his hands.

trying to ignore your racing heartbeat, you said, “send me those fifteen letters. i wanna read all of them.”

[connection-terminated-blog]

Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.

how that slot machine gonna look if you pull again

[theodorenmyth]

hi! not sure if soulmates counts as a weird au, but if you’re willing: would you write mattheodore + m!reader where matt and theo are in an established relationship as soulmates then discover you are also their soulmate? maybe people are like how tf do you have two soulmates???

fluff/smut/angst/whatever is good. if not, no problem! thanks

Three Threads of Love

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x m!reader x Theodore Nott

Summary ; You wake up with a dark green streak in your hair—proof that you’re soulmates with Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott. You try hiding, running, and even dyeing your hair, but they figure it out. After a dramatic meltdown (and an attempted escape), Mattheo and Theodore kidnap you with love—because, like it or not, you’re theirs now.

A/n ; this was so funny in my head while I was imagining this, enjoy!!

Warnings ; none

Word count ; 5.8k+

Soulmates.

The word alone was enough to make your stomach churn—not in disgust, but in reluctant acceptance of a fate that had never been yours.

Everyone at Hogwarts had some kind of soulmate mark. It wasn’t always instant, but by the time you reached your fifth year, you were bound to see at least something. A change in eye color, a faint tattoo-like symbol on the wrist, a string that tied you to another person, or the most dramatic of all—your hair turning the same shade as your soulmate’s.

You had seen it happen all around you.

It was beautiful. It was poetic. It was tragic.

And yet, it had never happened to you.

No colors. No scars. No strings. Nothing.

You were simply you, Y/N L/N, the single yet handsome and endearingly adorable Hufflepuff. The boy who didn’t have a soulmate mark.

At first, people assumed it would come later, that maybe you were a late bloomer. But when seventh year rolled around and you were still untouched by fate, the whispers started.

"What if he doesn’t have one?"

"Does the universe even allow that?"

"Oh, Merlin, imagine being born single. That’s actually tragic."

Even your friends—Cedric, Susan, and the rest of the Hufflepuff gang—joked about it. Not cruelly, but in a way that made you feel like some kind of rare specimen.

"Maybe you’re the universe’s loophole," Cedric had said once, slapping your back in amusement. "The one person meant to roam free."

You had laughed it off. Smiled. Accepted it. Because what else were you supposed to do?

There was no mark.

No connection.

No destined love waiting for you at the other end of a thread.

You were simply alone.

And you had made your peace with that.

Until, of course, fate decided to fuck you over.

─────────

You had always been a heavy sleeper.

So, naturally, it took something extraordinary to wake you up before the sun was even fully up.

This morning, that extraordinary thing was your own shriek.

You had barely cracked your eyes open when something felt off. Like, in-your-bones, gut-wrenching off. It wasn’t a feeling you could pinpoint, but there was a strange tingling in your scalp that made you sit up, groggy and disoriented.

And then you saw it.

A single lock of hair—once your usual shade—was now a deep, almost velvety dark green.

You stared.

It stared back.

And that was when the panic hit.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Cedric shot up from his own bed like he’d been hexed. “What the fuck?!”

“MY HAIR! MY FUCKING HAIR, CEDRIC!” You grabbed a strand and shoved it in his barely-awake face, eyes wild. “LOOK AT IT!”

Cedric blinked at you, then at your hair, then back at you. “…What am I looking at?”

“It’s green!” You nearly hyperventilated, clutching at your head like you could somehow shake the color out. “It’s not supposed to be green!”

Cedric squinted at the strand, realization dawning on his half-conscious face. “Wait. Wait. Oh, shit.”

You flopped back onto your bed, groaning dramatically. “Oh shit is right! I went my whole life thinking I didn’t have a soulmate, and now I wake up in seventh year with a bloody green streak in my hair?! Who the hell even has green hair?!”

Cedric was still staring at you, now fully awake and fully bewildered. “That—That means something, doesn’t it?”

“No, Cedric, it means nothing—I just suddenly decided to cosplay as a Slytherin overnight.”

“I knew you were hiding a Malfoy obsession.”

“Not the time.”

Cedric bit back a grin before running a hand through his own hair. “Okay. Alright. Breathe. Let’s think about this logically.”

You sat up again, dragging your hands down your face. “Logically? Logically, the only people in this damn school with this specific color of green hair are—”

And then it hit you.

Like an actual bludger to the skull.

Your entire body went stiff. Your brain blanked out.

Because there were only two people you had ever seen with this exact shade of dark green in their hair.

Mattheo Riddle.

Theodore Nott.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Cedric, ever the genius, saw the look on your face and immediately put two and two together. His jaw dropped. “Ohhhhhh.”

Your hands started shaking. “No. No way. That—That can’t be right.”

Cedric was already grinning like a madman. “It is right.”

“I—I don’t have a soulmate!”

“Well, you do now.”

You felt lightheaded. “No. No, this is a mistake. They’re already soulmates. Everyone knows they’re soulmates. You can’t have two. That’s not a thing!”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to your hair.”

You threw a pillow at him.

─────────

Meanwhile…

Across the castle, in the depths of the Slytherin dorms, Mattheo sat up so fast he nearly knocked Theodore off the bed.

“What the fuck—”

Theodore groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Mattheo, if you woke me up to tell me about your dream where you hexed Potter’s eyebrows off again—”

Mattheo wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring at the faint golden shimmer across Theo’s knuckles.

The same shimmer was now visible on his own wrist.

And they both knew what it meant.

Someone else had just been tethered to them.

“…Oh, fuck,” Theodore whispered.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You were not panicking.

You were perfectly calm.

If anyone asked, you were just casually wearing a hoodie with the hood up in the middle of breakfast, in a warm castle, surrounded by friends who knew you never wore a hood indoors.

Absolutely nothing suspicious about that.

…Except, of course, that you were suspicious. Very suspicious.

Which was why, when you slid into your usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, hands tucked into the sleeves of your oversized sweater, you were grinning a little too wide.

"Morning," Cedric greeted, shooting you a knowing glance as he buttered his toast.

"Morning!" you chirped back, voice an octave higher than normal.

Immediately, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott—who had been talking about some Charms essay—turned to look at you.

Both of them frowned.

"You’re being weird," Susan said flatly.

Your grin widened unnaturally, almost manic. "Me? Weird? Noooo."

Hannah squinted at you. "Why are you wearing a hood?"

"Oh! This?" You tugged at the fabric like you had just remembered it was on your head. "Uh—new fashion statement."

Susan exchanged a glance with Hannah before looking back at you. "Fashion statement?"

"Yup!" You nodded way too fast. "I decided to—uh, embrace the mystery, you know? Keep people on their toes! Make ‘em wonder what’s under here. It’s all the rage in—uh, France."

"France," Hannah repeated, deadpan.

"Yup!"

Susan folded her arms. "Y/N."

You laughed. "Yes, dear friend of mine?"

"You hate having anything on your head. You complain about hats. You threw a fit last winter when we made you wear a beanie to Hogsmeade."

"Ah! Yes, well, character development! Growth! The arc of my maturity—"

"Y/N."

You flinched at the tone.

Damn Hufflepuffs and their terrifying ability to detect bullshit.

Hannah narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers against the table. "Did Peeves glue something to your head again?"

"No!"

"Did you fail a spell and accidentally dye your hair pink?"

"Of course not!"

"Did a bird poop on your head?"

"What? No!"

"Then why are you hiding your hair?"

Your eyes darted across the Great Hall, looking anywhere but at them. "Oh! Look! Porridge!" You grabbed a spoon, stuffing a massive bite into your mouth, barely even tasting it.

Susan and Hannah exchanged another look, suspicion written all over their faces.

Cedric, the only one who actually knew what was going on, simply took a sip of his pumpkin juice, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"You’re lying," Susan declared.

Your spoon froze halfway to your mouth. "I—"

"You are lying!" Hannah gasped.

"I am NOT—!"

"You are literally grinning like someone who just got caught sneaking into the Restricted Section!"

"That is absurd!" You let out a completely unnatural laugh, shifting in your seat. "I am merely a man who enjoys the simple pleasures of life, such as porridge and— OH LOOK, A WINDOW."

You twisted your body to face the stained glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Unfortunately, this only made you look even more suspicious.

"Y/N," Susan started, voice low and accusing. "What did you do?"

"NOTHING!"

"Then why do you look like you’re about to bolt out of the room?"

"I just have a lot of energy this morning!" You were still grinning, voice high and unnatural. "You know, good sleep, nice weather—"

"You slept terribly and it’s raining outside."

"A fine drizzle!"

"You hate the rain!"

"I have learned to love it!"

"Y/N."

You shoved another spoonful of porridge into your mouth, avoiding eye contact.

────────────

At the Slytherin Table

"Alright, spill," Pansy Parkinson demanded the second Mattheo and Theodore sat down.

Astoria Greengrass, seated beside her, gave a more subtle approach, raising a perfectly shaped brow. "Something happened. I can feel it."

Draco Malfoy, sipping his tea, barely looked up. "They probably got into a fight. Again."

Blaise Zabini, on the other hand, leaned in with genuine curiosity. "No, they look… weird. Like, different weird. You two aren’t possessed, are you?"

Lorenzo Berkshire, who had been half-asleep against Draco’s shoulder, finally stirred. "If they are, can we exorcise them after breakfast?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "We’re not possessed, Lorenzo."

"Could’ve fooled me."

Theodore, who had been staring at the shimmering mark on his knuckles all morning, finally spoke. "Someone’s been tethered to us."

Silence.

Then—

"I’m sorry, what?" Pansy practically screeched.

Draco choked on his tea.

Blaise blinked in pure disbelief. "How?"

"That’s not possible," Astoria added, looking at them like they had both grown second heads. "You two are already bonded."

Mattheo tapped the golden shimmer across his wrist, the mark still faint but very real. "Yeah, well. Tell that to fate."

"This is insane," Pansy said, eyes wide. "People don’t get two soulmates. That’s—That’s like—"

"Unheard of," Astoria finished, still staring at their marks.

Draco, for once, looked genuinely intrigued. "Have you figured out who it is?"

"Not yet," Theodore muttered, though his gaze flickered across the Great Hall.

"Whoever it is," Mattheo said, smirking slightly, "they’re probably freaking out right now."

Theodore huffed. "You would find this amusing."

"Oh, come on, Theo. Think about it." Mattheo propped his chin on his hand, eyes glinting with amusement. "Some poor bastard woke up this morning with a soulmate mark linking them to us. That’s gotta be terrifying."

"You are terrifying," Blaise agreed.

Mattheo winked. "Why, thank you."

As the conversation continued, Theodore let his gaze wander again, scanning the room.

And then—

There.

At the Hufflepuff table.

A figure slouched in their seat, hood pulled up, looking like they were actively trying to disappear.

Theodore’s lips parted slightly.

Mattheo noticed, following his line of sight—

And promptly grinned.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh."

Draco noticed too, and his brows shot up. "Wait. L/N?"

Pansy nearly dropped her goblet. "You’re joking."

Astoria let out a soft, surprised laugh. "Oh, this is going to be interesting."

Blaise, meanwhile, was just staring at you in utter disbelief. "Him? The guy who’s never had a soulmate mark? The one everyone thought was doomed to be single forever?"

Lorenzo yawned, rubbing his eyes. "I bet he’s panicking."

Mattheo smirked. "Oh, definitely."

Theodore, watching you sink lower into your hoodie, exhaled deeply. "We should talk to him."

Mattheo cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming. "Absolutely."

────────────

Back at the Hufflepuff Table

You had a bad feeling.

A very bad feeling.

Because the moment you dared to glance up, you found two pairs of eyes locked onto you from across the hall—one dark and intense, the other sharp and calculating.

Mattheo and Theodore.

Staring at you like they had just figured out exactly who their third soulmate was.

You gulped.

Cedric, noticing your expression, leaned in. "They know, don’t they?"

You swallowed thickly. "They definitely know."

Susan, still confused, followed your gaze—only to see two of the most dangerous Slytherins in the school actively plotting your demise with their eyes.

"...Y/N," she said slowly. "What did you do?"

You groaned, shoving your face into your hands. "I think I got soulmated."

Cedric grinned. "Told you fate wasn’t done with you yet."

"Shut up, Diggory."

But deep down, as panic turned into something dangerously close to excitement, you couldn't help but wonder

What the hell were Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott going to do about this?

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Everything was fine.

You were fine.

You were totally fine.

Which was why you were currently walking through the courtyard with your friends, laughing along to one of Cedric’s stories while keeping a firm grip on the hood of your oversized sweater.

Just in case.

Because if anyone so much as glimpsed your hair—if anyone saw that stupidly obvious green streak that had appeared overnight—your life would be over.

Dead. Gone. Vanished.

The headlines would read: Y/N L/N, Hufflepuff Extraordinaire, Found Dead Due to Pure, Unfiltered Embarrassment.

Susan and Hannah still hadn’t stopped being suspicious, but you had managed to redirect most of their attention onto a very detailed discussion about which professor was the scariest.

"McGonagall."

"No way, Snape."

"Flitwick."

"…Flitwick?"

"You’ve never seen him angry. I have. It was horrifying."

You were just starting to think you’d actually get through the day undetected when the absolute worst thing possible happened.

Flint.

Marcus fucking Flint.

One of the dumbest, most obnoxious Slytherins in existence.

You didn’t even see him coming.

One second, you were minding your business, strolling along, successfully avoiding any and all suspicious activity.

The next?

A rough hand yanked the hood off your head.

"Oi, L/N, what are you hiding—"

Silence.

The courtyard froze.

You felt a chill run down your spine.

Oh, no.

Your friends stared.

The Hufflepuffs around you stared.

The entire courtyard stared.

Because right there, in broad daylight, your previously normal hair was now a very, very noticeable shade of blonde—except for the bold dark green streak running through it.

Your soulmark.

That exact shade of dark green.

Slytherin green.

Mattheo-and-Theodore green.

Susan's jaw dropped.

Hannah gasped.

Cedric, to his credit, didn’t look that surprised—just vaguely amused.

But Flint?

Flint howled with laughter. "OH, THIS IS RICH! L/N’S BEEN SOULMATED TO A SLYTHERIN—"

You did not let him finish.

Nope.

Absolutely NOT.

Instead, fueled by pure, raw panic, you pulled out your wand, muttered something under your breath—

And disapparated.

One second, you were in the courtyard, standing in front of way too many people.

The next, you were gone.

Vanished.

Just poof.

─────────

Hufflepuff Dormitory, Five Minutes Later

You were not hyperventilating.

Okay, you were, but no one needed to know that.

You were pacing back and forth in your dorm, hands buried in your traitorous hair, breathing way too fast.

"This is bad. This is so bad. This is—FUCK—this is really bad—"

Cedric walked in, looking entirely unsurprised to find you in full meltdown mode. "You vanished in front of half the school."

"Yes, Cedric, I am aware."

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "So, what’s your plan?"

"My plan?" You let out a deranged laugh, spinning to face him. "My plan is to fake my death, move to a small cottage in the woods, and never be seen again."

"That’s not a plan," he pointed out, far too calmly.

"It is if you commit."

"Y/N."

"What?"

"You could just talk to them."

You stopped pacing to glare at him. "Oh, wow, what an idea, Cedric. Talking. Genius. Brilliant. Too bad I have crippling anxiety and would rather gouge my eyes out."

Cedric sighed. "Okay, so what are you going to do?"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

And then—

An idea.

A glorious, absolutely stupid idea.

You turned to your trunk, rummaging through it until you found your wand and one of your old spellbooks.

Cedric raised a brow. "Y/N…?"

You flipped through the pages frantically. "There’s a hair-dyeing spell in here somewhere—I know there is—aha!"

Your finger landed on the page.

"Here! This! Temporary. Quick. Lasts about a day. Perfect."

Cedric blinked. "You’re going to—what? Hide it?"

"Yes."

"With a spell that lasts one day?"

"YES."

He stared at you.

Then sighed. "I don’t know why I expected anything else."

─────────

Back in the Great Hall

While you were busy spiraling, the entire school was losing its collective shit.

The moment you vanished, the courtyard had erupted.

The whispers spread fast.

And within minutes, the whole castle knew:

You, the beloved Hufflepuff, notorious single person, widely believed to be soulmate-less—was actually tethered to two of Slytherin’s most infamous students.

"You have got to be joking."

Pansy, still sitting at the Slytherin table, was staring at Mattheo and Theodore.

"He literally teleported away," Draco said, sipping his tea. "That’s how panicked he was."

Lorenzo whistled. "Damn. That’s impressive."

"We need to talk to him," Theodore said, his normally calm demeanor just slightly off-kilter.

Mattheo was already grinning. "Oh, definitely."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Well, I hope you two have a good plan, because Y/N is probably halfway to Albania by now."

Mattheo just cracked his knuckles. "Don’t worry, Pans. We’ll find him."

And when they did?

You were not getting away.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You woke up the next morning with a single, hopeful thought:

Maybe it was all a dream.

Maybe your hair was still normal. Maybe you hadn’t accidentally revealed your soulmark to half the school. Maybe you hadn’t literally disapparated in front of everyone like a fucking lunatic.

Maybe.

You slowly reached for your wand on your nightstand, hesitated, then conjured a mirror in your shaking hand.

Then, you looked.

Your heart sank.

The spell had worn off.

The bright green streak was back, glaringly obvious against your blonde hair.

You let out a slow, defeated sigh.

"Fuck."

"Still there?"

You flinched so hard you nearly fell out of bed. "CEDRIC—"

"Sorry," he said, entirely not sorry as he leaned against the doorway. "But considering you screamed like a banshee yesterday, I figured I should check in before you self-combust."

You groaned, pressing your hands to your face. "This is so bad."

"Oh, definitely."

"Cedric."

"What? You want me to lie to you?"

"Yes."

"Fine," he said, deadpan. "It’s completely fine. No one noticed. The entire school is not talking about it. Also, you definitely didn’t magically vanish in front of fifty people."

You glared at him through your fingers. "You’re the worst."

"I am the best. Now get dressed."

"Why?"

"Because if you hide in here forever, Mattheo and Theodore will find you eventually, and you don’t want to know what their reaction will be if you avoid them all day."

You blanched. "Oh, fuck, you’re right."

"Obviously."

"I need to hide."

"No, you need to face them."

"Or I could hide."

"Y/N."

"Cedric."

"I swear to Merlin, if you don’t—"

But you were already flipping through your spellbook again.

"There! Temporary hair-color alteration! Lasts three hours—"

Cedric sighed so hard it sounded like he aged five years. "You’re stalling."

"I like stalling."

"It’s only going to get worse if you don’t talk to them."

"Maybe I want it to get worse."

"You don’t."

You ignored him, casting the spell and watching with relief as the streak disappeared, replaced with your natural hair color.

Cedric just shook his head. "You’re an idiot."

"And yet, a smart idiot, because no one will know—"

─────────

The Great Hall

You walked into breakfast with false confidence.

You were fine.

Your hair looked normal.

Everything was fine.

You sat down at the Hufflepuff table, flashing an overly large grin at your friends. "Morning, everyone!"

"Morning—"

"Why are you so chipper?" Susan asked immediately.

You blinked. "What? No reason."

Hannah squinted. "You’re acting weird."

"Weird? Me? That’s crazy talk!" You laughed, but it was too high-pitched, too forced. "I’m totally normal! Nothing to see here!"

Cedric, sitting beside you, sighed.

Susan’s eyes narrowed. "And why are you still wearing that huge hoodie?"

"Because I like it."

"It’s eighty degrees outside."

"I really like it."

"Y/N."

"What?"

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing!" You shot her another wild grin, your eyes darting across the room.

Unfortunately, your eyes immediately locked onto the Slytherin table.

More unfortunately?

Mattheo and Theodore were already staring at you.

Your breath hitched.

They knew.

You didn’t know how they knew, but they definitely knew.

Mattheo was grinning, sharp and predatory, like he was waiting for you to run.

Theodore was watching you with his usual unreadable expression—calm, controlled, but his gaze felt heavy, like he could see right through you.

You snapped your head back around, facing your plate with great intensity.

Don’t panic. Stay calm. They’re just people. They’re just—

"Oh, my Gods, you’re definitely hiding something."

You nearly choked on your pumpkin juice. "NO, I’M NOT."

"You so are," Susan said, pointing an accusatory finger. "Your eyes are darting all over the place and you’re grinning like an absolute maniac—"

"That’s just my face—"

"You’ve got that ‘I just committed arson’ look again."

"I do not—"

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—"

"Oh, for fuck’s sake, just tell us already—"

And then—

A horrible, terrible, awful voice spoke up from behind you.

"What’s wrong, L/N? Something you don’t want people to see?"

Your stomach dropped.

Flint.

Again.

And before you could even react.

He yanked your hood down.

Again.

Your heart stopped.

Because this time?

Your fucking hair wasn’t hidden.

The room fell silent.

And just like yesterday—

Every single person in the Great Hall stared.

Your brain completely short-circuited.

"Oh," Blaise said from the Slytherin table, his eyes widening. "Holy shit."

"Well," Pansy muttered, staring. "That explains a lot."

"Oh, wow," Lorenzo added, blinking. "That’s…kind of hilarious."

Draco just sipped his tea, unbothered. "Knew it."

Your breathing turned shallow.

"Welp," you said, voice higher than normal. "Guess that’s my cue to—"

You didn’t even finish your sentence before casting another disillusionment spell—

And disappearing.

Again.

Leaving the entire Great Hall in absolute chaos.

And at the Slytherin table, Mattheo and Theodore just exchanged a look.

Then, simultaneously, they stood up.

It was time to find you.

And this time?

You weren’t getting away.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ───

You had exactly two thoughts as you sprinted back to your dorm at breakneck speed:

1. Flint is a dead man walking.

2. I am so, so, so utterly, catastrophically fucked.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you practically threw yourself through the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room, ignoring the confused stares of your housemates. You raced up the dormitory stairs, slammed the door behind you, and immediately started hyperventilating.

Think. Think. THINK.

Your cover was blown. Your very obvious, very incriminating soulmate mark had been exposed to the entire school. And, worst of all—

Mattheo and Theodore had seen it.

And they were going to find you.

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered, pacing like a panicked rodent caught in a trap. "Okay. Okay, Y/N, you can fix this. You just need to—"

You didn’t even know what you needed to do. Hide? Run? Fake your own death?

"Mate."

You whipped around to see Cedric leaning against the doorframe with the most done expression you’d ever seen on his face.

"You cannot be serious."

"Oh, I am so serious," you hissed, wild-eyed. "This is life and death, Diggory!"

"No," he corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is you being insanely dramatic about the inevitable."

"There is nothing inevitable about this," you shot back. "I still have time to flee the country—"

"You do not have time to flee the country," he groaned. "And even if you did, Mattheo and Theodore would just hunt you down."

You flinched. "That’s exactly what I’m afraid of."

Cedric just sighed and crossed his arms. "You do realize that the whole point of soulmates is that you’re meant to be together, right?"

"Yes, well, maybe fate should have consulted me first, because I was not prepared for this," you muttered, gripping your hair. "I mean—two? Who the fuck gets two soulmates?!"

"Apparently, you."

"That’s not helpful, Diggory."

"It wasn’t meant to be helpful," he deadpanned.

You groaned again, throwing yourself onto your bed and burying your face in a pillow. "This is a nightmare."

"This is hilarious," Cedric corrected. "And I would kill to see Mattheo and Theodore’s reaction right now."

At that exact moment—

Someone knocked on the dormitory door.

Your entire body went rigid.

Cedric’s eyebrows raised. "That was fast."

You slowly lifted your head from your pillow. "No. No, no, no, no. That is not them. That could be anyone."

Another knock.

This time, louder.

Your soul left your body.

Cedric smirked. "You gonna answer that, or should I?"

"Neither," you whispered in abject horror. "We ignore it. We pretend we’re dead."

"Pretty sure they won’t buy that."

"Well, I’m willing to test that theory—"

"Y/N."

You froze.

Because this time, it wasn’t a knock.

It was a voice.

A deep, smooth, terrifyingly familiar voice.

"Open the door."

Mattheo.

You squeaked.

"We know you’re in there," another voice added, calm and even.

Theodore.

Cedric grinned. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

You whipped around, eyes wild. "CEDRIC, DO NOT OPEN THAT—"

But the bastard had already swung the door open.

You felt your soul exit your body.

Because standing in the doorway, looking directly at you, were Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott.

And they looked very, very determined.

"Hi, boys," Cedric greeted cheerfully. "Come to collect your runaway soulmate?"

Mattheo smirked. "Oh, absolutely."

Theodore just tilted his head, eyes locked onto you. "You have nowhere to run now, Y/N."

You laughed nervously, scooting backward on your bed. "Okay, okay, let’s just—relax, yeah? Let’s be rational about this—"

Mattheo took a single step forward.

You yelped and scrambled off the bed. "I’m very flattered—honored, even—but I think there’s been a terrible mistake—"

"Oh, there’s no mistake," Theodore interrupted, his voice soft but firm. "You are ours."

Your breath hitched.

Mattheo grinned, dangerous and amused. "And we’re not letting you run anymore, sweetheart."

You felt your entire nervous system short-circuit.

And Cedric?

He just sat back, crossed his arms, and grinned like the smug asshole he was.

"Oh, this is so much better than I imagined."

You were pretty sure your entire nervous system had just crashed and rebooted.

Because Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott were standing right there—inside your dormitory—blocking the only exit—and looking at you like you were a cornered rabbit.

Which, to be fair, you were.

You were already mentally preparing your last words, calculating how long it would take to jump out the window and debating whether or not you could survive the fall.

"Y/N," Theodore said calmly, taking a slow step forward. "We just want to talk."

"Do you?" you squeaked, pressing yourself against the nearest desk as if it would swallow you whole and save you from this nightmare. "Because I feel like this is less of a talking situation and more of a trapping me in my own dormitory situation."

Mattheo grinned, dark eyes glittering with amusement. "You say ‘trapping’ like we’re holding you at wandpoint, sweetheart."

"Emotionally, you are!"

Theodore sighed. "Why are you running from us?"

"Uh—self-preservation?"

Mattheo snorted. "Dramatic much?"

"YOU SAY THAT LIKE THIS ISN’T A VERY SERIOUS SITUATION!" You flailed your arms wildly, your breathing coming out erratic as your brain scrambled for an escape plan. "I WOKE UP WITH A SOULMATE MARK! NOT ONE! BUT TWO! THAT’S NOT NORMAL! I’M NOT NORMAL! MY LIFE IS OVER!"

"You’re being a little theatrical," Theodore muttered.

"THEATRICAL?" you shrieked, gesturing at your hair like it had personally betrayed you. "I—LOOK AT THIS! I LOOK LIKE A REJECTED HOUSE ELF!"

Mattheo cackled. "Merlin, I love this guy."

"NO YOU DON’T!" You spun on your heel, calculating your chances of breaking through the door and making a run for it. Spoiler alert: Not good.

Theodore sighed, rubbing his temples. "Y/N, we are literally standing here trying to talk to you. You are making this way harder than it needs to be."

"I’M MAKING IT HARDER?" You gasped, putting a hand to your chest like you were about to have a Victorian-era fainting spell. "Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize waking up with my entire destiny rewritten required a casual conversation over tea and biscuits!"

Mattheo smirked. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

"It is a terrifying thing!" you corrected. "You two have been together for years! And now—now I just suddenly appear in the equation?!"

"You didn’t just appear," Theodore said, calm and steady as ever. "You were always meant to be a part of this, Y/N."

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE A LOAD OF COSMIC BULLSHIT!"

You twisted your body, suddenly darting to the left—

—only for strong arms to wrap around your waist and yank you backwards before you even got the chance to move three feet.

"Oh you little shit—" Mattheo laughed, tightening his grip as you kicked and flailed like a deranged cat. "Did you just try to run?"

"CEDRIC DIGGORY, YOU HELP ME RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" you bellowed, desperately reaching out toward your dormmate, who was watching the entire scene unfold from his bed with an expression of sheer amusement.

Cedric raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "Nah, I think I’ll sit this one out."

"TRAITOR!"

"Oh, calm down, sweetheart," Mattheo grinned, leaning down to murmur in your ear. "You act like we’re about to kidnap you."

"YOU MIGHT AS WELL BE!"

"You are so dramatic," Theodore muttered.

"THIS IS A JUSTIFIED REACTION!"

"You’re flailing like a fish," Mattheo added. "It’s kinda adorable."

"STOP CALLING ME ADORABLE, I AM STRUGGLING FOR MY LIFE!"

"Oh my god," Theodore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, just breathe. You’re not dying. You’re not being held hostage. You’re just ours now. That’s all."

"THAT’S ALL?!" You gaped, struggling even harder. "‘That’s all’?! You’re acting like you just told me my schedule has changed, not that my entire FATE HAS BEEN TIED TO TWO OF THE MOST TERRIFYING SLYTHERINS IN EXISTENCE!"

Mattheo smirked. "Terrifying, huh? I like that."

"SHUT UP, RIDDLE!"

"You know," Cedric interrupted, tilting his head thoughtfully, "for someone who’s been single his whole life, you’re really bad at handling affection."

"I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED AFFECTION BEFORE, CEDRIC! THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED TERRITORY!"

"So what I’m hearing is," Mattheo grinned, "we just need to get you used to it."

"NO—"

Before you could scream in protest, Mattheo spun you around, forcing you to face them as Theodore took a step closer, his gaze softer now.

"Y/N," he said, firm yet gentle, "you are ours. Whether you accept it now or later, that fact won’t change. You belong with us."

"That sounds dangerously like a threat," you muttered.

Mattheo chuckled, tilting his head. "More like a promise."

Your stupid, traitorous heart stuttered at the way they were both looking at you.

You took a deep breath.

Then promptly threw yourself onto the floor.

Mattheo blinked. "Did he just—?"

Theodore sighed deeply. "Yes. He did."

Cedric snorted. "Oh, this is gold."

"I’M DEAD!" you announced from the floor, sprawled out dramatically. "You cannot claim me if I'm dead!"

Mattheo just laughed. "Oh, darling, you have no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You were still on the floor, arms spread out like a tragic hero, contemplating your life choices as Mattheo and Theodore stared down at you.

Mattheo was smirking, his arms crossed, while Theodore looked half-amused, half-exhausted, like he had already aged ten years dealing with your antics.

"Y/N," Theodore sighed. "You cannot just lay there and pretend you’re dead."

"Watch me," you muttered.

"You are so painfully dramatic," Mattheo cackled, nudging your leg with his foot. "C’mon, sweetheart. Get up before someone steps on you."

"I am the floor now. The floor and I are one. I have embraced my fate."

Cedric, still sitting comfortably on his bed, chuckled. "So, is this just how you’re planning to handle your entire soulmate situation? Just...playing dead?"

"YES!"

"That’s not a bad plan," Mattheo mused, stroking his chin. "Bit flawed though. ‘Cause y’know, we’re not leaving you alone, sweetheart."

"You say that like it’s a good thing!"

"It is," Theodore said, deadpan. "And you’re going to have to accept it eventually."

You made a pained noise, covering your face with your hands. "I don’t know how to be a soulmate! I’ve been single my whole life! I was mentally prepared to be a lone wolf forever! The universe did not prepare me for two soulmates, let alone you two!"

"So what you’re saying is," Mattheo grinned, "you were ready to be miserable forever, but now that you actually have soulmates, you’re just freaking out instead."

"YES!"

Theodore let out a long, suffering sigh, like he was praying for patience. "Y/N, you’re acting like we’re asking you to perform some kind of ancient ritual. You’re our soulmate. That’s it. You don’t have to ‘be’ anything except yourself."

You peeked at him between your fingers. "But you two already have each other. What if I just—mess everything up?"

At that, Mattheo’s smirk softened, and Theodore’s eyes turned gentler.

"You won’t," Theodore said, calm and steady, like he was stating a fact rather than a hope.

"We wouldn’t be bonded to you if you weren’t meant to be ours," Mattheo added. "The universe is a bitch, but it’s not wrong."

You groaned, kicking your legs against the floor like a toddler. "You guys are making this too real! Let me have my panic, dammit!"

Mattheo laughed, and before you could protest, he scooped you up off the ground, hauling you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"WHAT THE HELL, RIDDLE? PUT ME DOWN!"

"Nah," Mattheo grinned. "You had your fun. Now it’s our turn."

"THIS IS LITERAL KIDNAPPING!"

"Nope, just soulmate bonding," Theodore said smoothly, walking beside Mattheo as if this was completely normal. "And considering how much you’ve avoided us, we have a lot to catch up on."

"CEDRIC, CALL THE MINISTRY! I’M BEING TAKEN!"

Cedric just grinned, waving lazily. "Have fun, Y/N."

"YOU’RE THE WORST, DIGGORY!"

"Love you too, mate!"

You screamed dramatically, kicking your feet, but Mattheo just laughed, tightening his hold on you like he was never letting go.

And the worst part?

Despite all your protests—despite your chaotic, overdramatic panic—

There was a small, traitorous part of you that didn’t want him to.

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 9 - what's next in love ?

masterlist / ko-fi

my last reading : who likes you ? who wants to get closer to you ?

This is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

DISCLAIMER : When I talk about love, I include every single forms of love (eros, philia, storge, self-love...). If you are solely looking for romantic love between two people, pass on this reading for this time.

ANNOUNCEMENT : I will soon share with you something I have been working on... The month of April will be full of surprises so stay on the look out for updates... Little hint : it has to do tarot services hehe

Pile 1

The Emperor, The Fool, Page of Cups (back of the deck - Knight of Wands )

Your pile is represented by the King of Wands.

Right off the bat, I am picking up on a young, wild and free and really flirty energy here. You might be in a talking stage with someone. There might be a lot of banter between you guys. A lot of snarky back and forth comments. If you are not talking to anyone or one specific person at the time, you are just doing you, having fun and trying to get the best out of life. I am just getting a really free spirited energy here. You might be in a phase in your love life where you’re more open and you let things flow. I don’t think you are actively looking to settle right now. You just enjoy lifing and the company of others, and if it means having a flirty conversation with the bartender or waiter, then you are going to do so without thinking much of it.

I shuffled your tarot cards after writing the paragraph above and OH BOY was I picking up on the right energies. I audibly screamed when your cards fell as it is probably the first time in my readings that my spirit guides listened to me and gave the exact amount of cards I asked for all at once (my spirit guides are usually little pranksters they love to test my patience i am sure they are geminis lmaoo). You got the Emperor, followed by The Fool and then the Page of Cups with the back of the deck being the Knight of Wands… TALK ABOUT FIERY ARIES ENERGY BABY ! Your pile is giving me so much energy right now this is insane. 

What I see for you next in love is just the continuation of this wild and free energy. Continue to cater to your needs, to be your own boss, to be open to going out. Hang out with friends, be a little cocky and savage, a little wild. Do not hesitate to dress up, to make yourself look good. You are entering a period of your life where you are extremely attractive and magnetic. There might in fact be a lot of eyes on you, Pile 1. And, let’s be real for a second : you are probably aware of all of them but none of them really match your vibe, and they know it too so they never really approach you. 

But, what I am seeing, in a few months from now, probably 8 to 10 months, a specific person will totally match your vibes (and your freak hehe). They will come at you slowly but surely. You guys will still be in this fiery energy, not really seeking love actively. They will come and you might not see a potential right off the bat. They might find you attractive and like your vibes the moment they meet you, but I don’t think they will necessarily see you as a potential lover either. It will only be “by accident” that you guys will build a connection. I see a really hot couple, looking good and smelling good, posting on social media, traveling and sipping on some margarita on a terrace in Paris. 

Now,.. I will be honest, I do not think this relationship will be a long term one. It might last 7 months to 1 year, maybe even 1 year and a half maximum. However, not being long term does not mean it will be a waste of time. I think you will enjoy yourself and not regret one bit when the relationship will end. Your breakup will most likely be on really good terms, and most of you will stay friends after separating. 

If you are solely looking for long term relationships, you can easily pass on this one and wait more to find a better fit for you. Personally, I think this relationship could be revitalising for a lot of you who have gone through a pretty traumatic breakup / divorce that left you in pieces. It will remind you that love doesn’t have to be complicated. But then again, you have all the free will to choose whether you want this relationship or not. 

House Five - Passion, play, children, confidence and creativity, House Nine - Spiritual growth, Mercury - Think, learn, network and communication, Fire - Confidence, optimism, passion and bravery. 

Again, the flirty and fiery energy is coming back. Some of you could benefit from being on dating apps, even if it is just to meet friends. Right now, the best thing you can do is focus on yourself while spending time with your friends and just nurturing your friendships. 

I would advise you to go to (gay) clubs, raves, any social event where you could bring friends with you and have a blast, especially events surrounding music, such as concerts and festivals, all of that ! You could meet really great people there, friends you will have a bunch of fun with and with whom you will share great laughs together.

What’s next in love is a lighthearted energy and the realization that life doesn’t necessarily have to be heavy all the time. Let yourself breathe freely, add some spice and adventure to your life, talk to strangers and maybe flirt a little (a lil ego boost in this period won’t hurt you but sill, don’t fall in vanity and don’t be desperate for external validation)

Cherishing yourself and loving yourself is your primary concern for this period and this is what attracts the partner you need now, not the one you want. 

Life is simple. Get into the moment.

The lyric “Call me beauty” from the song Girl’s Capitalism of tripleS LOVElution started playing in my head on repeat in the middle of your pile. This is the energy you should embody during this period. Don’t hesitate to check the music video as I think it might be relevant for some of you ! 

Below are the lyrics of the song in question. It is translated from Korean to English so maybe some translations can appear a bit off but I think the song holds the core message for your love life for the next few months or year.

“ (Woo) la-la-la, la-la-la-la, la, heart

La-la-la, la-la-la, la, heart

La-la-la, la-la-la-la, la-la, la, heart

I'm the key to my heart, love me better

All over the screen, you're shining brightly

The endless feed is soaking my heart

Now I know happiness, you see

You can't replace it

For me to shine brightly

More than a dazzling filter capitalism‘s my charm, oh, yeah (Oh, yeah)

Reality awoke from within

Gonna cherish my dreams for a higher self

Selfish (Ba-pa-dap)

Whatever they say, my feelings come first (Ba-pa-dap)

For that to work, gotta work on my account care (Ba-pa-dap)

I am my own standard, oh, I love myself

I am beautiful

Call me bеauty) Cute is now boring

(Call me beauty) All that's prеtty is mine

(Call me beauty) Gonna love myself in the mirror

I'm beautiful, love me better

(Inner beauty) Gonna cherish my inner heart

(Inner beauty) Aesthetically confident attitude

(Inner beauty) Gonna love myself the most

I'm beautiful, love me better

My various charms

Will write my story

Gonna love all of me

Yeah, you call me beauty (Woo)

Love that for you pile 1 ! 

thank you for reading until the end pile 1 ! lots of love <3

Pile 2

Queen of Cups, The Devil, The World

Your pile is represented by the Three of Pentacles. 

There is a heavy The Star card energy here. Friendship, love in a platonic/ philia love might be relevant to you at this time or just in general. I think you are asked to connect more with your friends, and cherish platonic love at the moment. 

What is next for you in love are deep friendships, where you share core values and exchange about politics, spirituality and your deepest fears. But also, a reconnection with your higher self.

I am picking up on the fact that people that chose this pile are most likely part of the LGBTQ+ community. Most of you are pansexual or bi, or you just don’t really put any label on your sexuality. You love freely, and gender or race is the least of your concerns. You love someone for their soul, their wit, their self-expression, generally who they are. You just love humans and humanity in general. You see love as this boundless emotion. Love is intrinsically spiritual to you. It is a spiritual fire, but not a destructive one.. No, to you love is both cerebral and magical. This pile is really airy. A lot of you could have air dominance in your chart, aquarius or gemini placements. Mercury and Uranus as your dominant planets. You are extremely open minded and, coming in this reading, I don’t think you expect much. It is like you do not really care about the “status” of your love life. You don’t feel this need to define yourself because to you, “to define is to limit”. 

I know it is deviating quite a bit from the topic of the reading but your energy fascinates me. It feels like a cool breeze on a summer morning at the end of August. Your energy is so “egoless”. You just let things flow and don’t take anything personally. Extremely spiritual, and elevated people chose pile because it is transforming into a philosophical, poetic and spiritual rant about what love is, how you perceive love,etc… 

Maybe what is next for you in love, apart from the friendships, is you trying to define what love is to you. Where is love ? How is love ? Why is love ? Who is love ? All these questions are the driving forces of the spiritual love quest you are embarking in for the next 1 to 3 months I am getting. This time period will help you emerge as a new person once summer comes. So, what I will mention in this reading will mostly concern the months from March to late June/ early July.

The light will guide you.

What is next in love for you is a deep reconnection to your higher self. You are looking for a relationship with yourself where your ego is not the driving force. You are looking to understand what your soul craves, without all the mind games. You are moving away from all the bs that our capitalistic society is feeding us. There is no such a thing as a “black cat gf” and “golden retriever bf” and “he is this mbti type and i am this type so we are not compatible”,,.. All of that categorizes people and limits their existence and erases their true complexity as individuals : you are moving away from it. You are realizing now more than ever that love is not transactional : there are simply no mathematical formulas for it. Love flows and goes, it knows no program or magic recipe.

I am picking up half of the people here already know that. You are just deepening and strengthening your “love belief system”.

I am getting one specific bible verse →  1 Corinthians 13:4-8 : 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 

5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 

6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

This verse, or this message might be relevant for some of you. What I am just getting overall is that you are going towards a selfless, boundless and spiritual love. 

Now, I want to warn some of you who will go too deep in the “ego death” route that they could end up getting taken advantage of by evil narcissists who will feed off their light. Conserve some ego still. Unfortunately, it is a harsh world out there and sensitive souls like you need to preserve their light for only a few rare people. Unconditional love is not for everyone, remember that. 

House Four - Cultural and family roots, , Virgo - Integrity, reverence and service and House Twelve - Spirituality, transcendence, karma, sacrificial service and healing. 

What’s next in love is a period of abstinence. And not of love, but of all the dates, and the mundane and modern activities associated with love. Some of you might also be in actual abstinence , like you do not indulge in any form of intimate or sexual activities by choice. Some of you might be religious, so it is just you deepening this relationship you have with God. If you’re muslim, this is probably because we are in the month of Ramadan ( by the way, Ramadan Mubarak to all the muslims that are reading this ! May Allah SWT forgive you and may this month reconnect you with your spirituality and strengthen your relationship with Allah<3 i know it is already the end of the month but hey bear with me lol)

This spring is a time where you purge anything unnecessary and where you preserve yourself from the outside world. I think your energy mesh extremely well with the current North Node being in Pisces as well as the current Venus Retrograde. It is a time of deep reflection and spiritual enlightenment for you. 

thank you for reading until the end pile 2 ! lots of love <3

Pile 3

Your pile is represented by the Temperance and the Six of Swords. 

I feel the need to share with you by what angel both of your representative cards are ruled by : Temperance : Chauakiah, The God of Joy - Reconciliation. Regains the favour of those one has offended / Six of Swords : Anauel, The Gentle God : Perception of unity. Protects against accidents. Heals the sick.

Compared to the other piles, I felt a heavier energy here. Not necessarily in a negative sense. It was just a bit gloomier, drier and serious. 

You are most likely in a process of healing and moving on. 

So… Pile 3.. How do I put this.. While Trying to shuffle for your tarot cards, so many fell off and the energy was overall super messy. I have a strong belief that you do not really know what you want in love. After your fair share of heartbreaks and love disappointments, you’re only now realizing that you were just chasing after an idea of love, a chimera. The people you have been romantically involved with so far were all reflections of your deepest insecurities and fears. You didn’t know yourself yet you tried to figure out those people, please them, love them deeply while you couldn’t even give that energy back to yourself. I know it sounds harsh, pile 3, but you need to identify your real likes and dislikes and what you are truly looking for in a partnership. People aren’t archetypes, they aren’t limited to an MBTI type or a Venus sign. Your relationship with them isn’t limited to a specific synastry aspect or overlay. You tried to find your answers to these failed romances everywhere but within yourself. And I know damn well it sounds super corny, but it is true. Get to know the real you, not the one that got lost in what your parents expected of you, what a random astro post said your sun and moon signs are like in love, not all of that stupid stuff. 

Now, I am getting that some of you, actually a pretty large group of people here, already got past that “delusional phase” in your love life. So, for the moment, you’re more bitter, and the rant I just did is just something you wish you could’ve told the younger you/ the past you. Right now, you are trying to forgive yourself and this is amazing. I believe when I post this, Venus will be Retrograde. Use this time to reflect on your love life. I think you might attract someone, or more so someone back. Don’t jump at me yet, this person isn’t a dusty ok lol.  I think you guys were subconsciously manifesting each other this past year or 2 years I am getting. The Venus retrograde will get you guys closer but not in the 3D. It will still be in the 5D or subconsciously. Even though I didn’t put any tarot cards for you, the first two cards that fell were the 7 of Cups and the Page of cups. Then the Knight of Cups came up with the Queen of Cups and now I am seeing the 2 of Cups and the King of Cups poking out of my deck. So much cups energy. You guys have the potential to reconnect and have a really loving and deeply healing connection. Now I am getting that some of you actually don’t really know this person well or haven’t actually met them in real life. Whatever the case may be, this is a really beautiful connection that awaits you. I will be fully honest though, it might take a while to manifest 💀And when I say a while, I mean a WHILE. Like in a span of years. I know some of you guys probably sighed or rolled their eyes at their screen but either this is divine timing, either a lot of you who chose this pile are in really different stages in their journey, and some need a longer time than the others to reach this relationship. 

Honestly, pile 3, your spread is giving “ it’s all up to you”.You might have a lot of suitors, and some are genuinely good for you. Do whatever you want (frustrating answer, I know)

Be brave enough to be bad at something new.

House Two - Physical security, possessions, material values and self worth , Mars - Move forward and defend self, Saturn - Feel restricted, experience struggle, learn hard work and patience

What to get from these three oracles cards is that you have the control in your love life,  you just need to believe in yourself and your ability to attract the love you desire. It is a lot about self worth and believing that you deserve this unconditional love that you desire so much. A lot of hopeless romantics chose this pile, and you might be starting to feel your inner romantic lover boy/ lover girl dying because of these terrible traumatic experiences. This reading is here to remind you that the best thing you can do for yourself is to resist. Push through the pain, accept the pain and move on from the pain. Live it fully and let it flow, then let it go. Your pain is legitimate but don’t let it rotten your heart so much. This world needs more people like you pile 3, and no matter how hard your love life is/ was, believe in a brighter future. Learn through the experiences. It’s okay. 

sorry for your reading, pile 3, it was a bit messy and all over the place. I think that for now your energy is really neurotic and your mind might be going at 100mph and it was felt in this reading (or Am I making excuses for doing this reading while being tired lol maybe it's both honestly). Hope you could at least get some messages that put some light on your current situation. Good luck, pile 3, never lose your heart, it is one of the most precious things you have. <3

thank you for reading until the end pile 3 ! lots of love <3

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆stay blessed everyone⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

[merakiui]

Based on the newest art:

Siren Azul whose a famous idol, you show up at one of his concerts after you were lucky enough to win front row seats in a sweepstakes ypu didn't know you entered! You would even get the opportunity to meet Azul himself! Everything is amazing! he even let's the front row sing into his mic. After the concert two identical staff members take you to his dressing room the moment they turn the knob everything goes black. You blink in and out of wakefulness getting glimpses of someone taking you by the hand and leading you out of the building and into a car all the while you hear the most beautiful song you've ever heard in your life. You wake in a luxurious bed none other than Azul already balls deep.

Alternate ending where he does pretty much the same thing but leads you out to the docks and pushes you in and goes in after to do it octopus style.

AAAAA YES OTL siren Azul who captivates his fans and audience with his beautiful singing voice and suave charms. Such hypnotic voice, sweet like honey, melodious like birdsong. >w< you’ve been obsessed with him since the moment you listened to his music, saw his presence on stage, watched him in interviews. You really admire him and have always dreamed of attending one of his concerts!!! Being able to see your idol on the stage….. you’d love nothing more!

So you’re absolutely overjoyed when you win that lottery and you’re awarded the exact chance to see him—to meet him. Aaaa imagine the surprise when you wake to him fucking into you,,, for a moment you think this is a very vivid dream, only to then realize it’s actually happening when you feel his dick prodding at your deepest spots and you hear him mumbling in your ear in between gasps and grunts about how you’re so perfect and he just loves you so very much. But that can’t be, right? He’s never met you!! You won’t need to think about any of that, though. You’re home now. He’ll show you nothing but affection. He’ll sing you the sweetest of songs every night. And one day in the future… even your child(ren) will know the loveliest lullabies sung by him.

And maybe when you’re relaxing in the exquisite indoor pool in his penthouse,,, you’ll realize there’s some truth to all the headlines naming him a siren. :) can’t protest or squirm much when his voice and its hypnotic qualities are melting your brain into mush and all you can do is willingly roll your hips in time with the tentacles fucking into you and groping you. <3

[jacktheeldergod2]

Fuck it I'm answering all of them

1. It's bad

2. A random bird I saw outside. Common city pidgeon

3. Yeah. Not telling

4. Yeah. I'm also the most confident person ever. It's weird

5. Polycule. But all of them are a fucking ocean away

6. Either bleed out somewhere in peace with the whole thing or with my belly full of alcohol and a pretty face on my crotch

7. Green apple

8. Not professionaly yet but I do muay thai

9. I don't bite my nails. I anxiously rip off the ever regenerating skin of my lips

10. Like a few months ago. It was very short cause the pe teacher broke us up immediately

11. Yes. My lovers

12. No but it sounds fun in a way

13. Bigots,my mother etc

14. @mmmmmmky . Kay doesn't talk on the internet much so I miss Kay almost constantly

15. Mind your business

16. Hateful

17. I never made out at all my lovers live seas away

18. Fuck no. Spiders? The cool looking weavers? No I fucking don't

19. Why? To wait like I'm waiting right now all over again? To suffer more?

20. Nowhere. I haven't done that

21. Jacking off to @puppygirllaika 's content and playing hades

22. I hate kids. Humans should fully grow up in a single year like most animals. We'd have so much more time of youthful vigor that way

23. Not yet. I want snake bites and a bunch in my ears

24. I'm not good at school and none of them ever really felt good

25. Some friends from here that deleted their blogs and cut contact

26. Sex

27. No. Well I refused to be my first girlfriend's lover at the start out of fear that I'd fuck it up so maybe that counts

28. My relationships are open. If my lovers are being happy that's good for me whether I am involved or not. I'm a grown man not a 12 year old girl like I once was

29. I don't think so. I've pissed em off a few times though

30. Everything

31. My lovers and my friends

32. Purple,indigo,pink,that general range of color

33. Yes. Severely

34. random shit happened. Among them @sapient-marshmallow-princess had a computer. It was new and all that

35. Mother. Years ago

36. Never

37. Forget. Even if I forget what was done I'll forgive none of it

38. No

39. I haven't had one

40. No although I'd like to. Feels good to be naked y'know

41 through 50 are missing

51. Παστίτσιο

52. Nothing ever happened for a reason except the actions of living beings. The universe itself is just space and the matter within it

53. Masturbation

54. Yeah

55. Very much so

56. Not many,not too little. Never got really bad unfortunately. I wanna bring a human halfway to hell with my hands

57. I am incapable of perfectly differenting sexual attraction and romantic love. Perhaps I love my lovers platonically but have some special connection with them. I don't believe in some "the one" or "fated love" bullcrap. I never was so juvenile

58. Storms

59. Yes but it never snows here unfortunately

60. Doesn't matter to me. @moonsfavoritedaughter wants to so we'll buy some rings and tell the oaths to each other in the woods. This is more to make her happy,I needn't a ring to prove the love I feel

61. No

62. @moonsfavoritedaughter @mmmmmmky @sapient-marshmallow-princess

63. Already did. My name is Jack Spawn. Or the feminine version,Jackie Spawn. Maybe I'll change it more. Jojo sounds kinda good but I'm not sure

64. I haven't kissed

65. Fuck probably

66. If I can't act my complete self around someone they are not my friend. So yes

67. Your mom

68. Bella

69. Do I look like a 5-7 year old to you?

70. All my friends and lovers

@coiled-dragon you tagged me in a "people I wanna get to know better post last month so you can read this if you want

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[scribz-ag24]

I've recently seen again a post talking about the Sableye and Dusknoir's relationship so i'd like to put my two cents in the discussion, for I love screaming into the void about PMD. (this isnt meant to discourage any other interpretations btw this is just my take on theirs and Dusknoir's relationship, bc I think they're very fun characters and I am very glad the game actually gives these minions a bit of relevance in se5).

Tbh I don't buy that Dusknoir treats the Sableye nicely, at least not out of kindness. I don't think he's a tyrant or inexplicably mean, of course, and I think his minions ADORE him, but i also believe that doesn't mean he's nice to them, sth that i consider meaningful for their character arcs.

Throughout the entire game he's exclusively giving them orders, in se5 he concocts a plan that involves thrashing them MULTIPLE times (he's lucky Grovyle isn't one to try and kill enemies in battle ig), and the cherry on top is that the first time we see him being fully genuine he does this:

(yes, he is in turmoil in here, but there's not a single thing implying that 1. this is an unusual response towards the sablye, 2. dusknoir feels bad for it at some point or is surprised at himself, 3. this has any impact in the sableye at all. You can argue these reactions happen off screen and we don't see them, they don't happen bc they have pressing matters to attend to or they happen after they return to life, and that's perfectly valid, but i'm sticking with what the game shows us, here.)

I must say, though, the fact that the Sableye, despite having been almost mindless pokémon up to now, STAND UP TO AND ATTACK Primal Dialga for their boss and even try to look after him despite him ordering them to check on Grovyle and Celebi first is SO important to me. they are goons to the bone and they love that scheming ghost so much.

My own view is that Dusknoir is generally polite to them (you wouldn't randomly break your own revolver or weapon without any reason, would you?), but is quicker to get mean with them than with people he doesn't know or he is seeking to manipulate. He doesn't care about their behaviour as long as they get the job done, which is why I think the anime thing of the Sableye climbing onto his shoulder isn't that remarkable, rather it's a very cute moment, one that is showing how they've been working together for long and how their size difference affects their interactions, but it is not necessarily conveying an affectionate bond (this is a bit random, but it reminds me of Disney's Jafar with Iago lmao. throw your pet sableye at your enemies so they mock them and then return to your shoulder). Additionally, Dusknoir letting the Sableye onto his shoulder is probably as close as we are gonna get to a villain turning around in his chair while petting a cat in PMD lol.

[this isn't meant to be a one-to-one comparison, it's just a detail i find cute and shows that this gesture can have multiple interpretations, with none being the only right one]

Leaving that aside, I hesitate to claim Dusknoir trusts his Sableye as allies, as Grovyle makes a point in the main story of how the Sableye (your Sableye, he says, as if objectifying them; not friends, but tools, weapons at Dusknoir's disposal) are lacking compared to the way hero/partner/grovyle support one another (power of friendship and hidden information babyyyy). The Sableye are used to Dusknoir's way of doing things, though, I'm sure. They know what happens when he's displeased, after all.

I think, most of all, the Sableye are meant to look disposable: they are 6 identical pokémon that almost act like a hivemind, and we are not supposed to think at all about how we may hurt them in battle any more than we do with the angry Manectric pack or random dungeon pokémon. This, I believe, is why the game has them stand up against Dialga and gives them unique dialogue at the end of se5. They're meant to show their inner shine, just as Dusknoir managed to do. They suddenly gain an individuality they had never shown while they were working to maintain the dark future.

Where they abandoned Dusknoir in the Old Ruins, now Grovyle has motivated them to look for their dignity and fight for a better world, and that starts with protecting their leader from Primal Dialga's rampage, and supporting his new objective and allies in their quest to save the future. In their own small way, they've also grown as characters throughout SE5.

I believe that, overall, Dusknoir saw the Sableye as tools, but thanks to their growth and clear care for him, there's a possibility he might start to see them (and by extension other pokémon) in a more genuine, less pragmatic / objectifying way in the future. Now that Dusknoir has the chance to live a fulfilling life, he may learn to care for others without surrounding himself by so many walls. If anything, I think their future is quite bright. Not that the Sableye would mind if he still thrashed them around, though lol, they're clearly not bothered much by it (special episode 0 had a great depiction of the sableye imo, you can check that romhack if you haven't yet).

In conclusion, look at these little guys who adore their can-get-mean-but-is-mostly-polite boss and probably have a body count but now are good, they're so cute:

[bettystonewell]

Sam Winchester x Reader - PERFECT

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

A chance encounter, followed by another in the most unlikely of places, leads to a one-night stand for Sam, and maybe something more?

18+ only MDNI 7.5k words (SAM POV)

Tags: smut, oral - male and female recieving, language, Sam’s POV, pining, dirty talk, an unconventional meet-cute

A/N: Guys! It’s my very first Sam centric fic, and it turned smutty! This is all thanks to a prompt exchange with the lovely @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth. You can find her Donna x reader fic HERE. I was given the prompt: Third Wheeling, and the phrase, “You do not want to go in there, believe me,” which is in bold. - Beth ❤️

“Being on the road can be so lonely sometimes, you know?” Dean says, taking Kristy’s hand and gliding his thumb over her smooth skin. She’s hot and way out of his league, and Sam just knows he’s already forgotten her name.

He rolls his eyes. Again. Another town, another bar. Another conquest that will keep him out of a nice warm bed.

He gets it, he does, but he was looking forward to stretching his legs out tonight. They’re stiff and his back still aches from the salt and burn they did the night before and the driving they’ve been doing all day.

Milroy to Muncie. Dean isn’t travelling the world like he just told her. What would a seasoned pilot even be doing in a place like this?

There’s a tidal pool of liquor right in front of him, lapping at the elbows of his jacket with every fresh drink poured. But hey, there are peanuts. The shells are swimming in the swill, and that suits him fine. The smell of smoke and tobacco, cheap cologne mixed with sweat and… urinal cakes… it’s nothing to bitch about. They could use a load off.

It’s just having to hear Dean swindle his way into her panties. Only took two beers and a double bacon cheeseburger.

Sam takes another swig of his beer. Lets the bitterness cool his throat and his hands. It settles in his stomach that’s twisted itself into knots. Kristy was perfect until she started talking to Dean.

He’s got a shoulder blocking his peripheral now, but raising his chin and leaning further into the wave of booze on the counter gives Sam the right angle. He sees the rise of her chest as it dips into her tank top. Makes his lip curl over the lip of his bottle and his cheeks flush. A little.

“Omae wa mou shindeiru,” Dean says with a husk to his voice.

Kristy giggles. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Japanese for you’re so beautiful. I learnt that on my last visit.”

It’s not. Sam might not speak the language, but he knows enough to know that line is from Fist of the North Star and Dean butchered it. Pretty sure he told her she was going to die, actually, but whatever. He shakes his head. None of his business if she falls for it - she does - and he can either stay here and further torment himself, or do something about it.

He chugs down the rest of his beer and drops it in the potent ocean. His elbows just miss the riptide. “Bathroom.” He shoots the word Dean’s way, but he gets no response.

“Yeah, I climbed Fuji last time I was there. It’s beautiful in the winter. The snow up there makes the whole mountain look like you’re walking in the clouds.”

Right. Though Sam would love to see him try. He might not have his brother in full afterwards, but he could live on if Dean became subjected to Darwinism.

He stands and searches the place for the John. Of course it’s in the back.

His eyes sweep over Kristy as he passes her, keeping them well away from Dean’s. His hand is covering the dip of her lower spine now, and that’s enough.

Between the pool tables and over more spilled booze that catches the soles of his sneakers as he crosses the room; he makes it to the little darkened crook behind the jukebox where some guy is marking a trail over the neck of a woman twice his age. He has to tap him on the shoulder or squeeze past and bump uglies with them, but no problem, sweet urinal cakes are within his grasp.

He reaches for the handle, tugs, and is about to step inside when a face plants into his chest.

“Sorry,” you say, and look up. Your eyes would be apologetic if it weren’t for the grin that’s stretching your cheeks. “You do not wanna go in there, believe me.”

He doesn’t want to — “What?”

He checks the plaque on the door to make sure that he is indeed trying to enter the men’s room, and he is. “Ahhh,” he chuckles. His voice is higher, and he’s blinking like there’s no tomorrow. “Why?”

“Oh. No.” Your hand is at your mouth and it’s grown even wider.

Your giggling is much more pleasant than Kristy’s, but he doesn’t see what’s so funny. A band of warmth spreads across his nose, but his stomach is doing flips now and not the good kind.

This place is gross enough. What could someone like you possibly do in there? You’re so…little. Well, anyone compared to him is, but you seem sober and put together.

Your makeup has no smudges. No smell of puke or anything else. Your hair is neat, and while those jeans are rather snug, you’ve got some nice tits. They’re not falling out and you’re not stumbling all over the place. You are looking more sheepish by the second, though.

“No, no. I, ah.” You shake your head. Your legs are crossing together. “Uh-uh. Someone’s dropped a load off in there and the ladies aren’t much better. Can I—” Your hands clasp and fingers intertwine; your arms are now slithering like two snakes between his side and the doorframe. “I really gotta go. Excuse me!”

And with that, you take off through the gap made by the couple and the booze puddles on the floor. You’re scooting between the pool tables, then past Dean and Kristy, honing in on a door at the end of the bar he never noticed before. A gust of air pulls it shut behind you.

Okay. Weird.

Sam shakes his head. He’s about to walk on through to the sink he spots on the wall when his nose picks up on whatever it was you were talking about and, yeah, he doesn’t want to know. Whomever did that needs their insides checked, if they haven’t died already?

He turns on his heels and considers his options. He’s seen and smelled worse, but he’s not desperate yet. The beer is still sitting atop the knots that had unraveled, and though the stench has tightened them back into place, they won’t hold forever.

Maybe if he walks home to the motel they checked into earlier, he can make it before things get dire? He should beat Dean before he drops a sock on the door that way.

So, with a glance towards his older brother, whose fingers have slipped under Kristy’s waistband, his decision made, and Sam beelines for the main entrance, stepping out into the night air.

The chill cuts the back of his hands and he shoves them straight into his pockets, bringing his elbows in tight on account of the wind. It dares to tackle him over, but he leans forward and braces himself down the path and past the alley that tucks into the side of the bar.

For the second time that night, you barrel into him. The coincidence, the irony, the annoyance tightens his stance until he realises it’s you and his brow quirks. “You gotta watch where you’re going.”

Your face planted into his arm, above the junction his elbow makes. It fits nicely. A strand of your hair catches on the stitching of his jacket. Probably got some beer on your chin. Serves you right.

“Excuse me,” you snap, but that grin still spreads over when you look up and your eyes recognise you’ve bumped into him. “Oh.” Your eyelashes bat against your cheek. “Well, you gotta stop getting in my way.”

And as you had done only a minute ago, you turn to take off again. Only Sam is quicker. More alert. His hand grabs your wrist before you get too far and holds on tight. “Where are you going?” he says, considering how your hips and legs squirm. The motel is only two blocks and he’ll be the gentleman if he has to be. He isn’t Dean.

“Look dude, I gotta pee, and that alley ain’t going to cut it, so unless you want me to—”

“Yeah.” He scoffs. “I’m staying down the road, so before you threaten to piss yourself, you’re welcome to use the one in my room.”

You bite your lip and shrug as you stare him up and down. He’s not a serial killer, but he can understand the skepticism after all he’s seen.

You nod your head. “I was gonna aim for your shoes,” you say. “But okay.”

And there’s Sam, blinking once more. His eyes are getting quite the workout tonight. His scoff teed with a snicker this time. The dimples in his cheeks are pulling his chin to new heights and his other hand is leaving its pocket, outstretching in front of him to lead the way.

“Okay then,” he says, and now you’re both walking.

The room isn’t much. The usual twin beds, table and chairs, a couch Sam refuses to sit on. You’ve only been here a second and you’ll only be here a minute or two more, but it’s imperative he cleans up any evidence of their less-than-normal lives while you’re occupied. 

The second the door clicks and the light filters through the threads of carpet caught on the frayed timber, he’s zipping up duffles and tucking the nose of Dean’s shotgun out of sight. 

There’s a salt round by the fridge, an empty bottle of Jim next to it, and Dean’s underwear draped over the chair. He picks that up with the machete, thanks his lucky stars you didn’t see that or the rest of it, then sits on the end of his bed. 

No, he stands. 

No, he sits and leans on his legs. His thumbs twiddle, his eyes scan the doors. And now he’s standing up again as the handle jostles and you appear with a smile that’s oozing relief. He relaxes just a little.

“All good?” he asks. What the hell was he thinking? Not like you battled a vamp in there. But then you’re tilting your head and your palms are smoothing your sides as you consider his question, and ‘Please don’t think I’m a creep,’ he prays. 

“Yeah. Thanks,” you say. You’re less animated now. You’re chill, calm, collected. Even more put together than before, but just as Sam feared you might, you take in your surroundings, checking out the details of the room.

He’s luckier still. 

“Can I, ah, take you back to the bar?” 

It’s not suss, right? He’s just being friendly, not kicking you out or hiding something, but it’s not the way you take it.

“You want me gone?” Your chin recedes into your neck. 

Shit. “No, I—”

“Relax.” You chuckle and step over to pat him on the shoulder. The same side you ran into on the street. “I’m just messing with you. Thanks for helping a stranger in need,” you add as you move to the door. “I’ll see you around, unless walking me back to the bar includes buying me a drink?”

“There’s beer in the fridge.” Sam didn’t even think. Well. He did, just not with his head. 

It’s Dean’s stash in case he doesn’t pickup, but you’re here, and he’s there. Even if nothing comes from this, he doesn’t need to know it’s all a fallacy. Sam’ll take it as a win, and he waits for your response.

He’s down to beg. He throws that look that always works and your lips spread into a smile. 

“Alright.” You nod. Don’t even question why there’s beer when you just met at a bar, and the next thing he knows, you’re pulling up a chair, and so is he. His back, leaning against Dean’s former underwear drawer, clinking his and your cold one together. 

“So, passing through, huh?” you ask between swigs. 

There’s a spark of interest in your eyes, but all he can do is say, “Yeah.” He’d much rather talk about you. Your life is normal. You seem normal. If accepting to use a stranger’s motel bathroom and then staying for a drink makes you so. 

You did threaten to pee on him.

“Staying long?”

“Depends on my brother.”

You’d taken another mouthful and the lip of the bottle catches on yours as you say, “Your brother?” 

There’s a drop of beer dripping down your chin, and he’s drawn to it. Tongue darts out before hiding it behind his own drink. “Yeah,” he repeats and you’re nodding more. Only it’s slow. It’s understanding. 

Your gaze travels the room again as you think what to say, passing the two beds and the duffles he threw on the floor. “So, road trip? Heading to or from college?”

“College?” He chuckles.

“Yeah. You seem young enough. You got that head in a book kind of look.” Your fingers trace the bottleneck and swipe at the condensation. “I dunno? I’m making shit up while I try to work out who you are besides Sam, the guy who saved me from peeing my pants. You’re not exactly giving me much.”

And you’re not giving him a chance. “What about you? What’re you twenty-four?”

“Three. You?”

He nods. He’s twenty-five, but you don’t need to know that. It’s been over two years since he got dragged back into hunting. Since he lost Jess. Maddison, too, not that it’s the same. 

“So what’s your story?” he says.

“Besides trying to use the men’s room and the alley?”

It’s not just a chuckle this time, he’s wholeheartedly laughing. It bellows round the room, ricocheting off the walls and doors. That smile of yours is wicked, and the straight-laced tone that delivered it was just right. His stomach has unwound, and his head is feeling light thanks to your shoe brushing his leg below the table.

Maybe there’s no need for lies. Sometimes all it takes is a gentleman’s kindness. A tall stature and an air of mystery. 

“Besides that,” he says, and you’re considering him again. Your stare has him staring back.

You’re pretty. More than you are put together. Your hair sits just right, your hands delicate. They’d look good in his, and even better wrapped around any part of him. 

Which means he’s got to up his game. You’re already here and the way you look at him clues him in that you might be interested. He just has to reel you in. So, “You gotta boyfriend, or living with your folks?” he adds. He shouldn’t have started with your relationship status, but your smile’s just growing bigger and bigger.

“Boyfriend, huh? At least I asked what you did first.”

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Do you wanna know if there is one?” you tease, then you’re laughing along with him.

There’s no guy. Your shoe is off and your socked foot is now stretched across the table; resting close to his crotch. 

You’re not shy. You’re not dumb, either. “Why do you think I stayed?” 

You lean forward. Your toes shift, too, creeping closer and closer to not so little Sam, who twitches with interest. “Cute stranger, staying at the local motel. We don’t get a lot of those ‘round here, and I’m counting on you leaving tomorrow. If you’re interested.”

It’s like he’s channeling his inner-Dean or something. You may as well be in his lap. Sure, your foot is, but women his age never fawn over him, at least he never notices until it’s too late. It took days for Jess flirting after Brady introduced her for him to make his move. 

He was in Maddison’s living room and that took Dean’s interference. The weird, and albeit extremely obvious kind, but here with you, what you’re suggesting is plain as day. 

“I, ah.” You’re looking at him still. Your big toe is scraping right up against the seam of his pants now. If it weren’t for the fabric covering the family jewels, your nail would be right up in theirs.

Shit. 

His knee hits the table. His beer travels down the wrong pipe. He chokes when the cool liquid slides further and the bubbles lick the walls. Meanwhile, your foot just gets in there more. Big toe, seeking the form of his growing boner.

Your smile is infectious. You think making a grown man squirm is hilarious, apparently. He’d let you do it again and again. “You wanna?” he says between splutters. 

Idiot. Does he really have to ask?

It’s hard to breathe when your lungs are constricting, let alone think. But you’re there, and he’s there, and he’s so fucking down, it’s no longer funny. 

He stands. Crunches his chair across the crunchier carpet as your chin shoots up. Eyes following to what would be the perfect angle if you were closer and below his feet. 

“I do,” you say, and your lips are plump, glistening. They’re wide and they pillow under your front teeth, daring him to capture them. 

He does.

His arm sneaks around your waist, and he pulls you to stand. His hand plants firm on your side. Fingers scrunch up your shirt, but no matter, yours are riding up under his, and fuck, no, no, he doesn’t fucking care.

His gut is doing flips. Those knots are loose, but his chest is tight. Blood rushes to both heads and both heads ground against different parts of you. 

“Sam.” Your kiss stops mid nip. Your hands have since moved to his buckle, but your eyes are on him when he looks past his nose and mouth. He’d kiss you more. Only his attention has turned to what your fingers are doing with his belt and how your arms glide it out in one flick, then go straight back to the fly. “You packing?”

Packing? He stands there, stunned. His pants clearly are. Your fingers just brushed the tip.

“Condom,” you say, and the colour in your irises flicker. 

“Ah—Yeah. Yes. Mm—You—You don’t waste time, huh?” 

“Haven’t had enough, not too.” You double over in a manner he’d say otherwise. “And you mentioned something ‘bout a brother?”

“Dean?” His cheeks are rising again. But they’re doing so because his eyes are squinting with disgust. You’re still grinning up at him though, and your palm is teasing his dick through its confines. 

You grip and press into him, moulding out the shape under his jeans and he shakes that thought away. 

You want him. Your lashes are fluttering and your lips are twitching into a sultry smirk because he’s under your ministration and you’re ready to go with him, just as much as he is with you.

“Hold that thought,” he says, and he takes a step back, hand still on your waist to toe a shoe off. 

He’s not that coordinated with the sock, however, and he soon bends over to retrieve the house-elf’s bounty. He flashes it in triumph in front of your quirked brow, but you’re soon grinning with him. 

There’s a fit of laughter that hits his ears again and footsteps stalking him as he glides to the door and covers the outside handle, just as Dean would do. 

He shuts it, turns around and your hands grab and pull him back to you. Your right is back at the button and your left is sliding on in, tickling skin teasing through the copse of tiny curls before any kiss picks back up.

You swallow his moan. Taste the trepidation on his tongue as your skin touches his velvety head. 

Nope. Not shy. You know what you want, and Sam is more than happy to let you take it if you keep touching him like that, but he’s not dumb. He also knows what he wants, and it’s only fair he gets his turn, too. You’re here. He’s here. He wants to last. No, needs to. Being on the road with Dean so often means he gets little time to, well, take his time. 

He’s pent up. Motel showers aren’t the best when he has to keep quiet and slow his hands so the faps don’t reach his brother’s waiting jaunts. He could blow his load right now with not much more effort from you, but he’s not going to. Not until after he savours you first. 

It’s been way too long since he felt sweet curves or tasted the sweat of another’s skin. The bitter beer mixed with a fruity gloss is doing wonders already, but he craves more.

Just like the footpath, his hand grabs your wrist and its twin, and he leads you backward until your knees hit Dean’s bed and you flail. Your arms pull from him and push down into the bedding, then you drag yourself up to the pillows where you rest your head against the wooden board. 

Your finger tells him to come hither, your hand pats the space at your side. Sam takes off his shirt.

His gut is doing flips again. More so when your eyes trail up over every inch of his chiseled chest. Behind it, his heartbeat is fast. It could jump right out of there. Only the lump in his throat is huge. 

You’ve slipped off your shirt, too. Your fingers unclasp the hooks of your bra. You slide the straps down and hold it in the air before you fling it at his feet and giggle again. 

“What’re you waiting for?” you say and it goes straight to his pants. The outline of his dick throbs against the denim. 

He swallows. “Just, ah, admiring the show.” 

You grin. A little sigh escapes your lips as you look down at yourself. Your fingers swirl over your heaving skin. They dip into the valley between your breasts, but never move further than the tan line that divides the top half from the fuller one. “It’s more fun if you’re touching me, too.”

Ho-kay. This is really happening. And Sam’s now diving for Dean’s duffle. He’s careful not to reveal the contents, but it’s hard not to when he’s just as and everything’s dumped on top. The little box of Trojans is right under the weight of the sawn-off and the sharp blade of a machete almost cuts him.

Man, it’s lucky you’re occupied. 

Sam turns around, and that’s an understatement. You’re inching down your jeans. They’re flung off, and he’s doing the same. Hopping, skipping, and jumping, he yanks the string of plastic foils out and trails them along behind him. 

They splay out over the covers while you splay under him; and he’s dipping down to taste. There’s salt and a light scent of citrus teed with something sweeter flooding his nostrils as your fingers curl into his hair. His occupied with the way your left tit fits below them. He squeezes and draws his mouth over the other. Pops your nipple in and sucks.

“Took you long enough,” you coo, and he just chuckles, haughty, deep.

“And I’m gonna take longer,” he says between nips and swipes of a thick, flat tongue. One that glides perfectly ‘round the round, hardening bud. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

He presses firm, draws your taut skin into his teeth. He’s determined to leave marks because something’s snapped within. Where the hell that last line came from, he’s got no idea, but it’s as if he’s an animal turned feral.

A wolf in its den? A lion devouring its prey? Does it matter when his hips are gyrating against your lace? 

Your panties are staining his boxers, and his boxers strain against them, staining them right back.

“Fuck,” you moan. 

He groans, and then your hands are pressing against his head.

He can take a hint. He’s smart. He won’t tell you your upper thighs were his mouth’s goal all along. Too busy concentrating as he scoots down, ‘cause he can’t fuck this up. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he says on the outside. God. Who the hell is he? “Want me to taste you?”

“Sam,” you moan again. “Gonna get me off with that tongue of yours, baby?”

And damn. His name is so much better when you say it, when your legs are spreading further open for him. His fingers are slipping under the edge of the lace, feeling the first slither of just how wet you really are.

His lips press against your clothed entrance and the damp fabric gives way. He’s certain his nose has just tapped into your clit and you smell divine. Sour, earthy. On the verge of something sweet. 

He darts his tongue back out to taste, and your fingers are tugging this time. Your nails scrape his scalp and your back arches off the bed, pushing your hot, hot heat against him.

“You gonna tease me all day, Samuel?” you say, and he’s not mad. That scolding tone is working wonders. His amusement bursts through his nose.

Down below though, a bead of pre-cum dribbles from little Sam, flexing with a life of its own. He can’t deny his balls are tight, stomach hotter than you are. It’s still flipping, and his toes stretch and recoil in extension. 

“No, ma’m.” The sooner he can get you to cum, the sooner he’ll be comfortable sinking into you. What he lacks in confidence he makes up for in size, and it’s something he’s proud of. 

He unfurls your panties. Glides them down with your eager help. Without warning, his lips return to their former position, parting yours around him. He presses hard, spreads his mouth open wide and licks while his fingers dip where he’s too afraid to reach. 

You’re still a stranger he knows nothing about besides no boyfriend and you’re willing to have this one-night stand with him. But he’s smart, remember? He doesn’t want to catch anything. Even if you’re well put together and squirming into his palm, he just met you, urinal adjacent. 

“Oh, shit.” Your back arches again. Your pants reach his ear. His fingers curl and stroke your constricting walls, wet catching in his nail-beds. Your body trembles, bringing a new meaning to thundering thighs. 

They quiver, they shake. He gets a calve to his chin as you raise it up and stretch it out. There’s a risk his head will get a good clamping, but he continues to strike with the pebbled tip of his tongue. 

His lips pull together and he pulls away with a smack, putting on a show for you with a swipe over the bow. His eyes find yours, lust blown, heavy lidded. Your mouth parts and begs a, “Please.”

And Sam’s diving right back in with a smirk. Kisses with force against your clit. Thrums his fingers inside, hard and fast. His wrist is getting a workout. His thumb aches as it’s pushed to the side. But he slips in a third finger, flicks the shelf of your pubic bone. Holds your stomach down as you buck and shake.

“Oh, god,” you cry. His name comes out in a hoarse scream. You yank at his hair as you gush over his hand and chin. Your legs do everything in their power to crush him, but he doesn’t let up.

His fingers continue to make you writhe and your arms wriggle and bend. Only now, his kisses move and spread your juices over you. 

The crease in your thighs and the soft flesh covering your hips. Over your stomach, delving into your navel, he trails up your body, back to your breasts, and soon you’re wet inside and out, and he grins big and toothy. Cheeks up high again as he waits for you to come down from yours.

He drops to his side. Props himself on his elbow. Hand runs through his hair, already laced with sweat. “That good, huh?” he asks. 

And if he’s honest, he needs to know. He’s still working you, only now his fingers tap at your opening. Slipping through your folds with a sound so slick, Dean would say it’s music. A newfound confidence comes from the belief you’re outta breath because of him.

Your laugh fills with air, like how a cartoon dog might snicker, chest rising against his own. Your nipple scrapes over his skin as he leans down and kisses you proper. Answer, stolen, before it can even form.

Salt and fruity gloss - cherry? No, strawberry. Why the hell does he care? The flavours swirl together. Bodies press together when you hitch your leg over his and pull him closer. Your sweet heat now flush against him, hammers his heart and forces his grip on you to tighten.

He squeezes your ass. It’s plump. It’s firm. Your jeans hid just how perfect and round it was. Just the right size for him to hold.

But you’ve got your sights set on your own grip, hand diving into his boxers to take him and give him a slow pump. Pulling back, your eyes open wide in surprise; you twist your wrist and palm his weeping head. 

“You’re the one packing, huh, big boy?” You then bite your lip. Lick it. Drag your thumb over his slit and pull a grunt from deep within the pit of his stomach. 

Somewhere below the knotting, there’s a fire burning, raging, and it needs to be sheathed, covered, surrounded. It’s gross, and it’s oh so Dean, but he needs it put out and a wet pussy will do.

Sam thrusts into your touch. He can’t help it. Fuck, he wants to move.

“You think you can handle me, baby?” he rasps into your parted mouth, stretching his arm over and behind, fumbling for the string of foils and tears one off.

“I’m gonna fucking try,” you say, and the wordplay, whether on purpose, is not lost.

He rolls to his back, and you’re already pouncing, pulling his underwear further down and off. You straddle his legs, take the little packet in your hand, and stroke him some more, up close, eye to eye. 

You kiss the tip, watching as it flexes. His fingers do the same ‘round the ends of your hair. They curl then grip. Yours is firm around his base. And the sight?

The sight. 

He’s died and gone to heaven. Too long since he’s seen a woman between his legs, those eyes still half lidded, still full of lust. You’re greedy. You’re needy. The way you hold your gaze as he feels the heat of your mouth nip at his skin, breath warm and wet, floods through him. 

The way you sink further down.

Sam rolls his head back, his crown pushes into the pillow bunched up below. He wants to look, wants to pull at the strands of hair that still lace through his fingers and yank you down so you take all of him in. 

Your tongue glides down the underside, flattened and rough, encasing, but with a light graze from two front teeth up top. The suction is so tight. The stretch around him burns his own skin. The way you drag back, then spit, swirl the saliva, and do it again, coating him all sloppy that it’s gleaming, all slippery and dripping like you were. Like you will be again. His gut curls in on itself now. 

He’s tingling. He’s buzzing. He’d be high as a kite, if it weren’t for your thighs keeping him down. Their weight, your weight, making him go numb with need. 

You pump your fist down low, swiping your smallest finger over the velvety skin covering his balls. A drop of him or you pools there, then drips further down. “Fuck.” He then calls your name.

“You ready for me, big boy?” you ask again, and he’s snickering at the way you say it. 

“Yeah.” His arm releases you and flops over his forehead, but the sound of that little wrapper in your grasp rectifies that. He’s peeping out from under himself as you roll the rubber down.

He’s so sensitive, it stings like the bite of some bug. Balls more so as you drag yourself up and over him. Cockhead catches where you split down the middle, rubbing across your puckered hole. 

You bite your lip. How many times now he’s lost count? You raise yourself, grabbing him where he’s thickest. Those eyes of yours stare at him again. They continue to hold that gaze as you lower back down, grin only curling further up, as your lower lips stretch around him. 

“So big,” you say this time, and he can’t tell if you’re yanking his chain or really mean it. Your cheeks puffed and your mouth all white from shining teeth, just like the rest of you. 

Like your perky ass, kissing his pelvis. Like your thighs squeezing him, much like the vice between them. Tight, wet and hot.

“Can you handle it? Can you move, baby? Gonna ride me? Gonna cum all over me?” God. Where the hell is this coming from? Who is this guy, all confident and cocky?

The guy with the big cock in your cunt. That’s who. 

Sam chuckles to himself. Still can’t believe his luck. But you’re raising again, and sliding back down, and all he can do is hold on.

His fingers dig into your thighs. He presses his nails into your soft body. He helps you rise and fall over him. 

He’s making the ride smooth and savouring the feel of your walls closing around him. Feels the fluttering, and the beginnings of new tremors. Marvels at how much more wet you’ve become. 

The sounds. It really is music. The way you, your tits, and your skin slap with each thrust and bounce. The louder claps of his pelvis hitting yours and the sheen of perspiration between has his head swirling with images he needs.

“Come ‘ere.” Sam lifts you just slight. Raises his legs; bends his knees; jostles you so his neck doesn’t need to strain as far so his mouth can reach. 

He pistons his hips, hears the slaps, tastes the sweat, feels the pants against his chin and cheek. Memories blend, and ghosts of his past weave in and out around you. You could be Jess, you could be Sarah, but it’s you who’s mouthing him. Not exactly kissing, too focused on making your bodies move.  

“Fuck, Sam,” you squeal. 

His hands spread you wider. He grunts your name into his ear.

He can’t keep up the pace as much as he’d like to. Can’t keep up the facade. It’s better if he sees your face to remind him who he’s there with. He can’t do that with a curtain of hair. 

So he taps, twice on the fine edge of a curve, has your eyes firm on his. 

“Wanna switch, baby?” he asks, and thinks quick for a reason. “Need to see that pretty face when you come.” He’d try to roll over with you in his arms, but he can just see that being disastrous. Losing his balance or getting an elbow somewhere where it shouldn’t.

He doesn’t have to worry because you’re lifting off. You fling yourself to his side and wriggle your back against the bedcovers. Open your legs wide, hands draped where your panty line would be. 

“You gonna make me come again, big boy? Gonna fill me up with that thing?” you say, and he’s over you in one swift movement. 

Sam grabs his cock and runs the covered tip over your entrance to tease you back. Watches the twinkle in your eye as it runs over your clit and you moan, just for show. 

Man, he’s lucky. Who the hell meets someone by a urinal and then gets to fuck them? Wait, no. He doesn’t wanna answer that. He’ll just keep marvelling at his luck at the gorgeous woman below him. The one who was busting to spring a leak, now waiting for him to bust his nut and hers.

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Still, he glides back in with ease. How wet you are for him makes it so. 

He wishes he could feel it, he’s just not that stupid, but he can imagine if he remembers your mouth and how it felt ‘round him, taking him deep.

You still do.

Your legs hook over him, and he hitches the left up higher with his elbow. His cock sinks deeper, base flush against your seam.  

“Fuck me, Sam.” You’re squirming. It’s right out of a movie or a book. He’s John Snow or Jamie, and you’re - god no. You’re you and he’s him, and he’s, fuck, yeah, he’s fucking you.

He snaps his hips. Feels that burn again as his balls collide with your ass. His thumb is drawing little circles over where you join and he goes for it. 

He leans over, bending you with him, stretching you open, dreams of splitting you in two. You moan. Your walls flutter again. You tremble and your thighs contract. 

They’re powerful, much more than before. The back of your knee pulls on his arm and he only grips tighter. Hand on your shin. The other palm pushes you down.

It’s the perfect angle. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. 

Perfect to dive in deeper. Feel you flex and accommodate his size.

Your mouth produces a hiss. It’s like a whine at the same time. Forming an O with your lips that then spreads wide into an “Ah.” Elongated. A laugh. A giggle. Whatever it is, he’s doing something right because your thighs are trembling again and your leg is trying to pull away. 

His hand presses firmer, but he’s pulling you and shifting back, raising you up so you’re his handle on the ride. His tip is dragging out through you now and spearing you when he goes back in. 

Thrusts are quick. Sweat falls from his brow. He feels the way your body pushes back against him. He’s an intruder, but he’s not backing down. 

His stomach is tight. His legs ache and tremor, just as yours does. But that pull? The way his dick swells? It’s magnetised, pushes as deep as it can go. It’s determined to bury itself to the hilt. 

And when you say, “Fuck,” again, but there’s another, and an added, “God. I’m gonna come,” Sam snaps his hips and watches your face closely. 

A huge grin. The biggest yet; stretches into your eyes, twitches your lip and raises your jaw high. Your neck, exposed like a bloodsucker’s prey, and Sam is doubling over to claim it.

His tongue glides up your neck, teeth nip at your skin. He’s sucking like you’re his last meal. His pace wanes as your walls try to push him out, but he’s rocking his hips with purchase, pushing back in deep.

Another, “Fuck,” leaves you, but he’s seeing white. His balls throb and he’s spilling into what little space is left in the Trojan. He’s so far high on cloud fucking nine, he forgets where he is and who’s under him. 

He’s spent. That was way better than any quickie in the shower. The warmth beneath him. Perfect round tits pressed against his hardened chest tremble and shake. 

“Fuck.” It’s his turn now, but it comes out more like a groan. He pants. Body heavy, yet light as air. He tries to move, but everything is jello and shaking.

Your arms have been clinging to his back, your slick pussy would if it could, but it’s still fluttering, and he chuckles deep.

You giggle on reflex, and somehow it gives him the strength to look up and search for a kiss. The sweat is intense. Fruit, now barely there, but the after-sex-glow kissing your cheeks is better than anything else.

“Wow, big boy,” you say between your own pants. “Fuck.” He could hear that again and again. “That was quite a ride.”

“Yeah?” he says, though he really doesn’t have to ask. 

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s breathless, it’s hearty, it’s reminiscent of a time he should forget when you’re there with him, so he does. He tries. 

He rolls over to the side and removes the rubber. His muscles remember to roll back and drape his arm over your middle. Fingers flex at your side and he breathes in the citrus remnants in your hair as he closes his eyes and breathes in deep.

For a moment, he’s not in the dingy motel, but in his room. Yours too, maybe? He’s still at college ‘cause he is young, and he still has his whole life ahead of him. 

There are no monsters. No salt, no burns, knives or guns, and Dean? Well, Dean can be there too, he supposes. Just separate, the other side of town. Further in Milroy.

Yeah. Pennsylvania. That’s perfect, too. 

The weight of you draws him in further to dreaming. The warmth of you finally lolls him off, but neither is there when he stirs the next morning. The space in the bed beside him is cold and the thumps on the door rattle the chill he’s left with. His body, no longer jello, but stone-like, and cold. 

No feathers in sight, unless the pillow bunched up beneath him again is made of them. He is dumb if he thinks it’s true.

The newfound churning in his gut tells him he’s foolish, though, and when he opens his eyes and scans the room, he’s a bigger fool than Dean. What was he hoping for? That you’d be there with bacon and eggs? A morning coffee? Waking him up for another round?

No. Of course not. The bathroom door is wide open, and no feminine clothes, litter the floor. Of course you’d be long gone. You’d told him something of the sort last night.

“I’m counting on you leaving tomorrow.” Yes, that was it. That’s exactly what you said. He just didn’t realise you’d be the first.

Sam rubs his face. Pushes his hair back out of it and stands. The bangs are getting old, and the district “Sammy” that comes with them grates his eardrums. He’s not so big anymore.

No, he’s little brother Winchester. 

Bitch. 

“Sammy.” Dean bellows again. “Sock time’s over!” Another thump. “You’re abusing the privilege. ‘S only supposed to be two hours, max. Three if you’re ménaging.” A lecherous laugh follows.

Who’s older and who’s younger? Well, it’s only four years. 

Sam rolls his eyes and picks his boxers up as he walks around the bed. He grabs his t-shirt at the midway point, and strolls over to the door. 

Dean’s fist is held up in greeting when he opens, but Sam’s turning before the stupid grin gets any bigger. 

“Oh c’mon man. On my bed?” 

“It’s not like you were using it,” Sam says, back still towards him as he grabs what he needs and heads for the shower. 

“Where’s the girl?” follows him there.

There’s a twinge of a smile as he closes the door, but a sigh replaces it. He runs his hand through his hair again, holding it there as he looks around.

Nothing’s out of place. No signs of anyone else occupying the space unless you count the seat on the John being down. “You’re getting sentimental over a toilet?” he whispers, and shakes his head. Grabs his toothbrush; squeezes the paste.

Pearly whites and hands on him flash before his eyes. He goes through the motions after that. 

There’s a perfectly rounded tit in his hand, heaving as he squeezes, then lets go. A, “Fuck,” moaned into his ear when he turns on the faucet, plump lips and lust-blown eyes spitting on his tip when he spits into the sink. The lingering drop on the porcelain drips down nice and slow. He’s got a small mark on his shoulder. When he twists, he sees a couple of tiny dints in his back. His cock is stirring as his eyes travel his waist, imagines perfect hands gripping him firm.

“Hey, big boy,” Dean says through the crack, and it makes him startle. 

Big boy chokes and yanks on the handle. How the hell does he know? 

“You sly dog. So you did get your dingle wet.”

“What?” Sam’s voice is rather high. His cheeks are pushing the limits again and he’s hiding the smirk that’s trying to rise.

“You know.” Dean chuckles. “Widdle Sammy got waid.” He even goes as far as to slap his side as he holds up a note with ten beautiful digits scrawled between a heart and a ‘call me.’

“Give me that.” Sam snatches the note; grabs his phone, refusing to look Dean in the eye when he slams the door. They’re too busy scanning the digits, each curve, each bubble, each dot as he punches the numbers into his contacts, his thumb hovers over pressing call. 

Is he desperate? Yes, but his ego holds him back. It will at least, until they hit the road. 

From Muncie to god knows where next, he’s got no idea. Another town, another case? Maybe. But there’ll be nowhere as special there and no-one as perfect as the girl who almost…made him ditch his shoe.

For those who don’t recognise the Japanese reference, “Omae wa mou shindeiru,” (お前はもう死んでいる) translates to “you are also going to die.”

Tagging those who showed interest from the WIP folder game, and those who asked to be tagged in everything SPN ✌️

@losers-clvb @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @roseblue373 @middleearthislife

Do you want to see more Sam stuff? LMK

[paucubarsisimp]

could you write for Pablo gavi? You said you wanted more fluff requests, so I’m thinking maybe something like reader goes for a girls night out, Pablo comes and picks her up, and then while she’s all drunk and giggly they’re laying in bed and keeps asking silly questions or talking about the randomest things, but Pablo just cuddles her close with a stupid smile and nothing but love in his eyes?

tispy

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

summary: basically the request 😭

warnings: none

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

the night had been full of laughs, dancing, and way too many cocktails with your girls. you had spent hours on the dance floor, your heels clicking to the beat and your laughter mixing with the music. everything felt light and fun, but now it was that time of the night—the time when all the fun started to blur together in a warm, fuzzy haze.

you weren’t exactly planning on ending up like this, tipsy and giggly, stumbling out of the club with your friends, but that’s exactly what happened. you were buzzing with excitement, and then, suddenly, there he was. pablo, your sweet, slightly goofy boyfriend, standing by the door of the bar like he’d come to rescue you from your very own personal chaos.

he smiled, his brown eyes twinkling as he looked at you. you noticed the soft, playful glint in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was.

“ready to go home, preciosa?” he asked, leaning down to kiss your cheek. his lips lingered there for a moment, and you felt a warmth spread across your face, a mix of his affection and the alcohol.

“i don’t know…” you slurred, slightly swaying on your feet. “i’m still feeling like i need… i dunno… a taco. like, a lot of tacos. what do you think?”

pablo laughed, shaking his head. “we can’t eat tacos now, bebé. you’re drunk. come on, let’s get you home.”

you put up a dramatic fight as he led you out to the car. “but… but i’m really good at picking tacos, pablo. like, i’ve mastered the art of taco eating,” you said, looking at him with big, earnest eyes, which only made him laugh harder.

“i’m sure you have, but right now, you need sleep, not tacos,” he teased, putting his arm around your waist to guide you. “we’ll get tacos another day. okay?”

you whined but gave in, letting him help you into the car. once you were both in the backseat, your head lolling against his shoulder, you couldn’t help but giggle again. everything seemed a little bit more fun when you were tipsy, and for some reason, all you could think about were the most random, out-there questions.

you barely made it into pablo’s apartment before you were plopping down on his bed, your tipsy brain racing with thoughts that made no sense whatsoever. pablo came in after you, shaking his head in amusement as you flopped on the pillow, still giggling.

“mi amor, you’re a mess,” he said affectionately, sitting beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your waist.

“i am not a mess,” you replied with a snicker, trying to hold yourself together, but failing miserably. “i’m just… a fun mess.”

pablo rolled his eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips. “uh-huh, sure.”

“hey, pablo…” you said, turning your head to look at him, your eyes suddenly wide with deep curiosity. “do you think… like, when socks disappear in the laundry, are they secretly having their own little sock party somewhere?”

he blinked at you, blinking a few times as if processing the question. “what? a sock party?”

“yeah, like, you know—where do they go? why does one sock always go missing? are they, like, having a rave or something?” you giggled again, your head spinning just a little bit.

pablo stared at you for a moment before shaking his head with a small laugh. “you’re ridiculous, preciosa. i don’t think socks have their own party. but maybe they do. maybe there’s a whole sock world we don’t know about.”

you grinned, loving how he was humoring you. “yeah, and maybe that’s why we always find one sock alone under the couch. like, the sock that survived the party.”

“you’ve got a wild imagination,” pablo said, kissing the top of your head as he tucked you closer to him. “but i’ll go along with it. maybe socks are just more social than we think.”

you snickered, feeling cozy in his arms. “they’re just too cool for us.”

a few minutes passed, and you were still feeling playful, still wondering about the silliest things. “pablo…”

“yeah?” he asked, smiling as he stroked your hair gently.

“do you think… like, when people see an elevator button, they secretly think it might be the one that takes them to another dimension?” you asked, your voice a little more serious now, like you were actually pondering a deep question. “like… what if it’s a secret portal, but we’re all too scared to push it because it’s just… so unknown?”

pablo blinked, processing your words again. he let out a small laugh, squeezing you a little tighter. “i think you’ve had one too many drinks, but i’ll entertain this one… maybe the elevator button is the key to another world. what if it takes us to a land full of unicorns?”

“YES! that’s what i’m saying! like, what if there’s a whole society of people who just… get it? and they’ve been waiting for us to push that button for years,” you said, your eyes wide with excitement as if you were actually uncovering some great truth.

“i’m glad i’m here to discover this world with you,” pablo said, his smile never fading. “maybe tomorrow we’ll go look for the button.”

you snorted in laughter, thinking about how absurd that sounded. “yes! we’ll make history. we’ll be the first to discover the unicorn kingdom.”

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll let you lead the way, but only if you promise not to drag me through another sock rave along the way.”

“deal,” you giggled, laying your head back on his chest.

your mind was still buzzing with random questions and thoughts, and as pablo wrapped his arms around you, you let yourself float in that happy, fuzzy space where everything felt like it made sense—even though it didn’t.

“hey,” you asked after a moment, your voice full of curiosity, “do you think bubbles in a soda ever get confused? like, are they all just… bouncing around, wondering where to go?”

pablo’s chest shook with laughter. “i think the bubbles are just… doing their job, bebé. they’re probably not thinking about anything at all. they just want to get out of the soda.”

you frowned, a little disappointed with his answer. “so you’re telling me that bubbles don’t dream of being… free? flying through the air, not stuck inside a can?”

he laughed again, squeezing you. “okay, okay, maybe they dream of that. maybe all bubbles want to escape.”

you nodded thoughtfully, as if that was the most profound thing you’d ever heard. “yeah, i bet they do. poor bubbles. trapped in a cage.”

“they’ll get their freedom one day,” he said with a grin, brushing your hair back. “they’ll fly away and live their best bubble lives.”

you smiled sleepily, drifting closer to him, your eyelids heavy as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “pablo… you’re my favorite person to be silly with.”

he pulled you in even closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re my favorite person, period. silly or not. i love you just the way you are.”

you smiled sleepily, your heart full of affection for him. “you’re perfect. even if you don’t believe in the sock parties or the bubble dreams.”

he chuckled softly, his voice warm and steady. “i believe in you, preciosa. that’s all that matters.”

you sighed contentedly, the world around you slowly fading into a peaceful calm as you snuggled even closer, wrapping yourself in the safety of his arms. and for the rest of the night, you both stayed there, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence—silly questions and all.

don’t forget to leave a request!

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 43. A Helping Hand

Summary: A year later Dahlia is now helping others prepare for the Quadrant, doing what she can to make sure they get as far as they can with Challenges fast approaching. Even recruiting the help of a certain blonde first year cadet to help another struggling first year. Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

I can’t help but get a feeling of deja vu as I walk back and forth, assessing my squad on the mats in front of me. This time last year it was Bodhi and I helping Austin and Liz. Now I was here with my entire squad. I’d gone from a lone wolf to being part of a pack essentially . A strange feeling for someone who spent most of their life fending for themselves. Now I had friends who had my back, and a whole squad keep alive. If I could help it, none of these guys would die if there was something I could do about it. I know I’d loose a few along the way, but if I could prevent it for a while I would.

My eyes land on Austin who is watching Liz spar with her sister Aurora. I can see the worry etched in her features as she watches her. Austin and Liz had started on the backfoot compared to a few of us, but they still had some combat training behind them. But as I watch Aurora, it’s clear she’s got none. She’s acting on instinct as Liz approaches her. And instinct would only get her so far.

I scan the rest of the groups, trying to see who could help. My eyes snagging on the spikey blonde hair of Liam Mairi. Liam who Xaden had told me to use. Liam who had won every opponent he was put up against on assessment day. He’d more than proven himself as my squads most capable fighter next to me and… Well only me now seeing as Bodhi was part of leadership. Though he still did classes with our Squad despite that. Even now I can see him leaning up against the wall with Garrick and Xaden. All of them taking note on the groups in front of them. Most of them being marked ones from first year. All spread out just enough to not break the rules.

Liam finishes up with the squad mate he’s up against, stepping off the mat to let another one from his group step up. He turns his head as I walk over, giving me one of his very flirty smiles. Pity for him, blonde’s weren’t my type anymore, and I was more than accounted for.

”What can I do for you squad leader?” He asks as I stop in front of him.

”Just call me Dahlia.” I tell him as he nods. “I need you to change groups. I want your help with something.”

I turn my head to look at Aurora a few mats away. Aurora who trips over her own feet and ends up sprawled on her back on the mat.

”You want me to train her don’t you.” He states as if he’s read my mind. Though was definitely not hard to put together. He was my strongest cadet, and she was my weakest.

I nod. “Austin and I can’t always be here to train with you guys. We can’t be at every class. And honestly, I think she’d learn more from you. We’ll step in where we can to give you time to train with others. But we can’t prioritise one person when we have a whole squad to keep alive.”

”Thought this quadrant was more survival of the fittest and weed out the weak.” He says with a cocked eyebrow.

Shit, was Xaden wrong? No. Liam is just testing me. Probably seeing where I stand. Smart. And something Xaden would have taught him in their time together.

”It is, but there’s no way I’m letting my friends little sister be a victim of that. We’re a squad. This is our family till we leave. And family should help each other out.” I tell him sternly.

”Consider it done Dahlia. I have a little sister who will be here next year to. And I know if I wasn’t here to help her, I’d want someone to help her if she needed it. I have no clue what training, if any she’s had in the last six years.” He tells me, a sadness slipping into his voice.

“Wait, you weren’t fostered with her?” I ask as anger surges through me. Of course they would separate siblings

He nods sadly. “I haven’t seen her since they executed our parents. I know she’s alive, but that’s all. But I know if I wasn’t here to help her, I would want someone to look out for her. So consider it done.”

I smile up at him. “Thank you. I appreciate it. And if there’s anything you want, let me know.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t need anything.”

I watch as he turns and walks over to the mat Liz, Austin and Aurora are on. Instantly Austin turns her eyes to me and smiles in thanks. I can practically feel the tension leave her body as Liam takes the mat with Aurora before she walks over with Liz to a spare one. Liam is already breaking down the movements and stances for Aurora, clearly explaining in a way that works for her. I can even see her cheeks flush as he stands behind her and adjusts her stance. Oh gods, if something happened there I was not facing Austin’s wrath. Bodhi said mine was bad, but I was not messing with that.

The hour goes by quickly. Every one making some improvement which makes me happy, and Austin relax far more when she see’s Aurora start to piece together a series of moves Liam had taught her. We still had a few more days till challenges started on Monday, which hopefully would give Liam enough time to teach her more.

”Thanks for this.” Austin says as we grab our packs and head towards to door, both of us eager for food.

We’d sent Kai and Liz ahead of us to go get food while we waited for the rest of our squad to finish up. We’d come here right after flight manoeuvres, and we were very much regretting not getting something to eat prior.

”No problem. Though next time I am doing this after dinner or grabbing food first.” I say as she nods in agreement.

I turn to look around the hall, trying to spy Garrick and Xaden, but both are nowhere to be seen. I can’t help but wonder where they’ve gone. I had half expected Garrick to wait for me to go get food. Which he normally would. But this was now the second time since the year had started that he had mysteriously disappeared without saying anything.

”You all good?” Austin asks from where she’s turned to look at me.

”Yeah, just not sure where Garrick is. I could have sworn he was here earlier.” I say as I turn back to her.

”Maybe he couldn’t wait for food. He’s probably at the dinning hall waiting for you.” She says with a smile as we walk towards the dining hall.

“Yeah you’re probably ri-”

”Now!” someone shouts from behind us.

Austin and I barely get time to turn and react before bags are thrown over our heads, and within seconds everything is black.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn @emoravenwolf

[cosmicaura7]

WHOLE PACKAGE BABE, I LIKE THE WAY YOU FIT

Pairings : pedro pascal (francisco morales) x reader

Genre : f/m, smut, size kink, size difference, unprotected sex, creampie

Synopsis : In where Francisco Morales is still a virgin because of his rather large size. That was until you came along.

Word Count : 2.7k (my first time writing smut! Hope you guys enjoy.)

Taglist : none yet

Francisco Morales had never thought of himself as unlucky when it came to women, but after years of failed attempts at getting laid, he was starting to think otherwise. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He had been with plenty of women, beautiful, smart, interested. They liked him, heck even wanted him. But the moment things got intimate, they took one look at what he was packing and suddenly had an excuse to leave. Some were polite about it, some not so much, but the end result was always the same.

It had gotten bad enough that his so-called brothers in arms had decided to intervene.

Which was how Frankie found himself sitting at a dive bar with Will, Benny, and Pope, all of them nursing beers and conspiring about how to finally get him laid.

“I’m just saying…” Benny started, leaning forward with his usual shit-eating grin. “...we need to find you a woman who can handle what you’re working with, man.”

“Jesus Christ, Benny.” Frankie groaned, rubbing his face in frustration as he’s not really in the mood to discuss it any further. 

“I’m serious!” Benny gestures wildly with his beer bottle. “We gotta think strategy here. We can’t just throw you at any random woman and hope for the best.” He then started strategizing like the topic of Frankie’s virginity was some sort of football game.

“Benny, we’re not hunting for a damn prize mare. Frankie’s not some freak, he just hasn’t found the right person yet.” Will, ever the rational one, sighed to himself. 

Frankie sighed, slumping in his chair. “Thank you, Will.” He then grabs a hold of his beer to take another big gulp.

Santiago, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly smirked. “You know… I might actually know someone.” He couldn’t help but laugh in amusement at the three pairs of eyes turning towards him in confusion and interest. 

“Who?” Benny asked, intrigued.

Pope took a slow sip of his beer, as if considering. Then he grinned widely at his brothers. “She’s a friend of mine. Someone I trust. And I think she might just be exactly what Frankie needs.” He couldn’t help but contain the excitement bubbling inside his chest at the thought of setting his best friend up with one of his best friends as well.

“I don’t need a damn setup!” Frankie frowned in annoyance, taking another sip of his beer.

“Yes you do.” Bennyl cuts in, slightly flinching at the sight of Frankie glaring at him as he decides to keep his mouth shut for now.

Pope ignored his protest and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call her.” He was already searching through his contacts to look for his best friend’s phone number to immediately dial her and see if she’s available.

Frankie groaned again, but deep down, curiosity stirred. Because if Pope was suggesting someone, it meant she wasn’t just a random woman. It meant she was different. And God help him, maybe different was exactly what he needed.

-----

You had no idea what to expect when Pope called you. You’d known him for years, had run in the same circles, and trusted him more than most people. So when he told you he had a friend who needed a woman’s… expertise, you were instantly intrigued. And when you met Francisco Morales for the first time, you were absolutely sold. The man was gorgeous. Tall, broad, rough around the edges but with soft brown eyes that made your stomach flip. He was shy, almost awkward, but there was something about him that pulled you in.

And when Pope, not so subtly, filled you in on why you were here, you nearly laughed. Because this poor man had been struggling all this time over something most women would kill for.

So, after a night of drinks and quiet conversation, you leaned in, tracing a finger over the rim of your glass, and said. “You wanna get out of here, Frankie?” And you couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction.

His eyes widened slightly. “You… you sure?” He couldn’t help but tighten his grip around his beer bottle to ground himself and make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. 

You smiled. “I think you’ll find I’m not so easily intimidated.” And when you finally got him alone, when you got your hands on him, got to see exactly what had scared off so many women before you, you grinned.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. “Those poor girls had no idea what they were missing.” And as Francisco Morales let you pull him onto the bed, he had a feeling that, for the first time in his life, he had finally met his match.

-----

Francisco Morales had never felt like this before, like he was drowning, overwhelmed, consumed. You were everywhere, wrapped around him, pulling him in deeper, moaning his name like it was the only thing you could remember. And the way you looked at him, like you couldn’t get enough, like you were obsessed with how he felt inside you, it was almost too much to handle.

“Fuck…” You gasped, nails digging into his back as he thrust into you again, slow and deep, stretching you open in a way that had you shaking. “You’re so…fuck. Frankie. you’re so big.” Jesus, even the way you moan was like angels singing in his damn ears.

He groaned, burying his face against your neck, his breath hot and uneven. “Too much?” He rasped, already prepared to stop, to pull back, to give you time to adjust…

But you only clenched tighter around him, dragging him closer, your legs locking around his waist. “No…” You whimpered pathetically, rolling your hips up to meet his. Feeling absolutely desperate and needy for more. “Never too much.” You sigh out, feeling your brain soon turn into mush just like how Frankie was turning your insides into mush as well and making a complete mess out of you.

Frankie swore under his breath. He had never had this before, not just the pleasure, not just the sex, but this. The way you wanted him, all of him. His size had scared every other woman off. But not you.

You loved it.

You needed it.

“More.” You begged so prettily for him. “I want to feel all of you.” Your hands slid down his back, gripping his ass, urging him to move. 

Frankie groaned, lifting his head to look at you, and damn near lost it. You were completely wrecked, lips swollen, eyes glassy with pleasure and body shaking in ecstasy. Your nails dragged down his skin, leaving marks, as if you needed proof that he was real, that this was all real.

“You’re perfect. So fucking thick, made to ruin me.” You whispered, biting your lip as he pushed in deeper, the stretch almost too much but exactly what you wanted. 

Frankie cursed, his control slipping. He grabbed your hips, pinning you down as he thrust into you harder and deeper. You moaned, arching under him as your body shudders around him. “This what you want, hermosa?” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. “Want me to stretch you open? Fill you up?” His thrusts slowly increase its pace as his grip on the beautiful woman beneath him tightens. 

“Yes, yes! Fuck!” Your head fell back against the pillows with your body trembling beneath him. “Yes…” You whined. 

Frankie growled, his lips capturing yours in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss, swallowing your moans. He had never felt wanted like this before. And he was never letting you go.

Frankie was losing himself in you. He had never felt anything like this before, never felt anyone like this before. The way you took him, the way you needed him, the way you looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. And the way you clenched around him, so hot, so tight, so perfect, made it impossible to stop. He should stop. He should pull out. He knew he should. But he couldn’t.

Because you felt too good.

Because you wanted it.

Because he was obsessed with the way you swallowed him whole, with the way your body craved his, with the way you moaned when he filled you up. And right now, with you writhing beneath him, your fingers tangled in his hair, your breath hot against his ear as you whimpered. “Frankie, please…please don’t stop. Need you so bad…”

How the fuck was he supposed to stop?

Frankie groaned, pressing you deeper into the mattress as he thrust into you, slow and deep, burying himself to the hilt. He felt you tremble, felt your nails rake down his back, and fuck, it only made him want you more. “You feel so fucking good.” He rasped against your lips, his voice thick with need. “So tight, so perfect, taking me so well.”

“Don’t pull out.” You moaned, your back arching, your legs wrapping tighter around him, locking him inside you. “Wanna feel you. Wanna be full of you.” You breathed, your lips brushing against his. 

Frankie swore, something breaking inside him. His hips snapped against yours, his movements turning rougher, more desperate, more needy. “Fuck. You want it, hermosa? Want me to fill you up?” He gritted out. 

 “Yes! Please…” You nodded frantically, clinging to him, your walls fluttering around him.

That was all he needed.

Frankie buried himself as deep as he could, his body shaking as he spilled inside you, his release filling you up, making you gasp as you felt him flood you.

“So fucking good.” You whimpered, your legs tightening around him, holding him close, not letting him go. “So good…” You whispered to yourself, your lips brushing against his temple.

Frankie groaned, his body still trembling, his breath uneven as he pressed a lazy kiss to your collarbone. He knew he should move. He should pull out. He should clean you up. But instead, he stayed inside you, letting himself sink into your warmth, into the way you held him, into the way you fit around him.

Because fuck, he wasn’t ready to let you go.

And maybe… he never would.

-----

The room was still heavy with the scent of sex, the air thick with warmth as you and Frankie lay tangled together in the sheets. His broad chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, his heartbeat still erratic from the way he had just wrecked you. You traced lazy patterns over his skin, reveling in the way he still pulsed inside you, not yet willing to pull away. His arm was wrapped securely around you, holding you against him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Frankie let out a long, satisfied sigh, his fingers dragging through your hair as he pressed a slow kiss to your forehead. “That was…” He trailed off, searching for words.

“Yeah?” You grinned, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah…” He murmured. “Fucking perfect.” His brown eyes were soft, a little dazed, a little wrecked. 

You preened under his praise, nuzzling against his chest, feeling impossibly warm and full in every way.

And then…

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Frankie groaned as the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand shattered the peaceful silence. He ignored it at first, nuzzling deeper into your hair, but when it went off again, he let out a reluctant sigh.

“You should get that.” You couldn’t help but teased, lazily pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“I really don’t want to.” He muttered, squeezing your hip.

Out of curiosity, you peeked over his shoulder and caught the name flashing on the screen. Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia. “Oh, this is gonna be good.” You smirked. 

Frankie shot you a suspicious look before finally grabbing his phone and answering. “What?” He grumbled, voice hoarse from exhaustion. There was a beat of silence before Pope’s voice rang through the speaker, way too fucking amused.

“So…” Pope drawled. “Did she finally pop your cherry, or what?”

Your eyes went wide, and then you lost it. A surprised snort escaped you, quickly turning into full-blown laughter as you buried your face in Frankie’s chest, your body shaking with amusement.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope.” Frankie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. 

“What?” Pope said innocently. “We had a bet going. Benny swore you’d chicken out last minute.”

“I fuckin’ knew he had it in him! Pay up, Garcia!” You could hear Benny’s distant voice in the background. 

 “I hate all of you.” Frankie clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Fish.” Pope teased. “We’re proud of you, man. You finally got your dick wet.”

You howled with laughter, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as Frankie groaned again, looking absolutely fucking done. “Okay bye.” Frankie gritted out before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the nightstand.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.” Still laughing, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Frankie grumbled something under his breath before finally sighing and shaking his head, his lips twitching. 

“Maybe a little.” You grinned. 

“Think it’s time I wipe that smug look off your face.” Frankie rolled onto his side, pinning you beneath him, his large hands sliding down your waist. 

“Yeah?” Your breath hitched, your body already responding to him again. 

“Yeah.” He smirked, pressing his hips against yours, already hard again. 

And as Frankie Morales sank back into you, filling you up all over again, you decided that his friends could wait. Because there was no fucking way you were done with him yet.

-----

Francisco Morales had it bad. It had only been a few days since that first night, but in that short time, you had completely taken over his life. Every thought, every free moment, his head is just filled with you. You were insatiable, always pulling him back into bed, always wrapping yourself around him like you couldn’t get enough. And Frankie? Frankie was just as bad. If you so much as looked at him a certain way, he was done for. If you so much as brushed your fingers over his thigh, whispered something soft against his ear, he was fucking gone.

And his friends noticed.

Which was why, four days later, when the team met up at their usual bar, Frankie found himself the target of relentless teasing.

Benny was the first to start. “So Fish…” He drawled, leaning back in his seat, a shit eating grin on his face. “Haven’t seen much of you these last few days. Wonder why that is.”

“I’ve been busy.” Frankie ignored his teasing, taking a slow sip of his beer. 

“Busy, huh?” Will smirked, exchanging a look with Pope.

“I think he means he’s been buried between…” Benny grinned, nudging Pope as well. 

“Don’t.” Frankie shot him a glare. 

But Pope was already laughing. “Oh, come on, hermano. We all see it. You look like a man who hasn’t left his girl’s bed since the second he got a taste.” Despite him and the others giggling like middle school boys and making fun of Frankie, there was no denying that they were happy for him for finally finding someone he wants to spend his life with. 

Frankie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are the fucking worst.” He then takes a long sip of the beer in his hands in an attempt to hide the love sick grin on his face.

“You do know we’re happy for you, right?” Benny chuckled, leaning forward. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Frankie sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“But we’re still gonna give you shit.” Pope smirked, clapping his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. 

“Just don’t forget to hydrate, man.” Will chuckled, shaking his head. 

Frankie flipped them all off. That was when his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, and his stomach did a little flip when he saw your name pop up.

[Hermosa]: Miss you. Come over?

Frankie couldn’t help the way his lips twitched.

Oh my God, you’re so smitten.” Benny caught the look immediately and groaned. “

“I gotta go.” Frankie ignored him, already standing and reaching for his keys to get ready to leave and return back home. 

“Yeah, we know.” Pope snorted at him.

“Give her our love!” Benny called after him.

“Give her some water after you’re done!” Will added, laughing.

Frankie just shook his head, but he didn’t stop walking. Because, fuck, they were right, he was smitten. And he had every intention of showing you exactly how much.

[sunrisecaminus]

hello !! can i have some headcanons for starscream, knockout, breakdown, and airachnid (or any of them) with a human artist reader who follows them around and wants to draw them ?? thank you ><

Message - All four of these mechs are egotistical as hell, they would cherish everything their human made so this is perfect as headcanons.

Starscream/Knockout/Breakdown/Airachnid x Artist Reader Headcanons

Summary - Decepticons react to their human painting/drawing them.

Warnings - None

Starscream

Honestly he is the best mech for this type of thing. He LOVES when you draw him doing things that make it look cool. Sometimes whenever you draw him in a bad angle, he quickly tells you "Scratch it!" and watches as you quickly scribble the portrait and flip to a blank paper to restart. Starscream sees you as his secretary and pretends to order you around. "Y/n write that down!", "That is perfect for my new profile.", and "Draw me like this". If you couldn't draw him that day for being sick or being too tired, he would check up on you every hour from being so worried about you. He loves when you follow him like a puppy and doesn't want his human to die. He gets super protective about your work and would give someone a hard time if they said your art sucked. Starscream would hide you all the time from lord Megatron; he was never going to let his leader hurt the sweet little pet he got from earth. Look, Starscream understands you were a weak useless little bug for the war, and could never help them out when it comes to battling, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want you to feel alone like he use to feel, wanting you to stay safe with him and let you draw any of your masterpieces without insulting you. No he is not really good at drawing people, but after helping him learn how to draw, you realized he was very good at backgrounds.

Knockout

He has to be one of the worse people to draw, surprisingly. Knockout would go in position to let you draw him, but than thinks of a better position to draw and switches it half way for you to redraw him even though you were already focused on the first. The more the mech loves themselves, the worse it is for them to SIT STILL. Thankfully now you don't tell him when you are drawing him and secretly sketch him when he works. When Knockout sees the final portrait, he would give you compliments for the rest of the day. "My! You even got my fingers right. You flatter me~" Get ready for kisses of approval. If anyone said your drawings was shit, he would actually kill them during surgery or put them in the most torturous situations. For example, lets say a guy tells you in the face that the sketch looked like aft; If that soldier was ever injured after a battle, get ready for Knockout to just deny him his medical services. He treats you like an equal, but some would say he treats you like you were higher than Megatron. Anything you asked of him, he would answer. If you wanted something, it was his mission to give it to you. Nothing would stop him from loving you, now please give him more drawings of himself. If you taught him how to draw, he would be AMAZING at drawing people. He makes really good blueprints of Cybertronian frames and even can draw you very well. Honestly, you probably have a new drawing buddy.

Breakdown

This big boi gets so flustered every time you draw him. Breakdown can't believe his human looks up to him like that and cherishes you for showing him love in your own way. Every paper you give him makes him feel very nervous on touching it. Breakdown doesn't ever want to ruin your stuff. He will keep every single one of them and look at them in his Birth room anytime he felt stressed or angry about something. You were everything to him, wanting to protect you from the other rough soldiers he works with. Anybody that says your art is crap will get the beat down of a life time. People don't understand why he cares so much, but honestly he is one of the sweetest souls that could be with you. You mostly draw him when he is in action, taking in all the good angles of him smacking Autobots. Breakdown is proud of all the shots you got of him and pats you on the head for such good sketches. He understands you will be losing your supplies the more you sketch, so he tries to rob trucks going by to try and steal some for you. It is cool from how many different paint products he can find for you and it gives you a bigger variety of things for creativity. If you helped him figure out how to draw, he would be good at emotional paintings. Breakdown is good at making shapes and splattering paint perfectly where it should be on the canvas.

Airachnid

So we all know this freak would replace species heads with your art. She would force you to draw every species she was able to collect so she could have your achievements on paper forever. She loves it when you draw her, and hangs them everywhere on her ship. Airachnid is really good at complimenting or critiquing your work, being able to tell you where something needs to be fixed while also saying she doesn't care if you don't and still loves your style. No one would insult you for the mere fact that you are Airachnid's pet. No one would dare call your art a piece of scrap because Airachnid would murder them in front of Megatron, even if he tells her not to. Yes, she has little star stickers to put on the edge of your paintings to show which one she likes the most…yes she stickers all your art so you can't figure out which one her favorite is. Don't try to ever draw other people in front of her, she will get jealous and keep you hostage in her ship as punishment. If you had trouble finding art supplies, she would destroy a Walmart for you in no time. Her human will have a storage full of supplies, don't worry you will never run out. If you taught her to paint, she would be really good at graffiti style. Making animals or spraying bubble letter graffiti around where she killed to tease/anger the Autobots is her favorite pass time.