#and I even learnt something new so that's nice too

[callmecoke]

Sugar Baby headcanons: The type of 'Photos' they enjoy

cw: Mention of sex work (sugar baby/daddy dynamic), Sharing nudes, Poly 141 x gender neutral reader. description of fondling, masterbation, dom and sub similiar dynamic, vague allusion to spanking, teasing, Very NSFW!

After you sent them the first photo, you opened a whole new door to financial opportunities. Sure, you could normally send just about any regular photo and get a perfectly good amount of money (and praise). However, sexy pictures of you seemed to double the amount you’d normally get. So, of course, you’d capitalise on that, especially with the men who have been incredibly generous to you. Over time, you’ve even learnt how the individual boys like their photos and thus can cater when needed.

Gaz absolutely LOVES seeing you oiled up and naked for him. Especially when he gets to see those ass cheeks of yours. He loves how the body oil makes your skin glow vibrantly, how the light reflects off your skin, and how wetness defines every crevice and little detail on your body. He’s constantly talking about how much he wants to touch you, how he’d rub the oil over your uncovered breasts, groping and pulling at every bit of flesh you’d let him touch. How he’d pull your ass cheeks apart and let his skilled and defined fingers rub over your swollen and begging hole. God, he wished he could touch you.

Prices will pay for just about any small item you might want if you tell him you want it. Do you plan on going for a little shopping spree? Here’s 500 hundred, and an extra 50 for the lunch. He wouldn’t want you to starve and tire yourself out with all that walking. There is a bit of a catch, though. Anything you buy, you have to send him pictures of. And sure, he loves the normal sfw pictures you send. But nothing gets him harder than receiving a little picture of you clad in the new lacy undergarments you bought with his well-earned money. How you shyly present yourself to the camera, expensive fabric adorning your pretty flushed skin. The little twinkle in your big round eyes, silently seeking his approval. And oh, does he approve. He approves so much that he’ll describe in detail how he’d have that nice underwear dangling from your ankle as he bent you over his knee.

With Johnny, well, Johnny is an appreciator of just about any flash of skin you’d let him put his eyes on. Chest, ass, thighs, half-naked, fully naked, an inch of exposed ankle, doesn’t matter. He’ll take it, and he’ll be grateful for it. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it when you make him beg for his prize. You like to play little teasing games with him, sending him photos of you with your hands on the hem of your shirt, gently pulling it up. Enough to show your midriff, but never enough to entirely pull over your head and reveal the delicate beauty of your bare chest. With this one photo, you’d have him drooling like a dog and begging like one too. He’d try and bargain, offering up just about anything to get you to take the shirt off and show him your perky nipples. And I mean anything. You want money? He’s got money. You can take as much as you want, all of it even. He’ll beg if you want to if you’re into making a grown man paw at your feet. Whatever you want, you can have; just please, please, put the poor man out of his misery and let him get a peek of those gorgeous tits. 

Now, Simon, he’s a little trickier to figure out. He rarely makes comments or sends you messages, only using single-word responses on rare occasions. It’s challenging to get a read on him. So, instead of guessing what he wanted, you decided to just…ask. You quickly realised that having you utterly subservient to his demands was his biggest turn-on. He’d give you specific instructions detailing exactly how he wants you. Legs spread, sitting up on your bed, no clothing ‘cept for underwear (Of HIS choosing. Something thin and sluty, where he can see the whole fullness of your weeping sex behind the small fabric). He wants you to arch your back; show it to him, luv. He wants your hand on your pretty aching arousal, playing with yourself for his entertainment like his good little pet. You find he's a lot more talkative when you let him order you around like this. He’s more than happy to reward obedience, especially with such a good, obedient pet like yourself.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hiii i just saw your post prision Spencer post with sunshine reader and im soooo in love with it (and in love with him too tbh) could you please do a pt2? Have a nice day💕

spencer and sunshine!reader have set routines on office days and spencer likes flirting pt 1 of their story 🤭

“Spencer Reid, prepare to have your mind blown!” You announce as you walk into the bullpen, your Mary Janes clacking against the tiles. You’re in a skirt today, Spencer supposes it’s because it’s a designated office day- there’s only three a month, but every time there is one, you come in an outfit Spencer would never even dream of. 

Today you’re channelling your inner Elle Woods. He knows about her from Resse Witherspoon, but also from your innate love of the film and the fact that you forced him to watch it on the jet once. 

You’re wearing a pretty black skirt, a grey top and a baby pink blazer that matches the pink socks you’re wearing and your eyeshadow that he just about makes out behind your glasses. 

“With what?” He’s on his way back from the kitchen, your prized orca mug in one hand and his mug in the other.

This is your new routine; you and Spencer have coffee in the morning while you both work through your crosswords and then get started on filing away reports for the many serial killers you’ve either interviewed with Tara or put away with the team. It’s fun, and it’s always something to look forward to, especially on designated office days. 

These specific mornings, you have time for a game you’ve fondly named, ‘Making Spencer Try International Desserts.’

Spencer can smell your perfume, you smell like you always do- orange blossom, coffee and lavender. It’s intoxicating, the way the scent just floats into him with every move you make. 

“The season calls for it, so  I got pavlova. It’s a New Zealand dessert and I got it with raspberries, strawberries and a passion fruit syrup situation to go on top.” 

Spencer knows the informational side to everything in the world but he’s never tried some of it out, as you’d learnt on a night out for drinks, so you’d started the game as a way to help him get real world knowledge of fun things- the operative word being up for debate but he hadn’t objected yet. 

He clears his desk, making space for the two little boxes you have in your hand. “They’re a little sweet for breakfast, but you only live once.” You open up the boxes and Spencer is shocked to see the mini pavlovas and the fruit sitting beside it in a clear container. 

“Do you like these?” He asks, handing over your coffee to you and pulling his box towards him. 

“I do, but they’re more of a picnic food to share in my opinion. Like you need to be having a bar-b-que or a garden party to have the full effect of these.” Spencer isn’t surprised by your enthusiasm for the dessert- your little stories about every one you’ve shared with him is enthusiastic for how and when to eat them. 

You sneak into the kitchen and return with two spoons. “Okay, try to get a bit of everything on your spoon.” 

Spencer does as you say, a bit of the berries, the passion fruit and the shell of the pavlova on his spoon as he takes his first bite. You sit in anticipation, watching him chew and swallow like it’s the most fascinating thing a person could do. 

You try not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows or the way his tongue pokes out to lick away some of the meringue at the corner of his mouth. Spencer catches the way your eyes widen at the action and suppresses a smile. 

“What do you think?” You busy yourself with setting up your own perfect bite, willing your body not to give away any of your fluster at being caught looking at him. 

“It was really nice, I like the different textures.” Spencer compliments, watching you take your own bite and letting himself smile when some of the passion fruit syrup and meringue stain your bottom lip. 

Without really thinking, his thumb comes to your face, wiping away the stain easily. Your breath hitches and Spencer feels it, his smile widening even more. There’s a moment where you both just stare at each other, your breathing filling the silence- you’re fighting the urge to lean in and kiss Spencer and he’s fighting the urge to lick his thumb. 

“You only pretend to be this coy man, don’t you Doctor Reid?” you ask finally, leaning back in the chair you’re in and crossing your legs. Spencer’s sure his brain short circuits for a moment, your thighs have been a source of his torture for months now, especially when you wear skirts and dresses. 

“You know you only call me ‘Doctor Reid’ when you’re flustered?” he tries changing the subject, leaning forward a bit to get a little closer to you. 

“You have a knack for topic evasion, Spencer.” he laughs, a soft, sweet sound and he shakes his head. 

“I have a knack for you,” you can feel your heart pounding in your ears, more so when Spencer’s fingers wrap around the arm of your chair and pull you closer to his desk. “Where’s your crossword?”

[targaryenluvs]

— TRAPPED (WORDS NOT SAID)

pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: cold!corio, murder, nc kissing, possessiveness, very controlling thoughts and actions, arranged marriage, cheating, dark-ish themes since he’s literally insane HAVE U SEEN THE BOOKS? not proof read

summary: after the 10th hunger games, coriolanus set his sights on a girl from his younger years to be his wife. disgusted by his actions and scared by the rumours your family agreed. as you realise he wasn’t the same boy from before, snow finds himself intrigued, especially when you seem to be visiting a friends house too often.

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: i don’t usually write toxic shit but like that’s the definition of snow and his cute lil intrusive thoughts so here u go 😘 this man is a bad man especially after lucy. so i find it so funny when he’s super sweet in some fics but he’s super like ooh she needs protection, oh she’s fragile you get me???

PLEASE READ WARNINGS

there was no point in crying.

you knew that.

but at the prospect of marrying a man whom you barely even knew scared the hell out of you, and the thought of not being with your albeit secret boyfriend, not getting to marry him, start a life with him? it was unbearable.

your dress was crisp white, like snow. of course.

the memories of that day were jumbled in your head, you remember being stuffed into a dress, your hair and face being pulled every which way and holding coriolanus’s hands as you listened to his vows, void of emotion in the eyes but with a slight smile on his face. you couldn’t even recall what happened afterwards. and you didn’t want to. coriolanus hadn’t even let you properly bid your family farewell before he’d sweeped you away to your new home, courtesy of your parents and the plinths.

and even if your home was cold and distant you tried your best to be nice and easy with snow. you’d wear what he wanted, did what he wanted and everything else. you could tell he found comfort in control, knowing what was happening, being able to tell people what to do. even if you hated to admit it, it suited him.

in a rare moment, his mask would slip. the mask that kept his true thoughts and emotions neatly stored away, it would fall. and you revelled in them, a genuine smile, across his face. but as soon as it slipped, his walls were back up and he was straightening his red coat and out the door.

over the next months you’d learnt to keep yourself in check, there was no point in trying to bond with coriolanus, he knew his boundaries in your relationship? marriage? whatever it was, it was just on paper. you were mere passing acquaintances at best. you’d have breakfast together, he’d leave the house, you’d occupy yourself with the house, the library, entertainment, shopping, he’d come home, dinner and then off to your rooms.

but over a few weeks ago you’d met someone new.

andrenis was insanely gorgeous, his eyes shone in the sun and his brown hair reminded you of chocolate. he was breathtaking and he loved you. it’d been so long since you felt love, pure and devoted love to someone. the vacant halls of coriolanus’s and yours home were at the back of your mind in his presence.

at first youd started of friends of course and as you continued you felt, alive. every time he looked at you, talked to you everything faded to the back of your mind. but what you didn’t know was that snow had taken note. he’d noticed you skipping out on breakfast at times, your maids always claiming that you’d been reading late, working late and so on.

working late? you were married to him, what work could you possible have? why were you sleeping so late? could you not do your reading during the day? what was taking your attention, who?

even if you didn’t talk much, let alone see eachother you were a constant in his life now. something that gave him comfort of sorts. small talk with you in the morning and night, seeing you in the halls, your laugh echoing through the halls as you talked with staff, your scent lingering in the library and the drops of blood on his roses, since you were the only person whom he allowed to tend to them.

for him, you were security.

he knew you wouldn’t leave since you had no reason to. there was no love holding you to this relationship, you had a comfortable life, your friends and family in your reach and the luxury that you lived in. you were free, in your eyes. but in reality the second your own pen touched that paper and you signed the certificate your life was taken from you. even if you didn’t know it, coriolanus had been monitoring you from afar.

keeping track of what you did, where you went, what you spent. it was all to make sure you made it home of course. nothing less, nothing more.

so imagine his surprise when he heard reports of you sneaking out of the house and returning in the early hours of the morning.

for some reason he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his heart. why on earth would you be sneaking out? was this home not enough? the roof over your head and the food in your stomach? the bed you sleep in and the man you call your husband. your loyalty should be unwavering yet here he was, watching you creep out of the house through the servants quarters.

his jaw clenched and his fists curled as you laid your hands against his chest, foreheads against the others. “i’ve missed you my love.” the man’s voice echoed through his head.

words he’d never said to you.

“i know, but we are together and that is all that matters. i love you andrenis.”

words you’d never said to him.

“i’m to visit district 12, my father wishes for me to visit my brother. you know what he did, his punishment was to be a peacekeeper. but his time is up and mother misses him terribly. i do not know how long i will be y/n, but i will bring you back whatever you wish.”

“and what exactly will you get from district 12 that my dear wife will will not be able to get here?” it wasn’t a question, even if it was said as one. there was not a single thing that he wouldn’t give his wife. to keep up your appearances of course, he couldn’t have you going without something you wanted.

your heart was racing and your hands sweaty as you instantly pulled away from andrenis. snows eyes bore into his, andrenis breathed deeply before speaking, “coriolanus. you look good, rising above the ranks, marrying up are we?”

andrenis layworth. not only did coriolanus despise him but he knew how he truly acted. he should’ve stayed away from things that weren’t his, never were and never would be.

“andrenis!” you scolded him, it was already embarrassing in your eyes to be caught with him by your husband but you wouldn’t let him mock coriolanus.

your husband reached his hand out towards you, and you accepted as he spoke up. “i hope your travels are safe, andrenis.” the two of you walked away, him placing you into the car before shutting the door. he tapped on the back as you drove back home, without him to your surprise.

andrenis was taken aback. in all the time he’d been with you, you’d failed to mention your husband was him. and as much as andrenis would hate to say it, snow did intimidate him. nowadays at least. he rarely showed emotion, he was always proper and dressed appropriately, but all that didn’t matter when snow had his mind. his wit, intelligence and cunning was far more impressive than most.

he’d always kept himself in check.

but as coriolanus snow walked towards him with certainty he backed himself all the way into the dark alley as he was grabbed by his collar and slammed into the wall. “my wife. she is my wife, no one else’s. just because your pockets may be deeper than mine does not mean that i won’t hesitate to get you out of my way. you could never be worthy of her and if you so much as look at her, i will make sure you will never see the light of day. perhaps you’ll have a fall, or a crash with your traitor brother?”

the mask had fallen and the only thing left behind it was pure rage.

“or maybe we’ll hang? what would that be, three deaths on your hands?” andrenis smirked as coriolanus’s face dropped. he grabbed andrenis and shoved him infront, pushing him to walk. “you’re going to district 12 and you will never come out.” andrenis laughed loudly, “such terror you impose, poor coriolanus, clawing his way to the top. marrying a woman by force-”

“on second thought.”

a single gun shot rung through the air.

“district 12 isn’t low enough for you.” snow spoke as andrenis tried to crawl away from him. “no place on earth deserves the dishonour of having you waste their resources. the air you breathe is a privilege, that should not be taken by you.” coriolanus pulled him up by his hair, “the second you decided to be with her, was the day that you died.”

andrenis’s eyes were closing, fear swimming around. but corio couldn’t bring himself to care. his mind was clouded, for once he wasn’t thinking clearly. as he walked back into the house he saw you, sat with your head in your hands, jumping up at the sound of him entering. “corio.”

his heart was beating erratically at the sound of your voice, so soft and welcoming. why hadn’t he noticed your sweetness before?

“i’m so sorry, i- i was weak. we rarely speak to eachother, let alone allow ourselves to love. with andrenis, he reminded me of it, reminded me how it felt to love and to be loved. i won’t see him again, i promise.”

so submissive, rather than standing your ground. getting angry at him for forcing you into the marriage, for not talking to you, you were apologising. whilst you may have been disloyal he saw it only as a weakness. a bad habit to which he could help, he could fix. and he knew you’d keep your promise, not because you’d try your hardest but because andrenis was a cold stiff body in the bottom of a construction site. a mugging victim? an accident? it didn’t matter how his passing was seen as, he was gone and he’d never return.

he’d made sure of it.

as he walked towards you the scene from before replayed in his head as you walked backwards with every step you took, and in your eyes he saw what he craved to enforce, terror. and you were so small to him, something fragile, in need of control and order.

“don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe, i’m all you need.” corio spoke as his face got closer. the rise and fall of your chest was rapid, your eyes were wide as you realised what he was trying to do. you quickly turned your head but he quickly forced you to look at him, fingers digging into your face, “i give you everything, i will always give you everything. you deserve nothing but the best and i am the only one who can give it to you, you need me. do you understand?” he questioned as you began to cry, you’d never seen him so unhinged. his hair was slightly out of place, a strand infront of his eye.

(zayn malik vibes)

his coat was off, most likely hung on the door way and his sleeves were rolled, his usually pristine white shirt was crinkled, dirty. what had he been doing after you left? you’d gotten your answer as your teary eyes blinked away the tears, focused on his bare arms,

blood.

“corio, please. what did you do?” you cried as his hand made its way to your neck as he pressed your forehead to his, your stomach swirling and head spinning as a sense of deja vu crossed you, andrenis.

“what i had to, i will always do what i have to. nothing is ever handed to me.”

“you didn’t-”

he laughed, “snow lands on top, in life and on you.”

(going to puke why did i write that it’s so cringe)

the kiss was nothing like you ever had. it wasn’t sweet, passionate, rather hungry, as if he was chasing you, afraid you’d run. as if you could, he’d let one girl get away and with how he looked at you in this moment?

you were trapped.

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀arguing w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: as much as you love your older brother you end up second guessing him, tired of only being allowed to talk to him and wishing you had some friends like other girls did ૮��っ˕ -｡꒱ྀི𑁬

tw: angst, caleb slaps reader, they argue (obviously), tons of manipulation, rape mentions, drug mentions, caleb’s a fake to people, pathetic reader, overall this is really toxic, etc.

caleb was waiting for you parked in front of your uni, toying around with the necklace you gifted him when you were kids while his mind drifted away.

he was so excited for today, friday’s being his favorite days of the week since he took you out to eat and then had a walk by the meadowy park near your house. it was simple but he enjoyed every second he shared with you.

he didn’t need much more than that, really. he just needed you.

all the girls at your uni were hands down for your handsome older brother, trying to approach him every chance they’d get and getting politely rejected, even though he felt disgusted by them and thought they were vulgar whores; he was pretty good at hiding it.

you, on the other hand, started to feel lonelier each passing day.

ever since you were a kid you shared all of your time with caleb up until now. you told him everything, lived every moment together. there was no memory in which he didn’t appear.

and you really really liked that, you wouldn’t want that to change. but there’s been the longing for a friend, someone who wasn’t caleb, someone new.

you’ve always tried to get to know some of your classmates, feeling a little bit guilty when you disobeyed your big brother’s orders. it wasn’t hard for you to socialize, you were actually very good at it!

a nice sweet girl with a pretty voice and soft smile? who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?

well, every single time you thought you made a friend they would separate ways with you in a couple days, which made you feel sad and insecure.

why are they living you so fast, were you rude, said something bad, appeared weird perhaps?

far from reality the only one to blame was caleb, who had his eyes glued to you every second of the day and didn’t miss on how you tried you break free from the brainwash he managed to give you throughout the years.

he learnt this would happen every so often, and stopped confronting you about it long ago.

yes, he used to argue with you about this kinda thing, complaining about you getting along with other people and playing the victim, crocodile tears down his face as he begged you to never leave him.

so what he’d do now it’s confront the person in question directly, maybe to threat them, maybe to beat them up, maybe to kill them if they got too annoying.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hey, pips, how was today?” he asked with a boyish smile plastered on his round lips, frowning when he noticed your crossed arms and pouty face, not even greeting him and looking out the window to avoid his purple eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i’m talking to you.” he mentioned your name in a serious manner, locking the doors before grabbing both your cheeks with one of his big hands to make you face him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i want to go to the party.” you simply muttered, avoiding his gaze while you tried to pull away from his grip, making him wrap your throat now. “we’ve already talked about that, princess. and it’s still a no.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“but mom and dad said i could go!” you complied, crossing your arms again. a tantrum is the last thing he needed from you today.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mom and dad don’t know what’s best for you. i do.” he spat, letting you go and mimicking your pose now. “you wanna know what goes down at these frat parties, hmm?” caleb challenged you, tracing the shape of the steering wheel while speaking.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there’s people getting high on anything they can find, fainting, vomiting because of how drunk they are, fucking everywhere.” he knew the party you wanted to attend was nothing like that, your classmates telling about the party to your parents and describing it as ‘chill’ and ‘safe’.

caleb totally believed that, they seemed fucking boring.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“what? no, that’s not true! you’re a big liar!” you yelled at him, feeling how his hand collided against your cheek; you knew you crossed the lane when you raised your voice at him. so you just took it, going silent after that.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“if you wanna get drugged and raped by the whole fucking class then go ahead, i’m done with this conversation.” he spat, engine vibrating beneath your feet as he drove you two back home. what a failure of a friday.

the whole drive you sat down there, tears rolling down your face as you quietly whimpered, cleaning them with the sleeves of your sweater.

you just wanted to make friends and go on a party for once to at least die knowing how it feels to be like the other girls. but that made your gege upset, and you loved him more than anything, more than you loved yourself.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“it hurts me more than it hurts you.” caleb broke the silence after parking in front of your house, resting his head against the headrest and sighing, looking at you now.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“‘m sorry, gege. i’m being selfish.” your voice trembled, reaching out for his hand to hold it up against your lips, kissing it several times, tears wetting his pale skin.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i don’t like hurting you like this, you know that. why you make me do it, doll. why can’t you just listen?” he kept on questioning you, his palm pressing against the cheek he slapped minutes prior, caressing the imprint his fingers left.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i know, i know, i’m truly sorry. please forgive me, please gege. i love you.” you kept on apologizing, rubbing yourself against the attention he gave you, feeling the tears fall again and again.

he wasn’t faced by your crying. sure, he didn’t like to see you cry, but he knew he had to be strict with you in order to make you behave. you really hurt his feelings and you had to know your actions had consequences.

it took him a few days to completely forgive you, days in which you had to wake up without him, in which you had to cook for yourself and come back home by foot all alone.

days in which you remembered your gege was all that mattered in your life and realized that you didn’t need any friends, because no one would know how to treat you or take care of you like your old brother did.

and just like that caleb got away with it again, torturing you to make you behave, obliging you to live without him even if it was just a couple of days to make you see how much you actually needed him.

you finally understood after all; no friends, only caleb. you made yourself believe you were okay with that. ⠀ ⠀ 　　　

a/n: this was a request from an anon! I hope you like it, bunny. I feel like i outdid myself with this one, this is how i see caleb in my mind fr ᥩྀི ´ ᩳ ` ꒱

— masterlist.

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (i)

SUMMARY: Despite appearances, you’d learnt Soldier Boy was, actually, capable of being a good man. Somehow, you’d wormed yourself into his good books, and had the rarest privilege of seeing him without the suit, the drugs, the ego, the everything. Just as things were going good, his heart somehow getting even warmer for you, the world separates you in the cruelest way.

PAIRING: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3573

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Sexism (set in the 1980’s), typical Soldier Boy behaviour, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, questionable morals (peer pressuring drug use), sexual content, eludes to smut, Soldier Boy may be a bit OOC at times, gore.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Becoming a world famous supe was never something you’d ever wanted. Sure, you’d grown up with their photos on your bedroom walls, your father telling you stories of when the first ever supe came to be, insisting he fought alongside the Soldier Boy in the war

The people around you seemed to idolise them. These… mostly regular people in tight suits, pretending to be better than everyone else.

You knew better. You knew enough. Enough to know supes were dirty, and corrupt, and definitely not the heroes they presented themselves to be. That their hands were more blood than they were skin anymore.

And, frankly, you wanted nothing to do with Vought or Payback — or whatever the fuck those shitty, useless superhero teams were called. (Seriously, what did they actually do? Except sit in their pretty tower and take the peoples’ taxes?)

Your father, however, had different ideas.

So, at 18, you woke up in the hospital, after an ugly head collision, with superpowers you’d never had before. A miracle, the doctors called it, a supe whose extraordinary powers had been hidden for her whole life. When you got home, you forced the truth out of your father. Compound V, he called it, a new chemical made by Vought.

No one was born a supe, he admitted, it all came from a liquid in a vial. The truth hurt you, as much as it didn’t really surprise you. Chosen by God, my ass.

This wasn’t supposed to be your life.

But it’s certainly what it turned out to be.

Payback were as shitty, if not more, than you’d originally thought. Each of them had… many flaws. Soldier Boy, obviously, was the worst. If the Devil reincarnated himself, he’d look and act like Soldier Boy.

Simply talking to the man made you want to shoot yourself.

Well… it did at one point.

Two years down the line, things had changed. Soldier Boy was still insufferable, sexist, arrogant, and a major asshole. But… he wasn’t so much a dick directly to you, as he used to be. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was actually somewhat nice to you. As much as his macho heart could manage, anyway.

You noticed it the first time when he saved your life on a mission. He’d grabbed your waist when a grenade clinked at your feet, whirling you around and to the ground, squashing you against his firm chest, using his shield to protect you both from the hot blast. He’d shrugged it off as nothing; as something any leader would do for his team. Then you watched him hit Gunpowder about for not following his order to a T, and realised… maybe he did treat you different.

It was undeniable these days.

You were the only person on Payback that Soldier Boy could remotely tolerate.

“You need’a be more careful.” Despite the hard look on his face, Soldier Boy was staring down at you, as a Vought doctor wrapped clean bandages tightly around your midsection. It was a bullet to the wound; which, with being a supe, wouldn’t be too bad, but you didn’t heal inhumanely fast like he did. “You’re fuckin’ useless when you’re hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for your concern, Soldier Boy.”

His eyes narrowed into a harsh glare. “Ben.” He corrected you, for what was probably the 50th time. Each time he did, he got more annoyed with you. “How many times do I have to say it? Is there a brain in that pretty head’a’yours?“

You grunted, spinning on the bed and hanging your legs off the side of it. “Thanks for the compliment.” Ben rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, not offering a hand as you groaned in discomfort and got to your feet. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be healed up by the time we set off for Nicaragua, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout.”

Ben just grunted, displeased. “Ain’t happenin’.” He immediately shot that idea down. “We leave for Nicaragua in two weeks. You ain’t comin’. Sit this one out.”

You stared, expecting a joke. Clearly, he wasn’t. “Seriously?” You groaned, unhappy. What was it with this guy? “I’ll be fine. It’s a silly little bullet.”

“I was holdin’ your fuckin’ guts in your body.” He walked away, reminding you of just how bad your injury actually had been. He had, indeed, practically been keeping your guts inside of you as you bled out. “You ain’t going. You’re stayin’ here.” You chased after him, pulling your shirt on as you left the infirmary.

“Ben—“

He whirled around to face you. “I said, you’re fucking staying.” He growled, glaring down at you. God, were you glad you were on his side. This man was terrifying. Six feet of pure muscle, strength and violence. “You’re better off here, using that face of yours to get some PR.”

“And, what? The others will back you up?” You scoffed, grabbing his wrist as he went to walk away again. His expression went cold at your touch, but you didn’t flinch. As much as he tried to scare you, Ben wouldn’t raise a hand at you… probably. You had faith in the man. “They can’t fight for shit, Ben. Gunpowder hasn’t even discovered his own dick yet. You think you’re gonna have your back covered out there?”

He ripped his wrist away harshly. “I don’t need my back covered.”

“Everyone needs their back covered.” You argued. “Even you.”

He chuckled, sarcastic and dry. “You worried ‘bout me, princess?” You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look, as he took a step closer, mouth curled into that ever-infuriating smirk. “I’d perform better if you sent me off with a taste of that—“

“Ben.” You interrupted him, unimpressed. You rolled his eyes at his predictable behaviour. “I’m not gonna fuck morale into you.”

“Shame.” His eyes flicked up and down, tracing the curves of your body. “Bet you’d be a firecracker.” He walked away again, and you threw your hands up, groaning. Ben chuckled as he turned the corner. “Think it over, sweetheart.”

“You’ve got a hand.” You called back to him. “Use it!”

Conversations like that were very common with Ben.

It’d be a normal conversation (as normal as it gets with him) — and then he’d start talking about fucking you against the nearest surface, and all pleasantries went down the drain. Seriously, he thought 80% with his dick, and 20% with his actual brain.

And that was being kind.

But, beneath all of his macho assholery, was his genuine worry. You knew he wasn’t letting you accompany the rest of the team to Nicaragua because of your injury, despite how minor it was, and that he was worried you’d injure yourself further.

You’d never slept with Ben, despite how much he’d tried to charm you into his bed. Your relationship was strange. He flirted, you flirted — there were lingering touches. And, sure, he’d never put his dick in you, but his fingers were a different question. And… oh, boy, could that man use his hands.

It was like being in a relationship, just without the sex. Which was odd, as it was Soldier Boy. But, the way he smiled at you and treated you, it made you feel different to the other women.

He was just… shit it showing it.

Poor bastard wouldn’t know emotion if it slapped him in the face.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

“I am not wearing this.”

Okay… scratch all of that. Maybe Ben was just a dickhead.

He lounged back in his chair, grinning lazily, legs spread like he owned the place. He probably thought he did. “Why not?” He took a sip of his whiskey, ice clinking against the sides, eyes never leaving you from over the rim of the glass.

You held up the fabric. “Seriously?”

It was basically a scrap of fabric, with how much it covered up. You didn’t shy away from showing skin. You quite liked short skirts and pushing the line. Because, as a supe, there was a line. Vought liked it when you showed skin — apparently it made your ratings go up with the male fans, no shocker. But, too much skin on display, the male fans started calling you a whore, and the ratings shot back down.

It was a bit like a balancing game, trying to find the perfect amount of skin to make the boys ogle but also respect you. An impossible feat, truthfully.

And this? This was definitely classed as too much.

“I don’t see the issue.” His smirk said otherwise.

“My tits are not gonna stay in this, Ben!”

His smirk just grew. “Again, I don’t see the issue.”

You groaned and put the dress down. “No. I’ll get my own dress. I am not wearing that.” You tell him, arms folding across your chest. You didn’t miss the way he checked out your tits, and the way the placement of your arms accentuated them.

He rolled his eyes, obviously not happy with your decision. Leaning towards, elbows on his knees, Ben’s eyes took you in. “Why?” His head cocked to the side. “You’d look hot. It’d make your ass look great.”

“That’s not a compliment.” You grumbled, pushing a hand through your hair. Ben made a small grunt of disagreement, but didn’t say anything otherwise. “Listen, there’s a certain line. Alright? If I wear that, every guy out there will be callin’ me a whore. Okay? Imma find something else.”

He hummed and sat back. “I think you should wear that one.” Sighing heavily, you just rolled your eyes at his persistence. “All those assholes will be blowin’ their pants just lookin’ at you, sweetheart.”

“Again, not a compliment.”

Ben stared at you, and silently took another sip of his whiskey. He always seemed to think these crude, rather sexist and inappropriate remarks were compliments. Like commenting on your body. Or saying you’d be a freak in bed. Which were obviously not actually compliments.

You rolled your eyes, rubbing your forehead. “I’ll find another dress, Ben.” You told him, definitive. There was no way he was going to convince you to wear that dress.

“What a disappointment.” He grinned, lopsided. “I was lookin’ forward to seein’ you in that dress.”

“Again,” you deadpanned as he checked you out once more, “you have a hand… use it.”

Ben just smirked, and sipped his whiskey again.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You wore the fucking dress.

The asshole always won. Always.

He looked so fucking pleased, as you walked into his after-party, wearing the dress he’d picked out for you. His smugness was clear, brushing through the crowd with ease to come to you.

Ben hummed, eyes dilating as he stared you down. His eyes lingered on your tits, as they always did. “You look…” he hesitated, trying to think of a compliment that wasn’t degrading, and failed, “fuckin’ hot. If you weren’t such a bitch, I’d bend you over right here.”

Your face pulled together in disgust, looking at him with your lips pressed together “… gross.”

He chuckled. “Drink?” He offered. “I got your favourite.”

And there he goes again.

Being nice.

It did your damn head in.

Accepting his offer, you shivered as his large hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. They all seemed to part like the Red Sea as he came through, a fact that amused you greatly.

Seriously. These women looked at him like he was Jesus reincarnated, when he’d totally call them in a whore in bed.

Ben silently reached out for your favourite alcoholic drink, pouring it into a glass. His eyes scanned over the room, smirking at a few of the women ogling, sending them rushing to their friends and squealing. He merely chuckled and handed you the full glass.

“Thanks.” You murmured, taking it from him. Your eyes stared up at him for a moment, curious, before looking away again.

What was it with him? How could be such an egotistical one minute, and then be nice and respectful the next? It was like a guessing game, trying to figure out what mood he was in.

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm, but not enough to hurt you. “Come with me.” He guided you through the crowd once again, to the doors in the back. As he pushed through into the room, he flashed you a cocky grin over his shoulder. Dickhead.

This room was far quieter. You noticed, immediately, the only people present were supes and celebrities, not the random civilians that’d been granted a pity invite — or the women Ben thought were hot. This was the main party. There were drugs covering every table, with various big names passed out on the chairs, blazed.

Ben lead you to the corner, where he’d obviously already been busy, if the half-snorted lines of cocaine proved anything.

Silently, he offered you a line, which you gratefully accepted.

You didn’t do drugs before you joined Payback. In fact, you’d avoided them, promising yourself you’d never become that type of person. But it was the norm within Vought. Every supe spent their nights filling their bodies to the brim with various drugs, poisoning themselves. So, you started smoking weed to fit in.

Then Ben found out you only did weed, and decided it wasn’t enough. With enough pressure, he’d gotten you onto any other substance he could convince you to try.

It made you more attractive, in his eyes, as you spiralled into addiction like him.

In fact, it got him rock hard, to snort lines or share a joint with you. It was so fucking hot, watching your eyes glass over as you got higher with every hit, with every line. God, it turned him on so bad.

You snorted your third line of the night, when Ben suddenly pushed you back into your chair. Bewildered, you stared at him, as he snatched up a baggie of the white powder. Your heart leapt to your throat, the moment he moved aside the slit in your dress, revealing the bare skin of your thigh. All breath left your lungs, watching him pour some of the powder onto your thigh.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He was about to do a line off you.

He glanced at you through his lashes, smirking at the shocked and flushed expression you wore. He used his pocket knife to cut the lines, mindful of the sharp blade against your soft skin.

God, this was hot. He found it hot. You found it hot. It’d be a damn miracle if you ended the night with your clothes on at this point.

Your skin tingled as he sniffed up the first line, of his hands roughly gripping the top of your thigh to steady you, his other holding a rolled up $100 bill. He groaned in pleasure, body physically shuddering, head shaking, as the drug made his body run hot.

He did the next line, the grip on your thigh becoming tighter as his pupils began to blow up.

Was it getting hot in here? Or was it just you?

Maybe it was the cocaine in your systems, maybe it was the fact Ben was just… so damn hot, but you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing his hair and forcing his head up as he snorted the final line off your thigh.

He looked up at you, pupils blown, lips parted. Holy shit. This man was sculpted like a fucking God. Your body shivered. “You finally takin’ my offer, sweetheart?” He chuckled, shaking off the immediate effects of the cocaine, raising himself up to your level.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, breathless, practically begging him.

His eyes went dark, almost black, with lust. The smirk on his lips made you squeeze your legs together. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You now understood the hype. You understood why women bent their knees the moment Ben uttered a word to them.

Holy shit, did this man have talent.

Your legs were still twitching, the space in between your legs throbbing and tingling with how many times you’d come on his fingers, his tongue and cock. You’d counted four, before your vision had gone white.

Jesus, he had stamina. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it’d been just over five hours since you’d first fell into Ben’s bed. That super strength was better for more than just fighting, after all. This man should be advertised for his abilities. No shocker he was an American sex symbol.

He’d just fucked your brains out.

And now, he was staring at you with admiration, laid on his side, in the same bed he’d just railed you in. “You feelin’ okay?” He murmured, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah.” You rolled over to face him, a jolt of discomfort and pain in your hips and thighs. You might have to hold back on… doing anything for the next few days, however. “You didn’t break anything.” You joked, soft and breathy.

He chuckled quietly, hand sliding around your waist and dragging you closer to him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He whispered, uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

“To fuck me senseless?”

He smirked. “Mm, I have dreamt of that.” Your eyes narrowed in mild disgust at the image of him having wet dreams about you, swatting his chest. He grinned and caught your hand. “No… I meant how long I’ve waited to have you. You’re fuckin’ perfect. Not just your body. Everything about you is so sexy.”

Your brows furrowed, squeezing his hand, and then worming your fingers out of his. “What do you mean?” You asked softly.

He seemed to struggle for a moment. He wet his tongue with his lips, making your body tingle again. Jesus. “Let’s get dinner.”

What.

“Me and you.” Ben smiled, tracing the curves of your body with a featherlight touch. “Real fancy. I’ll pay.” Was he… asking you on a date right now? The Soldier Boy, asking you on a date? Instead of fucking you and tossing you out?

“You’re serious?” You asked softly, surprised. When he nodded, you grinned, biting your lip to contain it. “Okay, Ben. Let’s get dinner.”

His eyes lit up. Ducking his head down, his lips touched yours, gentle and affectionate. His kiss spoke so many words; his hands gently cradling your body, as he kissed you like you were made of glass. The touch was intimate and loving, widely different to the one he’d used when he’d been on top of you.

No, this was completely different. This was him being vulnerable. This was him showing you just how he felt, without the words.

He smiled against your lips and pulled back, just enough to speak, but his words were still brushing yours. “Yeah?” He whispered, in response to your agreement.

“Yeah.” You stared at him with big eyes.

He grinned, almost boyish in its nature. He stared at you in adoration, seeming to be collecting the words on the tip of his tongue.

You giggled under his stare. You sat up, pulling him with you, grabbing the blanket that he had draped over his headboard. It was fluffy and warm, and smelt like his cologne, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap it around your shoulders, cocooning yourself.

If possible, his gaze softened even more. “You’re adorable.”

Quietly, you laughed. “You sure you wanna do this, Ben?” You stared back at him. Ben was nothing if not a womaniser. Settling down was nothing like him. “Get serious with me, I mean.”

“You’re the only one I’d ever want to.”

Your brows pulled together, confused. “Why?”

Ben soothed a hand through your hair, green eyes drinking in the perfections and imperfections on your face. “You’re the only one I trust.” His voice was gravelly, still heavy with the effects of your recent endeavours. His hand travelled through your hair, and then came down to cup your cheek.

Wrapped up in his fluffy blanket, your head rested on the wooden headboard. “I trust you, too.” You whispered, tilting your head into his palm. His skin was rough, painted with callouses and scars. Every scar on his body had a story. And you’d spend the rest of your life learning every single one.

Despite himself, he smiled at you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “I’d kill for you. You know that?” His words made you shiver. Ben killing people wasn’t exactly new… or surprising. But doing it for you? God, it made your stomach heat up — and other parts. “These assholes don’t hold a candle to you, doll. Countess? That whore is— is repulsive compared to you.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Ben.” You scolded quietly, though not with an ounce of anger.

The supe just smirked, chuckling deep in his throat. “You want me to drop that bullshit PR relationship I have with her? I’ll do it. In a fucking heartbeat. I’ll be with you, publicly, if you want me.”

“You’d ruin your reputation for me?” Now that — that meant something. Ben could say anything and everything; he was a master manipulator. He could get anything he wanted with that smile and his suave words. But, if there was one thing he would always prioritise, it was his reputation. He’d do anything to be the alpha male. Anything.

“I’d do anything for you.” He grabbed your hand within his much larger one, guiding it to his chest. He pressed your palm over his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. “I’ll do anything for you, to be with you.” You felt the steady rhythm of his heart. He wasn’t lying. That, or he was a great fucking liar. “I’m never leaving your side. I’m yours.”

Your eyes searched deep within his. “Always?”

Ben smiled. “Always.” He leant forward, gently pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

Three months later, Soldier Boy died in a nuclear meltdown.

A/N: jesus christ this took me so long to write 😭 but i’m so happy with how this first chap turned out. it’s gonna get so much more fun to write we get to the action 👀 pls lmk if there’s any mistakes, as i will go back n fix them !!! hope you enjoyed <3

banners by @cafekitsune

TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “WORK DISTRACTIONS” ﾉ DR. RATIO. HONKAI STAR RAIL

gn reader ﾉ words 1.3k ᯽ a lazy day at home with veritas. very suggestive touches and flirting, but nothing explicit. established relationship. teasing, bantering, and playful dialogue. dr. ratio isn’t really mean in this one hehe :3 ᯽ SUGGESTIVE CONTENT ᯽

Dr. Ratio is deft with his hands, that much is certain. You saw him once navigating three touchscreens at the same time without a single error in the calculations. An invisible link (his nerves, obviously, as he would correct you) trained to follow his orders with unusual accuracy between his eyes flickering like molten gold and nimble nails tapping the acrylic glass.

That, and a maddeningly calm, emotionless face that held its breath along with yours until the screen flashed a message of success.

Now, the situation was not much different until a while ago, with you two sitting by his desk, this time with only one device on top of it.

With the dissipating memory, you wonder if you could be so lucky to be in his hands instead of the frames of his glasses, preferably unclothed. It’s not that you’re a vile creature that cannot live without being touched constantly, no. But with Veritas around, even the slightest possibility of making an excuse for that just gets you in the mood all too quickly.

Alas, he’s far too rational to do something like this in the middle of reading the new project, of course — you learnt this a long time ago when you confessed to him and he denied your affections for the sake of his work and your emotional health, that’s what he called it.

Oh, how wrong you two were back then, because now it feels like he wants to use all of your time together on teasing you to death.

Exactly. And this is what he’s doing now. Illogical.

“Busy?”

“As you can see.”

The text slowly scrolling through the screen is just a pretense; in reality, he’s merely reading it because he has nothing better to do while his other hand is moving nonstop on the top of your thigh. You’re leaning onto his arm, looking at the words passing by as if they could possibly give you an idea of what exactly this project is about. They’re all complicated, with no simple definition to assist you, and not even slightly related to your field of expertise.

It takes some time for you to decide what’s the best way to react.

“Hmm… Right, I see.” You wish you didn’t say anything at all, as your voice quivers, just like your muscles after the sudden vibration of his voice.

He’s quiet again, looking away from the monitor, but you don’t follow, keeping your eyes glued to the document.

Barely noticeable, the movement of his hand becomes firmer, but just as steady, and his fingers keep going up, inching closer to your crotch. You wouldn’t even dare to squirm, yet his touch merely passes by until it reaches the waistband of your pants; they’re loose, a part of your pyjama, which you didn’t feel like changing on a day at home.

Once more, the dexterous, veiny hand retreats and leaves the spot that wants it most alone, instead placing itself onto your knee and pulling it towards his own. This time, you bite your lip and grasp the fabric of your clothes, resisting the urge to close your legs.

“Is something troubling you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, taking his eyes off the screen just for a second to give you a gesture of recognition before returning to the text.

“Weren’t you the one saying that such questions should not be asked? Not when you already know the answer.” You mumble as you nuzzle into his shoulder, unknowingly responding to the inviting warmth of his body. He’s soft; not as much as you, but even so, it feels nice to know he’s relaxed.

His face changes very little as he frowns and lets out a huff of air. “True.”

It’s either this, or the fact that you can feel yourself getting aroused and impatient, that makes you bold enough to add another comment.

“You seem rather interested in my answer anyway, yes?” You hook your knee against his leg, almost moving it to touch him in return, but change your mind at the last moment. He’s still leaning against the back of his chair, barely shifting at all. “Could it be that you’re ignoring your own principles? Just for fun?”

Now, that sure is a silly question, and both of you know it. But then again, if there’s something Veritas hates, it’s giving in before he proves having a higher ground in a discussion.

His voice remains composed when he starts talking, but the sudden pang of being grabbed by the inner thigh gets you distracted enough to miss his words. You shake your head slightly to concentrate on the tone, slightly deeper than usual.

“It was hard not to notice you were getting bored and restive. You’re trembling.”

“But your hand—”

“You got too carried away and assumed I would give you more, didn’t you?”

“This is hardly the case!” You clench your fist, seeing him smirk ever so slightly. “You do know that, if I really wanted to, I could’ve already undressed you by now, and you wouldn’t have any complaints about it.”

“Not until I finished reading the project.”

“Liar. You were teasing me…” You cross your arms.

“You’re too easy to provoke, but yes, that is correct.” His hand leaves your thigh as he changes the angle of his arm to make it as a headrest behind your nape, at last shifting towards you instead of pretending that the device on the desk is far more interesting than your face.

At first, he doesn’t say anything, but soon after, he takes one of your hands, gently tracing the shape of your palm and fingers with his thumb. You hold your breath again, feeling almost grateful that he stopped his initial activity, because his current focus feels even more intimate, even if not nearly as seductive.

With your cheek pressed to his arm, you almost regret sitting on the other chair and not across his lap; the little distance enough to remind you that you cannot hug him properly.

“Not so focused on your project anymore, aren’t you? You aren’t even looking at the screen.”

“If not for your incessant pleas for attention, I wouldn’t have to take a break.”

“I thought you’re good with multitasking. Perhaps you have become rusty…” You hum back in a teasing tone.

He pauses for a moment, twitching slightly. “Do you really think so? What were you saying a moment ago about undressing me? And how is that grand mission going? Any progress on your side?”

“Oh, so you’re impatient, are you not?” You giggle. “I am not the one who took the first step, mind you.”

“Perhaps.” He takes a deep breath, letting go of your hand as he slowly leans closer. “What do you think, should we test how many of your clothes I can take off with one hand before you get so needy that you start begging me to stop playing?”

“We both know I don’t beg.”

He blinks at you, and this time, there’s an obvious smirk on his lips. “Not yet.”

The promise of what is to come makes your cheeks burn and heart skip a beat. However, instead of feeling too excited, you get flustered and irritated at the same time, too turned on by him to keep it together.

Obviously, this is just a mere tease, a few precise words to make you roll your eyes in annoyance (ignoring the butterflies fluttering in your stomach). It is not his usual manner of speech, but — which you have to admit in defeat — you’re truly one to give in to himself all too easily, even if your mind already wanders elsewhere.

With your faces nearly touching, iridescent shimmers from the window dancing somewhere in between, you two seem too preoccupied to notice the monitor entering a sleep mode. The screen goes dark.

[illbegottenfaith]

handwritten - theo nott x reader

yours and theo’s story as told through notes passed in class

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - came up with this quick idea to release some pent up creative energy while mulling over lucky pt 3. will prob make this an ongoing series for small ideas I can’t get fully fledged fics out of. easy to write, easy to read, enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a minor hinting at angst, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.5k

Monday, 10.07 am, Charms

Hey. You might want to pull your nose out of that disgusting textbook for once.

We’ve been over this. Just because you don’t understand something it doesn’t mean it’s disgusting. It’s very disrespectful.

What is disrespectful is you not paying attention to our year’s hottest new commodity - emphasis on the hot. I must say, he fills out that uniform quite nicely.

I’m sure he does.

C’mon, you’re not even a little bit curious? Just a peek?

Y/N? Hellooooooo? 

Oh my god. I know the guy.

???

What is he doing here? Last I heard he was being homeschooled.

Know him how??

We went to the same primary school. We were…friends.

Riiiight.

Don’t get any ideas. I haven’t seen him since I was ten. And he looked very, very different back then. Had a ratty sort of face. I can still kind of see it, actually.

Oh, Y/N, how could you say such awful things about his beautiful face! Oh dear, that bone structure…

Quiet, you. He’s really…grown. He’s so much taller now.

You know what you should do? You should offer to help him catch up.

On five years of school?

Oh, please, he was homeschooled. He had to have learnt some things. Who is he, anyway?

Theodore Nott.

Now that’s an Old Money name if I ever heard one.

Ivy. Be nice.

So? Is he? Old money, that is.

I…suppose so.

Are you sure you two were friends?

Yes. It’s been a while, that’s all. I just…wow. I can’t believe he’s here. Like, right there. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.

What happened?

He moved. I was starting at Hogwarts. We lost touch, it happens.

But now he’s back! Yay! Did you see those sinfully blue eyes of his?

Ivy, you have a boyfriend.

I know. Ivan agrees, by the way.

That he’s hot?

Yes.

He’s sitting on the other side of the room. When did you have time to discuss this??

Just now. Right in front of you. What did you think all that eyebrow-waggling was about?

I thought you were having a stroke. Merlin, the two of you are perfect for each other.

Don’t change the subject. He’s not gay, is he? Your friend? All the hot ones usually are.

I wouldn’t know, now, would I? I haven’t heard anything about him in years. Ivy, leave him alone. Please don’t harass the poor guy, sexually or otherwise. And quit it with the notes. He’ll notice.

How??? Has he got eyes on the back of his very nicely shaped head? He’s busy with Flitwick anyway.

Trust me, he’ll see. Nothing gets past Theodore Nott.

Monday, 2.15 pm, Potions

Well?????

Well, what?

The chat!!! Your chat!!!!!! With Mr. Theodore Nott!!!!!!!!

You have to quit it with the caffeine. You’re far too excitable after lunch.

The chat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was fine. It was…nice.

Uh-huh.

He goes by Theo now.

Okay. I’ll pretend I care about that.

It was all very casual, very superficial. It was really just us exchanging pleasantries. Oh, right. He asked me to accompany him to Quidditch tryouts.

You??? But you hate Quidditch.

I know.

Please tell me you didn’t say that.

I didn't. I just said I didn’t know much about it.

And?

He said that didn’t matter. He just wanted me there for moral support.

Then what was with all the turning red halfway through? You looked like you were going to combust.

Was it that obvious?

Ivan had some pumpkin juice ready, just in case.

It was nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. He called me his good luck charm.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You’re going to rip a hole through the parchment.

AWWWWW

So?? Did you say yes??

I said I’d think about it.

BOOOOOOOO

Come on, Vee. He’s been flying since before he could walk. He always talked about joining the big leagues, you know. He knows everything there is to know about Quidditch, so of course he’ll make the team. And it’ll have nothing to do with me.

But he doesn’t even have any friends yet :(

That’s because he hasn’t talked to anyone yet.

Y’know, Romilda Vane wanted to know why he was talking to you of all people.

What’s that supposed to mean??

Eh, you know. You can be a little…snippy.

I am NOT snippy.

There it is. The snippiness.

Whatever. It’s all so pointless. Come Thursday evening, he’ll have joined the Quidditch team and he’ll be hanging out with, y’know, those people, and we’ll be ancient history. He’ll make plenty of friends. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Okay. If you say so. Also, at lunch, I finally tried that thing you’re always talking about, “applying myself,” and I found this article on his dad in the library. From 6 years ago.

Don’t you want to know what the article said?

You could have mentioned he was a death eater, you know.

I don’t care about that, by the way. You used to be friends and that’s good enough for me. But, Y/N, he was arrested six years ago. And you haven’t talked to Theo in six years. But there isn’t any kind of connection between those, is there?

Y/N?

Do not make me throw this at you. I know how you feel about paper cuts.

Tuesday, 3.03 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Where’s your friend?

?

You know. Who you’re always passing notes with in class?

You noticed?

Hard not to. It makes you all fidgety and annoyed.

Yeah, well, Ivy’s an annoying person.

I’ll take your word for it. What do you have after this?

Transfiguration.

Wow. That’s one of the harder ones, isn’t it?

Er, depends on who you ask, I think.

Still brilliant as ever, then.

Shut up. I’m not half the swot I was in primary school. 

I never thought you were a swot. You were just…enthusiastic.

That’s sweet of you to say, Theo.

Huh. I thought I’d always be Teddy to you.

We’re not ten anymore, Theo. I can say your name perfectly now.

That’s good. So, have you thought about it?

Thought about what?

The Quidditch tryouts. You’re the only person I know here so you have to say yes.

I don’t know. Some of the girls look pretty interested in getting to know you.

What?

Nothing. I guess I could swing by for a short while.

That’s my girl.

Thursday, 8.37 pm, Common Room

SO?????

He got in. Obviously. Was there ever any doubt?

Did he run up to you? Did he hug you? Did he pick you up and spin you around???

Witch Weekly is a bad influence on you.

Details, please.

He hugged me. Kind of. Nearly tackled me, he was so excited.

you are SO his good luck charm!!!!!!

Friday, 11.17 am, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Witch Weekly?

It’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.

Right.

Really, I am. Ivy’s a fiend for these but she has this Charms test coming up that she absolutely cannot fail.

I believe you. ‘Top 6 Magical Contraceptives for the Modern Witch’ doesn’t sound like your kind of reading material.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was only having a little fun.

I’m not embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?

Erm, no, but you’re very red. Do you need to see the Healer?

I’m fine. It’s just hot. And no one calls Madam Pomfrey ‘the Healer,’ by the way.

Ah. I see.

Is there a point to all this? Did you need to ask something?

Oh, right. What are you up to on Saturday night?

Saturday? Dunno…wanted to take a crack at that Transfiguration essay.

Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Oh?

It’s nothing. A couple of the guys on the team wanted to celebrate with drinks at Hogsmeade. Everyone’s bringing someone, and I thought it would be nice if you came. Being my good luck charm, and all.

Oh, Theo, you probably don’t know this since you’re new and all, but going down to Hogsmeade is only permissible on certain weekends. And only start a couple of weeks into the term, so not yet.

Did you just -? Oh my god, you did. You laughed at me. You laughed at my note. Out loud. You’re lucky you’re in Slytherin, you know. Snape usually goes absolutely ballistic if anyone interrupts his lesson.

I’m sorry, I forgot what a stickler you were. I just - I didn’t think I’d miss it.

Please, Theo, forget the drinks. I cannot in good conscience stand by and let you break so many rules. You’ve been here less than a week!

Guess you’ll have to keep an eye on me. Make sure I stay out of trouble.

Exactly.

Great. See you Saturday at 8.

Part 2

[nosyp]

Unwilling Devotion

Chapter 1 - Unwelcomed Guests

Warnings = Kidnapping, dark

Pairing = Dark! Avengers x reader

Summary = You work as a barista for a cafe and Natasha and her friends would always visit. That was until one day, everything changed.

Word count = 2.6k words

A/N = First time attempting a series... pls be nice! Feedback is appreciated!!!

Last edited = 23 Dec 24

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Chapter 1 - The Unwelcomed Guests

Ring! 

The sound of the bell ringing alerted you and you immediately rose to attend to the new customer. 

“Uhm-! Hi! Welcome, what can I do for you?” you stammered, greeting the customer.

She didn’t respond and only stared at you, looking kind of taken aback but quickly composed herself and went back to examining the menu. 

You watched as she trailed her fingers through the menu looking for something of interest. The silence between you two was suffocating but she didn’t seem to mind. The awkwardness only stretched longer as you tried to keep a smile on your face while waiting for her. This happened often with new customers, and you never got used to it. 

‘Please say something, I’m dying here,’ you think to yourself, trying to keep yourself calm. Then you finally spoke up, “Ermm, we have a wide variety of flavours for our scones, so far the chocolate is the favorite amongst customers.”

Her gaze shifted to you and she perked an eyebrow. “Oh really?” she asks. “Well I’ll take that then,”

You let out a sigh of relief, ringing up her order and handing it to her with a forced smile, masking the tension that had been building from the awkward silence. Your eyes followed her beautiful red hair as she left. 

Now that you think of it, her outfit was kind of odd. She was wearing a tight black suit from her neck down. But you couldn’t lie, her figure was amazing so she’s probably just flaunting it. 

From that day, she’s visited daily, never missing a day. Sometimes she’d bring some of her friends while other times, she'd visit all alone. It was quite usual for customers to keep coming back but… this time felt weird. Most of the times when they’d return, you’d be glad to serve them but you dreaded whenever she came. Overtime, you learnt from her friends that her name was something along the lines of ‘Natalie’ or ‘Natasha’ or something like that

What made it even more concerning was the fact that sometimes she and some of her friends were covered in blood when they came in. You hadn’t dared to question it since their aura was quite intimidating already. The atmosphere shifted as soon as their foot stepped past the threshold. It could go from a calm and cozy atmosphere to an intense and heavy atmosphere, even the other customers felt it. They’d often ask you what was up with the group but all you could do was shrug in response.

The next few days felt the same. She came in every day, never saying much, always leaving you with that strange feeling of being watched. Sometimes she came alone, or other times she’d bring some of her friends. But no matter who she was with, there was always an intensity that followed her wherever she went, even into the small, cozy cafe.

Then, one night, the cafe was nearly empty. The wind outside howled, and the street lights flickered, casting odd shadows against the windows. You were cleaning up, getting ready to close when you heard the bell ring again. But this time, it was different. It wasn’t the usual polite silence that followed her arrival. There was something heavier in the air.

You turned, and there she was again, but this time, she wasn’t alone. Standing next to her was a man in a dark suit, you recognized him from the many ads you saw. You swore his name was…. Something stark? Whatever. And beside him… you recognized the others from her usual group. Each one of them was standing too still, too perfectly, almost as if they were waiting for something.

The woman, Natasha, didn’t say anything at first, but her gaze locked onto you immediately, her eyes dark and unreadable. It felt like she was seeing right through you.

"Late night for you, huh?" she said casually, walking toward the counter. "We’re not here for scones tonight."

Your heart started racing, but you forced yourself to smile, trying to maintain some normalcy despite the heavy feeling that seemed to seep into the walls of the café. "We’re almost closing, actually–"

Before you could finish, the man in the suit stepped forward. You didn’t know his name, but his presence alone was scary, his eyes looked cold and… calculating. "Actually, I think you’ll want to stay open for a little longer."

Your hands trembled as you went to the counter. Their arrival felt weird, like it was a trap that could catch you at any moment.

"Hello, how can I help you today?" you finally managed to ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Natasha smiled at you, her grin felt off though. "Actually," she said, voice lowering, "I think we can help you."

You felt your breath get stuck in your throat. Something wasn’t right. “E-excuse me? I’m not too sure what you mean by that…” you stammered, breath hitching. 

Her smile widened, and she leaned forward, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she rested her elbows on the counter. "Oh, sweetheart," she purred, her tone dripping with fake concern, "don’t play dumb now. You’re smarter than that, aren’t you?"

The man behind her shifted, his hands crossed in front of his chest, eyes never leaving you. The others fanned out, moving with the kind of deliberate grace that sent chills down your spine. One of them was a tall blonde-haired woman with sharp features. She began looking through the shelves behind you.

“Holy, you’ve got a lot of nice stuff here,” she whispered underneath her breath.

‘Run, lock the doors, do anything, something.’ you screamed at yourself internally."I-I think you have the wrong person," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. You felt so small in their gazes.

Natasha tilted her head, her smile fading into something more sinister. "Wrong person?" she repeated, as if testing the words. Her eyes had a hint of something, something dangerous. "You’re kinda cute when you’re nervous, you know that?"

The tension was suffocating now. The tall man then got closer, his boots creating a heavy thud with every step. "We’re not here to hurt you," he said, though his tone was anything but comforting. "Not unless you give us a reason to."

Your legs felt like jelly as you tried to step back, your back bumping against the huge, muscular man behind you. “Hey darling,” he whispers, making you flinch away from him. 

"I-I don’t understand. What do you want from me?" you ask. 

Natasha straightened, her expression softening just slightly, though it felt more like a predator playing with its prey. "Relax," she said, her voice almost soothing now. "We’re just... interested in you. Let’s call it professional curiosity."

"Professional?" you repeated, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

She grinned, then opened her mouth again. "Something like that. You’ve caught our attention, and trust me, that’s not very common. But you..." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You’re special."

You felt your heart skip a beat as her words processed in your head. "I—I’m just a girl working at a cafe," you said desperately. "There’s NOTHING special about me."

Natasha chuckled softly at your reaction. "Oh, honey," she said, her gaze locking onto yours, "you have no idea, do you?"

Before you could respond, the lights flickered, as if it was planned. Shadows were casted around the room and disappeared back into the darkness. You saw the group behind her exchange glances. You couldn’t tell what they were saying or signalling but you knew it was nothing good. 

Natasha’s smile faded entirely, replaced by a look of cold determination. "Close up," she said. From her tone, you could tell it was a demand that you couldn’t deny.

"What?"

"You heard me," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Lock the doors. Turn off the lights, do whatever you need to do. And then, we’ll have a little chat."

Every piece of your being screamed at you to say no, to run, to do anything but comply, but as her gaze bore into you which made you realise something chilling. You simply didn’t have a choice, all you could do was comply at this point.

Your fingers shuffled through the keys as you hesitated, glancing at Natasha and her group every once in a while. Each second felt like a long hour, so many pairs of eyes were on you. "I... I don’t understand," you murmured, your voice almost not clear enough.

Natasha tilted her head, her patience visibly wearing thin. "Lock. The. Door," she repeated, her words clipped but weirdly calm.

With trembling hands, you reached for the door, turning the lock with a click. The sound felt like a huge bell, reverberating through the silence of the cafe.

"Good," Natasha said, her smile returning. "Now, why don’t we all take a seat?"

She gestured toward one of the corner booths, but the invitation felt more like a command. You glanced at the clock on the wall, hoping for some sort of reprieve, but the hands seemed frozen, just like you.

The man in the dark suit’s voice suddenly broke the silence. "We can do this the easy way," he said with a slight threat in his words. "Or the hard way. Your choice."

“Why should I listen to you?” you spat out.

His eyes widened at your response. “You know you shouldn’t speak to us that way, we’re just here to save you,” he says. 

Save you? What does he mean by that?

“Calm down Tony, let them go at their own pace.” Natasha says.

Reluctantly, you moved toward the booth, your legs shaky as Natasha slid in across from you. The rest of the group remained standing, their eyes trained on you like hawks circling prey.

Natasha then folded her hands on the table, and her body leaned in. "So," she began, her tone almost conversational, "you’ve been working here for, what, six months? A year?"

"Eight months," you replied. Why were they asking about your job?

She nodded thoughtfully. "Eight months. That’s long enough to notice things. Patterns. People." Her eyes gleamed, and you had the unsettling feeling that this wasn’t small talk.

"I don’t-" you tried to say. 

"Save it," she interrupted, before she started again. "We’re not here to play games. Surprisingly… you’re actually in a position to help us. And… whether you like it or not, you’ve already seen too much."

"Excuse me? Seen too much?" your voice echoed, your confusion evident. "I don’t know what you’re talking about!" your voice rising. 

A dark-skinned man then stepped out of the shadows. "You’ve noticed us. Every time we’ve come in. You’ve seen us covered in blood. You’ve heard the whispers from the other customers. Don’t pretend you haven’t."

Your stomach churned as the memories flashed through your mind. Their glances, the blood stains on their clothes, the silenced voices that stopped as soon as you came close. You’d written it off as strange but took it as strictly out of your business. Well that was… until now.

"I didn’t say anything," you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. "I didn’t tell anyone!"

The cold, suffocating atmosphere of the café became unbearable. The group’s all had their gazes locked onto you, and gosh it was scary. 

“I-I need to grab something from the back,” you stammered, your finger pointing towards the kitchen. Natasha’s eyes followed your finger, then went back to you.

“Go ahead,” she said with a smirk, leaning back in the booth. “But don’t keep us waiting too long, sweetheart.”

Her voice was full with mockery, but you forced a smile. You nodded as you backed away and disappeared through the swinging door into the back. Your heart pounded like a drum in your ears, drowning out everything else.

You couldn’t stay. You can’t let them do this. Could you?

All of a sudden, in a moment of desperation, you grabbed your coat and bag from the staff locker, stuffing your trembling hands into the pockets. Your fingers brushed against your phone. You hurriedly pulled it out to call for help. 

But… when you turned it on, the signal was gone. Of course, after all these people are probably well trained criminals. They must’ve jammed the single somehow. A pit formed in your stomach, but you pushed forward. There had to be another way.

Your eyes darted to the back door. You still had the keys after all. If somehow you could just slip out quietly, maybe they wouldn’t even realize and you could just escape. BINGO! You’re a genius. Well you thought. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a low voice rumbled behind you, pausing all your thoughts of escaping.

You turned around to find one of Natasha’s friends, ‘Steve’ or something, you totally forgot his name but he was blonde, and tall. If you weren’t wrong you swore you saw two of them like that.

His huge frame was leaning in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed and a disgusting smirk plastered on his face. He was blocking your only exit back to the main room.

“J-just grabbing something,” you lied through your teeth, voice filled with fear.

He tilted his head, watching you in amusement. “Sure you are. And… you should know, she doesn’t like liars. And you shouldn’t test her.”

He took a step forward, and you took a step back. You didn’t even think about it. Your feet just moved, and you found yourself sprinting towards the back door as fast as you could. 

The cold outside air hit your face as soon as you shoved the door open, the alley behind the cafe called out to you. For a split second, you felt a rush of relief, as if you actually could escape. 

Then, you suddenly felt a grip on your arm. The grip got more intense as you tried to pry it off, slightly scraping him with your fingernails.

You screamed, and instinctively started squirming and kicking him. You tried to hit as hard as you could, but the grip was too strong. What is wrong with him? There’s no way he’s human. 

Your mind raced as you saw the blondie had caught up to you in an instant. His strength was overwhelming as he forced you back into the café.

“You’re feisty,” he muttered, almost amused. “But we can’t have you running off.”

“Let me go!” you cried, struggling uselessly against his grip.

By the time he dragged you back through the café, Natasha and the others were waiting by the front door. She sighed dramatically when she saw you, shaking her head as if disappointed.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” her voice interrupting the silence. “I was really hoping you’d cooperate, darling. But I guess things don’t always go our way.”

“Please,” you begged as tears streamed down your face while the tall man pushed you to your knees. “I don’t know anything! Just let me go!”

Natasha crouched down, her hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you were forced to meet her eyes. You could swear they were the eyes of the devil. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said, her voice soft but menacing. “Not until we’re done with you.”

Then you blacked out. Consciousness leaving your being. 

[copinghex]

Under his wings | T.S

Summary: The peculiar details of your relationship are nothing but small inconveniences compared to how much Tommy loves you | dark!AU

If there's something you admire the most about Tommy, it's his eyes, they're blue like the sky, deep as the ocean and they're never, ever bright. Something about being under his gaze felt warm in the best ways, you felt protected, desired and cared for, a fact you once voiced while he slowly thrust into you. 

"I like when you look at me like that," you confessed and bit your lip, a little shy for not being able to look away. 

"Like what?" 

"Like- like you own me," 

"I do own you," was his answer before he sped up his pace. 

Although you like to be under Tommy's gaze, sometimes it makes you shy, scared even. You don't want to disappoint him, nor to make him embarrassed for having you around, after all, he's so handsome, smart and cunning, and what are you? 

No, Tommy doesn't like when you think low of yourself, you're his sweetheart, his doll, his pretty girl, but… 

"Pretty girls don't go out alone to behave like whores," "My doll does she's fucking told and doesn't get whiny about it, ain't that right?" "You're my sweetheart when you smile and cheer up, I’m not sure if I like this pout." 

He's probably right most of the time, you don't get any reasons to throw tantrums, everything you want, he will give you, jewels, shoes, flowers, himself, "Tell me what you need, love." he always says. 

Tommy never denies you any material goods, himself though, it's a privilege he sometimes takes away. His answer to minor infringements, such as smiling too much to another man, disappearing from his sight in public or being an unmannerly brat in events, is loneliness. 

A couple of times you've been treated like an object of the house, the furniture Tommy walked by barely noticing, he knows you learnt your lesson when you're on the verge of tears. 

"Don't ignore me anymore, please," you pleaded, on your knees at the side of his office chair. 

He looked at you when was done with his cigarette. 

"You know why you're there, love?" he held your chin and you nodded. 

"I made you worried at the fundraising, I went outside to take an air, I- I didn't even go alone, Polly was with me," 

"But?" he arched his eyebrows, ready to go along with the punishment if you gave the wrong answer. 

"But I should have warned you, I'm sorry, Tom," you held his hand on your face, "I'm so sorry," 

"Come here, my doll," he pulled you to his lap with a pleased face. 

After punishment, you always have Tommy all to yourself. It's hard to endure, surely, but it's for your betterment, everything Tommy does is, you had no doubt of that. 

Or at least, perhaps, not until this moment.

"Did you hear what I said?" his eyes switch between you and the young, new driver hired two weeks ago. 

"P-please, Tommy, he was just being nice," you sob at the boy's awful state. 

"Go back inside." he drawles and pulls a gun out of his coat, "You're not allowed in the garden without my permission anymore," 

"But-" 

With only a look, he silents you. On the short way home, tears fall on the grass. The second you close the heavy doors behind your back, you hear a gunshot outside.

[amymbona]

First time writing an ask kinda nervous….. imagine you went to the tennis academy with ArtPatrick and they never really noticed you, not really on their radar but you end up going to Stanford and befriended Tashi and they are just whipped for you idk what else to add IM SO NERVOUS

Yes yes yes that's so cute! The boys being completely smitten with reader 🥹🥹🥹 I could make a series from this cause this one's a bit short (I've no inspiration😔). Let's pretend that in this neither of the boys study at Stanford and Patrick isn't dating Tashi.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

To begin the story simply, tennis is the main focus of your life. Or at least used to be, until you hit puberty. With hormones running through your body, up and down from head to toe, and your periods happening each month, you started noticing significant changes not only in your physique but your mentality too. Suddenly, boys were all you think about.

While slowly building your teenage career and attending the academy, you kept your eyes on boys around you, subconsciously searching for a partner. And you considered yourself pretty normal. Not many thoughts about sex, at least not the hardcore version of it, just hoping for a nice monogamous relationship with a guy who'd love and support you unconditionally. Until you met Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson.

Aside from your crush on Brad Pitt as Achilles, you were never really smitten with boys before, so your poor brain froze the moment you entered the court and a mix of two muscular - for their age - moans reached your ears. There they were. The brunet one was taller, a mess of curly hair sticking to his forehead, and he was a bit more expressive too. Most of the groans were from his mouth, face grimacing as he chased the ball, limbs long. Next to him, on the court, was a guy who's blond hair was hidden under a cap, but you caught a glimpse of his big nose. This one, was a bit more muscular, eyes creased in concentration.

It's safe to say that you became obsessed with them, figuring out their schedule to be on the court exactly at the same time. It wasn't really your thing before, but you began tucking your skirts a bit higher so they could possibly catch a glimpse of your ass, and make sure to groan loud enough when you hit the ball. Every so often, your eyes would trail towards the two, eager to see if they are watching you, only to end up disappointed if you find them immersed in a deep conversation.

It shattered your poor teenage ego, especially when you decided to greet them - reminding yourself that tennis players all know one another so it won't be that awkward - only to end up with a light wave from Art in response. Honestly, you were devastated.

Now, one year into Stanford, you've managed to successfully push the two towards the most dark depths of your mind, focusing back on tennis. You are grateful to have befriended a fellow player - Tashi Duncan - who has become something close to a best friend. You hadn't really heard of her before, perhaps once or twice on the sport's channel news, but she has proven as an incredibly complex person. For her age, she is far above average, dominating every match, but her soul is delicate enough to flow in sync with yours.

The two of you are dorm mates, spend a lot of time together and have found much needed calmness in the presence of one another, a friendship one could really ask for. Doing the talk, you've learnt about Tashi's family, hobbies and friends - two of which, she has mentioned, were named Art and Patrick. Rings a bell?

And definitely rings a bell, if not even slaps you across the face, when you come back to your dorm after practice, eager for a shower and a good afternoon's rest, only to find two boys occupying your two beds. And Tashi's nowhere.

"Oh, hi," the blond guy is the first to break the awkward silence, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. "We didn't know you were coming. We, um- we're waiting here for Tashi."

You nod, eyes trailing between the two boys, each of them gazing you up and down. And suddenly, you become too aware of your attire - a really mini *mini* skirt and a light sports bra, your top stuffed somewhere in your sports bag that you've dropped by the door - and it's easy to see the boys aren't trying to hide their excitement.

"Well, she's still at practice so..." you mutter, crossing arms over your chest to somehow hide whatever the boys are looking at.

"Should we go?" Art proposes, finger pointing at the door.

"No, no, you can wait here. I'm just gonna shower so I can't really entertain you." you offer the boys a small smile and quickly fish some clothes out of the wardrobe and disappear in the bathroom.

The boys exchange a glance, mouths parted and eyes wide. Damn. It's been a long time since they've seen a girl this pretty! Your flushed cheeks and plump lips are all engraved in their minds, the sight of you in so little clothes hard to erase. God, your cleavage was so full, almost spilling out of that bra, that Patrick desperately wished the fabric would magically burst and he's ve granted with the clear view of your tits.

You reenter the dorm in a fresh set of clothes, combed hair flowing down your back and the boys' eyes are on you again, small, playful smirks on their faces. You try to ignore the butterflies in your tummy and the way your voice threatens to quiver as you approach your own bed, currently occupied by Patrick.

"Do you mind?"

"No, no, enough space for both of us," he replies nonchalantly, patting the space next to him, but that smug smile on his face is hard to miss.

Your eyes roll, arms crossing. He knows damn well that's not what you meant. "Just move."

Patrick grins, raising his arms in mock defense and reluctantly pushes up from his spot only when Art commands him with a soft c'mon Pat, allowing you to plop down.

For a long while, now both settled on Tashi's bed, the boys study you, taking notice of the way your sweater clings to your skin, the way your bare feet tap against the floor nervously and how you're trying to look all calm and indifferent, picking up a random book from the nightstand to demonstrate so. But Patrick breaks the silence.

"So, who're you?"

The question surprises you and perhaps hurts a bit, as you realise the boys have completely forgotten your face, despite seeing it for years in the academy. Perhaps you hoped they would remember you.

"Tashi's roommate... Y/N." you add when they raise a brow.

"Y/N." the name rolls off of Art's tongue sweetly as he repeats it. He likes how it sounds, it's simple but very flirting, as if your face was meant to hold such a name.

Patrick, meanwhile, imagines himself screaming that name. Not only that, his mind is filled with various scenarios where you are the main character.

The boys introduce themselves, not that it's needed for you, and for a moment, you're almost tempted to remind them that you actually know each other. "Yeah, I know you."

"You do?" Patrick asks, raising a brow, almost too excited.

Fuck. But you can't just tell them how much of a crush you had on both of the boys back in the academy, how many days and nights you spent thinking about them, imagining that'd be thinking about you too, imagining all the possible moments you three could have spent together.

"Um, yeah, from the... From Tashi." you stumble over your words. "She's mentioned you before a couple of times."

The boys nod, looking you all over, examining every single of your tiny mannerisms that are on display, the way you nervously scratch the back of your neck and chew onto your lower lip. Fuck. You're so cute in their eyes, they could watch you forever.

A slightly awkward silence settles over the room, and the more intense their gazes become, the more nervous you are. God damn, where the hell is Tashi when you need her the most? If you'll be forced to stay alone with Art and Patrick for one more minute, you're probably gonna go crazy and say something incredibly stupid or just jump in one of their laps and begin kissing them.

Like a miracle, a much needed knight in shining armor, Tashi shows up. She greets her friends, introduces you three once again before finally taking the boys out. Like they're on a leash, the boys follow her without a single protest, but before they leave the dorm, two sly smirks are shot in your direction. What you don't hear, after the door closes, is the boys smothering Tashi in questions about you.

[danihow]

Love hurts

Han Seojun x producer!Reader True Beauty

Summary: Falling in love with someone who doesn´'t loves you suck, but it sucks more watching them hurt.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: unrequited love, han seojun is in love with jukyung, bad written, not proofread, angst.

A/N: i needed to do this to get this man out of my mind, my god why is he so perfect and so unreal.

You never thought love could hurt, not when it was such a beautiful feeling.

Working as a producer has been your dream all high school, being scouted by a Move Entertainment agent as a freshly graduated person was probably the biggest blessing you've ever received in the last 5 years.

You still remember your first day at the company as an apprentice of the bigger producers, sitting at the back of their studio in the couch and watching them come up with ideas, lead the idols and modifying simple sound onto a whole ass song.

Your heart felt so full of emotions that day you swore you could've cried from happiness even thought you were mistreated by other staff, you remember vividly how your face hurt from smiling on the way home.

Your shoes clacking against the tiled floor echoed through the empty halls of the huge building, it still amuses you to this day the was the floor never seemed to get dirty, always reflecting as if it was a mirror.

However, even if you could spot everything on the floor you still missed the person you were walking into, your head colliding against his tall back, startling out of your mind.

"Yah!" A man's voice flooded your ears before your eyes looked up to who you have crashed into, locking with brown foxlike eyes. "How do you manage to bump into the only other person in the floor?" He says, looking into you intently.

He was the prettiest man you've ever met, and even that was an understatement. The way his eyes complemented the rest of his face, his dark hair in a mullet giving him a mysterious and cool vibe that was just highlighted by his all-black outfit. It was probably the most memorable thing about that day.

"I'm sorry." You mutter, bowing a bit and smiling apologetically.

"It's okay, just look where you're going." He tells you in something between a reprimand and some advice, between polite and cocky. "You're a producer?" He asks, more for him than for you as he spots your producer badge hanging from your neck.

"Oh, yeah, I started today. I'm L/N Y/N." You smile politely at him, who nodded and gave you a weird smile back.

"Nice to meet you L/N Y/N, name's Han Seojun." He said before he continued walking, a small greeting bow before looking away. "Have a good night."

As the weeks rolled by you learnt from your superior that Han Seojun has a new trainee and was already relatively famous as it was too. Your encounter with the boy becoming more and more frequent the more he started practicing and the more you advanced as a producer. The two of you becoming close work friends rather quickly.

As the months turned into years and the level of comfort grew between the two of you the more your feeling for him surpassed the limit of friends, his laugh enticing a newfound warmth in your chest anytime you heard it, his eyes appearing in your daydreaming more and more often. Everything about him changing in your eyes to something else. Nonetheless, as your feeling for him grew with your friendship so did the secrets you knew from each other.

Even though you like him a lot you knew very well how much he liked Lim Jukyung, and you couldn't get mad at it, she has been in his live for far longer than you and is just and angel to be around; if anything you would've fallen in love with her too if you were Seojun.

"Y/Nie, you have done more than enough with those tracks, go home." Your superior mentioned as he walked in the studio, passing you a bottle of water and sitting by your side.

"Something is missing..." you mutter, your back aching from sitting in the same chair for so many consecutive hours, mouse scrolling through the track in the monitor for the nth time in the past half hour.

"You can review it tomorrow, go and rest." He said once again, pulling you away from the computer, your hands stretching as far as they could to keep on working until you were out of reach. His hand grabbing the mouse and saving the track. "Go." His voice was stern but with a hint of fondness, a soft smile on his face as you oblige.

Grabbing you bag and saying your goodbyes you walked out of the studio, opting for using the stairs as your exercise for the day. Eight flight of stairs you were kind of regretting your choice, but you were no quitter, so you kept going. "God my back's killing me." You whisper for yourself as your rub your neck tiredly, putting your coat on until a sound picked up your attention.

Instantly your mind went back to that one-time Jukyung playfully told you she heard from her sister that there was a ghost around the building, seemingly having been haunted herself a few times. "Aigoo..." You mutter, freezing in place as your ears try to pick up the sound again; a few seconds pass and you hear it again, however it seemed to be a sob.

Concerned and a bit less scared you kept on walking down, careful to not disturb whoever it was that cried silently. A few floors down you were met with the figure of a man, sat down in the stairs as his body shook painfully as he cried, his soft sobs flooding your ears and you wished to all the heavens above you were mistaking the silhouette with someone else.

Please, don't be him.

You took a few steps down, the closer you got the clearer he became before your tired eyes. "Seojun?" You asked in a whisper, close enough to crouch down and place your hand on his shoulder.

It shouldn't hurt so much to see the way he flinched at both your voice and your touch, his hand flying to push yours off as his face refused to turn towards you.

With a sigh you sat down beside him, not a word leaving your mouth as you looked ahead of you, giving him the time to do whatever he wanted with his appearance before you looked at him, letting him know you are not forcing anything out of him but instead offering him your company.

A few seconds passed by, maybe a whole minute before he kept on crying, hand trying so hard to muffle his voice as his tears never stopped flowing down his cheeks. Slowly you turned to look at him, taking the time to take in his appearance before sighing again. It hurt a lot to see him so broken.

"It's okay to cry it out, don't silence yourself." You whispered softly, hand slowly reaching for his and taking it off his mouth, a sob immediately following after. "I can leave if you want me to." You said, giving him a few seconds to react, taking his silence and lack of eye contact as a sign and stood up.

"Wait.... don't go," he said in a choked voice, hand flying to grab your wrist, eyes finally looking up at you between his tears. "Please."

"You don't have to ask me twice." You say, a soft and sad smile on your face as your crouched down in front of him between his knees, hands resting now on top of his cheeks and brushing away his tears. "You wanna talk about it or just exist for a while?"

Your tone was so sweet and full of patience he just felt like crying again, sniffing he kept silent, eyes roaming through your face and not once finding your company insincere. "I let her go." He whispers back, his eyes appearing as an open book for you to read, his mouth pouting and his eyes tearing again. "It hurts."

"I know it hurts, and it hurt to love her too, didn't it?" You ask, brushing a few stray hairs off his face and behind his ears, a mannerism you took upon on as his hair grew between haircuts. "I'm so sorry."

"Why does it hurt so much?" He said while desperately looking into your eyes for an explanation, his own hand clutching his chest as if trying to take his heart out. "Why do I had to love her out of everyone?"

He sounded so broken, so exhausted of his feelings it made you teary too, a burning sensation starting at your throat threatening to choke your upcoming words.

"You don't choose who to love, just how she didn't choose not to love you." You mutter, blinking away the stinging in your eyes. "It's part of life as much as it sucks." You whisper, shuffling in your feet that hurt from crouching for so long. "Love hurts, it's dumb how much loving can hurt when it's such a beautiful feeling, huh?" You can't help but chuckle at your own words, how ironic.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles after a while, his hands brushing off the last of his tears as he has now calmed down a lot more, you still crouching in front of him, never once taking your attention away.

"Don't apologize for being human." With a smile your hands sneak up to grab his and stand up, pulling him with you. "Come on, let's go and get some air. away from this creepy stairway." With one of your hands you clean his face of, not wanting anyone to see he was crying as your other hand never loosens around his.

As you walked down the stairs with him trailing behind you Seojun couldn't help but notice how secure your hand held his and how your presence soothes him, a small grateful smile on his face.

"Thank you, Y/N." He mutters as you drag him along, not once yapping or complaining of this ruining his tough image as he would've done every other day.

"That's what friends are for." You smile at him over your shoulder, because even if Han Seojun doesn't love you back, love hurts and it's part of life.

[shysuccubusstuff]

succubus! reader x lads men pt. 1

Content: It’s your final exam as a new succubus, and of course they chose the hardest objective for their “favourite” student, will you be able to deal with them? or will you end up becoming the one under them?

Note: Non-proofreader, as always.

Word count: 2137.

Zayne:

Content: Restraints, magic, usage of aphrodisiacs (succbus magic), hunter and prey dynamics, brat tamer! Zayne, slight breeding kink, dubcon.

In order to get closer to your objective, you decided to disguise yourself as one of the many doctors around his work, always acting all smiley and happy while you tried to get closer to him. Always getting a bit too close to him (just enough for him to shudder, not enough to make him uncomfortable), bringing him his coffee to his own office and eating with him each day he was able, finally getting him to lower his walls to you.

Your chance finally arrived after Dr Zayne got sick after spending several nights overworking himself, so of course you had to bring him something to feel nice, right? With that set-in mind, you arrived to his doorstep, having a bag filled of medicines on one hand and the other with some warm food you had bought on the way there. Almost everything fell to the floor when the door finally opened, with Zayne half naked, a flimsy towel surrounding his hips, his face quite flushed and his hair slightly close to his face, framing his gorgeous face and making him look just a bit too handsome. You struggled for a second, trying to find the correct words and avoiding at any cost that unprepared words left your mouth. “Good afternoon, Dr Zayne. I heard that you were sick so I just had to bring something for you.” Zayne stood there, almost confused while his gaze fixed on your face, quietly moving to the side as he tried his best no to fall, needing your help despite how much he complained about it. Then, it took your around ten minutes to get him to go back to bed, and another ten minutes passed until you were finally able to prepare his meal of the day, including having to double check that all the medicines were correct for him.

Zayne was finally able to recover from the illness after two nights, having you changing his wet towel several times during the night, letting him some fresh water when he needed (of course, having to fight the great urge of giving him said water with your own mouth). After he finally woke up in the morning, his fever was completely gone, leaving him with a slight cough from time to time. Now that he was no longer sick, it was finally the time in which you could actually begin applying everything you had learned until then. Your little plan started by keeping close contact with him, caressing his face as if you were trying to be sure that he had no fever, then, you stayed there, cooking him a homemade meal for him (good thing you learnt before going to his house). It was finally your time to act when night arrived, with Zayne was far too soft with you, letting you run your fingers all through his body, even despite his slightly flushed ears.

“…Aren’t you being far too stubborn?” He said that with his voice deeper than usual, even despite he said that, his hands didn’t move a bit from where they were, letting you touch his chest as much as you wanted. You took advantage of that, of course, pushing him against the sofa and getting on top of him. He was unable to respond, as you quickly closed the distance between both of you, beginning a deep kiss that he responded fiercely. Just a few seconds after that, Zayne's eyes turned hazy, his gaze much darker than usual. His green eyes scanned your whole figure, now having turned into your real form, with your little tail moving around and your horns sticking out from your head, almost making you feel as if you were about to be devoured. You ignored the strange feeling of having turned into the prey, so you teased him.

"Oh... Dr Zayne is unable to do anything about it, would be such a shame if I like...did some nasty stuff with his body, right~?" Zayne's eyebrows twitched for a moment, being unable to move much because of your succubus magic. You took advantage of that, getting rid of his buttoned up shirt, playing with the last buttons as you felt his erected member rubbing against the curve of your ass, lowering your lower body just enough for you to rub harder against his still clothed body, making him bite his lip as he tried to restrain himself.

" Uh... Are you trying to play hard to get, Dr Zayne~?" You laughed, playing with his soft pink nipples and rubbing against him, kissing his lips while playing with his tongue, filling the room with the wet noises of your kiss.

"Such a shame that the great doctor is unable to do anything, right~?"

Your victorious smirk left your body with a single blow, as your ego played you a bad joke when the magic weakened, allowing Zayne to change your positions swiftly. Before you were able to do anything, his stronger body was on top of you, kissing your pretty mouth and sucking on your tongue while his hands ran around your body, caressing the soft and warm flesh while he rubbed his hard-on against your clothed cunt.

"Guess the tables have turned..."

Zayne's voice resounded in your ear, making your body jolt as his hands kept you under him, making just enough pressure on your wrists to forbid you from moving an inch.

"Come on, doctor, don't be mean... I can like, totally hurt you, you know?"

You bluffed, trying to make him lower his stance for a second. Sadly, this was to no avail, as he used his evol to keep you there, getting rid of the little clothes that kept your nipples hidden. He lifted you up, getting you on top of him, your back supported by his chest, while he used his legs to keep yours parted.

"Let's see how well you handle your little... methods." As soon as he said that, Zayne's hands started to move towards your chest, playing with your nipples without much force, only twisting them a little, putting a bit more force when he saw you biting your lip. Of course, you just had to taunt him, how could a mere human try to torture a succubus with pleasure?

"Are you like, trying to make me fall asleep or something?" You let a confident smirk after saying that, of course you could endure a little teasing from a human with not much experience... right?

Before you were able to notice, Zayne had already removed all your clothes, leaving your naked body at his mercy. His lips kissed the soft curve of your neck, while his hands were too busy playing with his body, one hand was playing with your nipples, while the other one was caressing your cunt, playing with the bud of nerves despite how much you cried, trying to get him to lower the speed of his fingers, this torture lasted for over half an hour, sometimes switching the position, letting you face him, kissing his lips while his fingers were inside you, crying as he hit pleasurable places and making your eyes roll to your skull.

Zayne smiled devilishly, as he felt how you kept grinding against his groin, wetting that area while fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Please... I need cock, you've teased me enough, I'm so hungry... pretty please." Your words left your mouth in the form a babble, although Zayne was able to understand each word, the confidence and superiority making him feel a bit too good for his own good. I mean, how could he not feel proud of the state he had left you, from a little teasing brat to an absolute mess, making you cum over seven times with just his hand, making you cry while you came, saliva running down your mouth. You tried to get him to comply, giving him doe eyes as you attempted to get rid of his trousers, getting angry as you failed to unbutton his pants. Laughing, Zayne took your hands away, taking off his own trousers, leaving them over the sofa. You wasted no time, quickly getting rid of his underwear, taking his length on your mouth and sucking him off, lewd noises filling the room. Zayne’s lips parted, soft moans leaving his mouth, his hands playing with your soft hair, trying as hard as possible to not push further, forcing the tip of his dick against the back of your throat. Lucky for him, you didn’t hesitate to do just that, forcing the tip of his cock against your throat, sucking on the tip, enjoying his expressions of him being lost in the pleasure, only causing his grip on your hair to strengthen. “God…” Zayne muttered, letting a breathy whimper escape, despite he was trying hard not to let any of those embarrassing sounds out. You kept pumping his length, stopping your movements just as he was about to release. Despite that, he had no time to complain, as you swiftly got on top of him, carefully accommodating his length with your warm cunt, taking inch by inch, the stretch making you almost let out a cry of pleasure. Zayne kept his hands on your hips, caressing your soft skin as he tried his best not to push your weight down. “Now this is how it’s supposed to go, humans are such weaklings, you were just lucky before.” Well, of course you just had to push your luck once again. Annoyed, Zayne decided to punish you, pushing your weight down his shaft, moving your whole body just as if you were just some little toy for him to use. He refused to stop, giving you a cocky smile as you soon started to lose yourself in the pleasure, once again crying while you tried your best as to not cum on the spot, your hands trying to support your own weight on his lower abdomen, this was used to his advantage, as he swiftly changed your positions, being on top of you once again. He even had the nerve of using your wrists as some kind of handles, forcing his cock in and out of your sorry cunt, hearing your soft mewls and pleas fill the whole room. “Stop…you’re gonna mess up my womb, you can’t just keep going at it like this! I’m gonna get pregnant!” This was a lame excuse, in fact, the greater issue for you was getting your succubus mark linked with him, I mean, you were a brand-new succubus! How could you get your passing grade if you came back linked with your first real meal?! This warning only seemed to get him even more fired up, as his thrusts started to get even deeper, hitting that sensitive place while he kept kissing your lips, carefully caressing your hair as he kept thrusting into you, soft whispers leaking from his lips: “Oh… You’re taking me so well… You feel so good, dear… Keep cumming, just like that…” His sweet words causing your body to feel even warmer, almost as if you were completely melting just from his touch.

Despite how much you whined, Zayne’s thrusts didn’t even slow down, making sure to have your whole figure under his weight, making your brain feel all fuzzy, vision blurry from the fat tears as a result of the overstimulation that were running down your cheeks. “I’m going to cum, take it for me yeah?” Zayne warned you, soon feeling his length flinch, the rhythm of the thrusts slowing down as his cum started to fill your womb, the only sound left was the heavy breathing of both of you. You took advantage of the situation, trying your best to escape, I mean, take an intelligent retreat, but of course, nothing was going in your favour, as Zayne’s arms wrapped promptly around you, letting you sit on his lap as he kept his length inside of you, the succubus mark appearing on your lower stomach as your body seemed to gladly accept his seed, the warmth of it causing you to let out a soft whimper as you tried your best not to cry from the frustration, you would become the laughing stock for a couple of centuries... “Let’s stay like this for a moment… We still have a long time before the sun rises, dear, but it is important to take some rest before we keep going.” Zayne said that, his arms squeezing you just to the point of making you feel as if you were completely safe there, you bit your lip, you had to be one dumb succubus to go and fall in love with your first prey, at least it seemed that he didn’t have any plan of letting you go, not now and probably not anytime soon.  

©2024 shysuccubusstuff do not repost, copy, translate, or modify.

[lazycats-stuff]

hi I love your posts and I wanted to ask if you could do batfamily x newest batbro who was created to be a weapon and when bruce saves him and makes him have a childhood he couldn't make choices like the demon slayer kanao please

Hi! I'm glad you like my posts. I would like to state that I have never watched Demon Slayer, but I went on Demon Slayer wiki to get some info, so if there are some incorrect details, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) never had a choice. Bruce decides to change that.

Warnings: pure abuse, (Y/N) is a weapon for his father, Bruce and the boys are giving (Y/N) a new childhood, (Y/N) is slowly getting accustomed to his new life, (Y/N) trying new things...

In life, you often don't have a choice where you end up and who your parents are. You often don't have a choice. (Y/N) didn't have a choice. A life full of violence and overall dear and submission. Even the slightest sound of fear or pain could get you in trouble.

He has been training with the others ever since he could remember. As far as he knew, he was in a program that created weapons. Human weapons to be more precise. The program's enemy?

The Justice League.

He is the only survivor of the program's regime and training. There were kids with him too, but they were just weak. (Y/N) remembered one morning where they were all blue and just cold to the touch. (Y/N) had no reaction to it.

Why would he?

And reaction will get him beaten and maybe drowned as a form of punishment. Well, not a maybe, it's a sure for drowning. (Y/N) often thought to himself that they had a list full of punishments. He wouldn't be surprised.

He rarely got punished, because he has learnt what will happen when he decided to fight back. He shuddered every time he has remembered the punishment he got the first time he tried to fight back.

It's better if he doesn't remember.

That punishment broke him. Whatever he was before that punishment, he wasn't anymore. He became a shell of himself, allowing them to break him in and build him back up again, just like they all wanted.

Who was behind the project, he didn't know. But did it matter anyway? He is going to stay in the program for the rest of his life or rather until he is alive.

There was time when he thought he was going to die. Oddly enough, he didn't hope to die that day. (Y/N) never thought about killing himself.

They broke his spirit and soul and yet again put him back together.

Now that was something that only truly bad people can do. (Y/N) accepted it. He couldn't do anything else, could he? If he escaped they would have tracked him down and he would be dead for sure. (Y/N) accepted his fate, not knowing that the Justice League caught wind of this program and were ready to just take them all down.

On a mission gone wrong (Y/N) was caught by Batman and for the first time ever, (Y/N) became afraid. He didn't show any type fear, but deep down he wanted to hide.

He heard stories about Batman and how he works. Not to mention his kids... Especially Robin. (Y/N) knew who Ra's al Ghul was and how ruthless his assassins are. Robin is no different.

(Y/N) remembers waking up in a cell, a warm blanket over him. He doesn't remember having a blanket back in the program. A sheet would be pure mercy and some sort of heating?

A pure miracle.

(Y/N) remembers sitting up, confused as to why his enemies are treating him better than his own handlers. But that could be a ploy to get him to talk. Instead of torturing, he would get treated nicely.

Not happening.

(Y/N) rubbed his eyes as he stood up, moving closer to the glass panels. Well, they seemed like glass, but they are strong. (Y/N) looked for a way out, but had none.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he sat back down. Oh this is just great. There is no way out and he is going to get tortured. He closed his eyes as he mentally prepared himself.

He opened them when he heard somebody coming. It was Batman himself, standing in all of his glory.

" I'm not going to talk. " (Y/N) declared and Batman simply took a chair and sat down.

" You don't have to (Y/N). I have all the information that I need my other heroes are going after the person running it. In a few hours the program will be gone and forgotten in history. " Batman declared and (Y/N) was shocked to say the least.

" What? " (Y/N) asked as he couldn't contain his surprise.

" Yes. Soon enough no one will remember the program. After knowing what they do to children, I am more than satisfied. Now there is a question as to what to do with you. " Batman said and (Y/N)'s interest got peaked.

What is that supposed to mean?

" You won't be able to function if you are let in the real life. Now, the other course of action is for you to live with someone. I have decided to take you in. " Batman said and (Y/N) was shocked.

" No. " (Y/N) said quickly. Not happening.

" Yes. You will have to stay here for a few more days until a few things are clarified and set. " Batman said as he stood up. (Y/N) watched him leave.

Oh God.

(Y/N) had to sit back down. He really did. The program will be dead in just a few hours...

Is this what freedom tastes and feels like?

And to stay with Batman, one of the people who made the League, his enemy... (Y/N) shook his head as he laid down. This few minutes are a rollercoaster of emotions and it's just something that (Y/N) didn't feel in a very long time.

(Y/N) is usually a few steps ahead of his targets and there was nothing that could surprise him. But now? He wasn't in control anymore, not that he was anyway, but when he was in the field, he had a certain degree of control.

Now he was stripped from any type of control and any sense of comfort was gone. Having control, a little degree, was comforting enough to (Y/N).

But now, everything was gone. The life he knew was gone.

(Y/N) came to live in the manor a few days later, the boys knowing exactly who he was and what has happened with him. Bruce told them to be nice and tone down everything until he got comfortable. Alfred agreed, knowing that (Y/N) had to be afraid of the change.

Now, Bruce and Alfred had agreed on one thing. And that was something called a choice. Alfred and Bruce gave him his first choice when he was allowed to choose his room. (Y/N) was confused as to how he could choose.

It's just a room, why would it matter? Although, (Y/N) did choose in the end a view with the front of the house. The reason was of strategic reasons, (Y/N) has said and Bruce and Alfred are just fine with that.

It's a step in the right direction.

Jason came by a little bit later, helping him choose some of Jason's old clothing. That was a temporary solution. When (Y/N) slowly got accustomed to the new life, they would go to buy some more clothes.

(Y/N) was slowly slow in picking, but Jason didn't mind. He waited patiently, even offering some of his own advice. Which color is good for his eyes, what would be comfortable to wear around the house... Everything he could think off.

(Y/N) was still suspicious and didn't trust anyone in the house. He didn't like how everyone was pretending to be nice to him. Just be pissed at him and what not. That would make (Y/N) feel better.

Not this.

Dick often asked him if he wanted to learn something about gymnastics, showing him what he could do. (Y/N) was impressed, but has said that those just your average moves in gymnastics. For the record, those weren't any type of average moves. Those were just some of the most awesome moves that (Y/N) has ever seen.

Of course, (Y/N) would never admit it, but still. He can think to himself that is cool. Since that he wasn't really trained in gymnastics, he wanted to do it. It looked like flying and like a test of strength.

Tim was just there helping him with TV shows. Every now and them, he would just take a break from working on cases and working overall and that was broken by watching different TV shows or cartoons, depending on what he finds. That break thing was put there by Bruce and Alfred enforced it.

You don't want to piss Alfred off.

(Y/N) found himself in the living room by accident and was interested by the fact that Tim was watching cartoons. Tim invited him and (Y/N) sat down on the far end of the couch. Tim started the original Snow White from the beginning and and (Y/N) was in love with the cartoons.

Of course he told Tim it was stupid and a waste of time. Tim didn't say anything, instead quietly gathered them on an USB when they were done and when Tim was in his room, simply leaving the USB in (Y/N)'s room subtly.

(Y/N) and Tim never spoke of it again.

Damian has started showing (Y/N) his favorite books, saying that he is the only one who is intelligent in this household. Of course, Alfred is an exemption to that rule. (Y/N) had to unwillingly admit that he didn't read any books when he was growing up.

Damian already knew the answer, but didn't push it or show the signs of knowing. He just got a stack from the library and showed him a couch where he could lay and read. (Y/N) took the books and started reading it.

It has become a nightly thing for both of them, just reading in silence, normally drinking something during it. The two don't really speak about it, they just hang out and that is just about it. It brought them together silently.

Alfred was teaching him how to cook. He started with some simple recipes and slowly moved on to more complex recipes. Alfred saw that he was a fast learner and the two were often found together cooking and just experimenting in the kitchen.

And Bruce?

He helped him with just socializing outside of the house. It has started with just other superheroes and it soon turned into full on sessions to speak. (Y/N) was slowly getting more comfortable and Black Canary was helping him out with therapy. He was against it at first, but has decided to confront his demons.

Slowly but surely, he is getting more and more comfortable and slowly started discovering his personality. Black Canary has even given a green light for (Y/N) to go to school with his peers and Bruce was all for it too. (Y/N) was nervous with the sheer suggestion and they understood.

After a few days of just thinking about it, (Y/N) has decided to go to school. It was a breath of fresh air for him, but slightly overwhelming. His eyes, trained to over analyze everything that could be a possible threat, were analyzing everything and everyone. He met a few people and Bruce was happy to hear it.

Bruce has hoped that one day he would get friends, but hey, one step at the time. Soon, (Y/N) was comfortable with physical affection such as hugs. He liked to receive hugs, especially from Bruce. Although, he is still shy about saying it outright.

Bruce didn't mind, he could see it when he wanted it and just gave him a hug. He always asked him beforehand of course. (Y/N) always had a choice and Bruce would always make sure he knew that. Always.

Soon, (Y/N) became a new vigilante, under a new name, under a new symbol. Bruce was more than proud of his son. Yes, his son. He officially adopted him and waited until his birthday to show him the adoption papers. (Y/N) cried that time in front of everyone. It was from pure happiness of course and he hugged his father, brothers and grandfather by default.

Of course, (Y/N) raised the question of how to call him. Dad? Bruce? Or just plain B?

Bruce said that everything is fine. He didn't expect that he would get called dad. Everyone shared a group hug, showing that (Y/N) he finally has a family that he could rely on. It was an emotional moment for everyone, especially for (Y/N).

After it was said and done, the cheesecake was shared amongst everyone and the celebration went well into the night. Considering that they had no neighbors so there was no complaints on that part. (Y/N) was finally happy in his life.

He finally had choices. People he could rely on. A place he could call home. But more importantly, he is happy. For the first time ever.

[offtorivendell]

Is this proof that the mating bonds of the High Fae were corrupted along with Prythian's Cauldron? What might this mean for Azriel and Elain Archeron?

This post was written for @azrielappreciationweek Day 5: No Need For Poetry

Disclaimer: this is a theory that, while based on the text, makes no claim of being canon. My thanks as always go out to @wingedblooms, @elrieldreamer, @ladynightcourt3, @psychologynerd and anyone else who tolerates my nattering. And don't worry, this isn't nearly as long as my last post. 😂

Spoilers: the entire Maasverse to date is discussed.

High Fae and their mating bonds

@wingedblooms recently made a great observation: that the witches from Erilea had once taken up the Fae habit of "selecting" their mates. This especially caught my eye as I have previously theorised that all Singers could be witches or sorcerers of a sort. I think @psychologynerd also mentioned the same passage when she discussed the possibility of Azriel being a witch prince, which I absolutely hope is true.

The crone read her question in her eyes. “Our men dwell at our homes, where they are safe. This camp is an outpost while we conduct our business.” The Crochans had always given birth to more males than the Ironteeth, and had adopted the Fae habit of selecting mates—if not a true mating bond, then in spirit. She’d always thought it outlandish and strange. Unnecessary. - KOA, chapter 15

It even pairs nicely with the following quote, which @silverlinedeyes included in her discussion about true mates possibly being a bond type all of its own.

“After your mother never returned, your father was asked to couple with another young witch. He was the sole carrier of the Crochan bloodline, you see, and should your mother and you not have survived the birthing, it would end with him. He didn’t know what had happened to either of you. If you were alive, or dead. Didn’t even know where to look. So he agreed to do his duty, agreed to help his dying people.” Her great-grandmother smiled sadly. “All who met Tristan loved him.” Tristan. That had been his name. Had her grandmother even known it before she’d killed him? “A young witch was chosen for him especially. But he did not love her—not with your mother as his true mate, the song of his soul. Tristan made it work nonetheless. Rhiannon was the result of that.” - KOA, chapter 15

Those on their own were very interesting finds, but when we combine them with the now-canon fact that, per Silene's message, Prythian's Cauldron has indeed been corrupted, it shines the following passage from ACOMAF in an entirely new light.

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. - HOFAS, chapter 19

I held out my own glass for Mor to fill. “He does need unusual amounts of coddling.” Azriel choked on his wine, and I met his gaze—warm for once. Soft, even. I felt Rhys tense beside me and quickly looked away from the spymaster. A glance at the guilt in Rhys’s eyes told me he was sorry. And fighting it. So strange, the High Fae with their mating and primal instincts. So at odds with their ancient traditions and learning. - ACOMAF, chapter 56

So at odds with their ancient traditions and learning.

Feyre suggested the primal instincts of the high fae mating bonds - at least as they currently exist - were "at odds" with their ancient traditions and learning.

Does this not sound like we should be questioning everything, especially in light of the information we learnt in HOFAS, which confirmed what some of us had previously wondered about the Cauldron having been tampered* with? It makes me wonder what, exactly, made these two facets of the current high fae become so at odds with each other.

* Kudos to @fawnandshadows for that brainwave years ago!

Why can Azriel smell the bond between Elain and Lucien before it has been consummated? That shouldn't be possible, especially as - like Cassian - he simply "suspected" that Feyre and Rhys were mates in early ACOMAF. Unless there's something we don't yet know, Amren was the only one who knew without being told.

Further, why does proximity to the "bondmates" become too much for even such a hardened soldier to bear? This doesn't seem normal.

Why does the Cauldron's magic appear to be associated with oiliness?

It has to be the Cauldron's corruption, right?

What if Azriel has been right all along... what if the Cauldron was wrong?

So... Azriel and Elain Archeron?

We know that Azriel's shadows can hide him from binding magic, such as the contract Thesan created to keep the peace in the High Lords' meeting.

Azriel squeezed, Eris thrashing beneath him. No physical brawling—there had been a rule against that, but Azriel, with whatever power those shadows gave him … “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Perhaps those shadows that now slid and eddied around the shadowsinger hid him from the wrath of the binding magic. The others made no move to interfere, as if wondering the same. - ACOWAR, chapter 45

@mrspettyferr has previously wondered if this part of the shadows' power could have been why a true bond didn't snap between Azriel and Elain while at Hybern, either when she was in/freshly out of the Cauldron (or with Mor previously, if it turns out they share some sort of bond); do his shadows hide him from the binding magic/contract of a mating bond? Especially as SJM has used the term "shackled." It is an incredibly interesting thought, as I had only ever considered this ability in terms of defensive magic, and is part of the reason why I first took note of the passage below. Of course, we still need to answer why a mating bond would generate with Lucien in the absence of Azriel's soul; was there some sort of external interference, such as the Cauldron itself, or is it simply part of the function of at least one of the hypothesised bonds to snap into place if the nearby match is "good enough" for strong children?

@wingedblooms and I have previously discussed the potential for an evolution of the current mating bond (here and here), and many theories exist about how the bond may be dissolved. Will it be Nesta or Elain who use the power of the Cauldron to unMake it; will it be Truth-Teller severing the Elucien bond, per sleepyliv and @riddlecrux; or did Lucien and his spell-cleaving heritage unintentionally pull their bond thread loose and begin its unravelling back in ACOWAR, as once suggested by @nikethestatue.

Assuming that whatever exists between Elain and Lucien can be unMade, of course, I wonder if Azriel's shadows/magic could contribute in some way towards him "selecting" his own mate in the future, after reading the following exchange.

“No one’s got any rope?” Bryce asked pathetically. She was met with incredulous silence. Bryce nodded to Azriel. “Those shadows of yours could take form—they caused that cave-in. Can’t you, like, make a bridge or something? Or your blue light … you seemed to think it could have restrained the Wyrm. Make a rope with that.” His brows rose. “Neither of those things is remotely possible. The shadows are made of magic, just very condensed. These”—he motioned to the blue stones in his armor—“concentrate my power and allow me to craft it into things that resemble weapons. But they’re still only magic—power.” - HOFAS, chapter 16

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

Why did we learn that Azriel's shadows cannot make any sort of "bridge" or "rope" (aka a cord of woven threads, which is very reminiscent of a mating bond) to reach across the gap? It seems pretty symbolic to me, and marries nicely with Truth-Teller being described as "bridging the gap" between Elain and Azriel in ACOWAR's pre-war meadow scene. Will Azriel's shadows or siphons be able to help nullify the Elucien bond somehow? What about creation?

Purification?

I know @wingedblooms and @ladynightcourt3, at least, join me in my suspicions that - similar to Yrene in KOA - Elain's magic/light could purify a Valg (or similar) infestation from Azriel's shadows, which we now know are really condensed magic. If this is possible, could Az's shadows - once purified by Elain, of course (assuming Valg or similar corruption to the Cauldron, with Elain as the "executioner") - help to bridge the gap between his and Elain's souls with his magic, to meet hers half way? Thereby having Azriel and Elain "select" each other as true mates, just like the witches in Erilea once did?

Why did SJM say that Truth-Teller was bridging the gap between the two? Was it because it had been charged with sunlight and/or Elain's own light enough to begin negating a possible Valg infection in Azriel's magic, or that it will be charged enough to do so at some point in the future? Or will Gwydion or Truth-Teller's magics help to cleanse the hypothetically corrupted Cauldron bond that currently exists between Elain and Lucien? There are so many possibilities going forward.

Whatever ends up happening, this all seems very symbolic. Especially once you add in all of the "purity language" (not my term) that SJM used between Elain and Azriel. Imagine the pay off if it was always suggesting that Azriel sensed Elain's light could cleanse his magic and free him from Valg (or other) corruption?

That would be amazing foreshadowing. Sorry.

[dalliancekay]

Crowley is not stupid, Aziraphale is not an idiot and other assorted thoughts

Or how nothing is black and white and my bullying home and religious trauma is a metaphor not a direct translation to what our immortals experience. And vice versa. -

I don't know what it's like to hang out on Earth since the beginning but I'm sure it is richer than we can imagine, than we could imagine.

Our two favourite, currently men shaped beings, are captured for our storytelling enjoyment when their time on the Blue Planet is about to be cut off.

One has been thrown out from their family home ages ago, we are not sure for what misdemeanour exactly, and is now working for a dumpy place where they don't mind inflicting pain if you misbehave nor do they care whether anything is fair. So, a mafia, basically. And our hero is tasked with collecting new additions to the unhappy family on top of that. He doesn't much care for it and seems to do the bare minimum only and/or collect victims who,ve already proven they belong there.

The other has been sent to the young planet to guard the indigenous humans and told something vague about an Ineffable Plan that will all work out when there's a War in a few thousand years, which 'our, the 'good' side will win and everyone will be happy. Just tell the humans to behave and if they don't kick up a fuss, we will welcome them here too.

And here is a vast, empty place, overly lit, with busy, lonely bees working and filing, and checking, making sure rules are in place and are followed as written and everything is ticking over; the higher ranks' punishments rare but swift. Everyone has learnt a lesson when half of them were unceremoniously fired when someone said some nasty things about the CEO. So things might not be perfect but at least if you stick to your tasks you will be left alone.

So, we meet demon Crowley, whose family threw him out as mentioned above and his job sucks and he hates it but it's not hard and his placement is rather a nice place so he does his best to not to lose the position. Sometimes he wonders what is the point of it all and that's when he runs into his adorable archenemy, the angel Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was sent to Earth and given a job, one that doesn't seem to quite work out (or does it?) as he follows his heart instead of the rules almost immediately but surprisingly is not punished for it by the CEO. So he spends his time helping the natives where he can, following orders he receives as far as he must and when he runs into his archenemy the demon Crowley, he feels a certain strange tingle and flutter in his heart at the sight of the rulebreaker.

They have done a fair job of it for 6 millennia. They avoid getting fired and even manage to take on each other's tasks to lighten up the load and the (pointlessly) random business trips (does anyone Up or Down there ever heard of geography?)

When we meet our heroes in present day-ish, they've been told the End of the World sequence has been triggered and life as they know it is about to end. 

How do they feel about this? Well. Our demon is appalled. He knew this was coming. But not really. It's just something to sort of work towards right? After all, the Earth has been developing rather nicely. The alcohol got better, the food for his Angel, the music got interesting, the clothes tighter... He's having a good time. Yes, he pushes his luck sometimes. Sleeps too long, gives in and saves someone instead of ruining them. He gets into all kinds of tangles to spend time with his crush. He is rash but he's not stupid. He knows what's at stake. But he is angry. And sometimes that's hard to contain. He does go too fast. But Aziraphale is always there to catch him. And if he can't, he waits and worries and is there when Crowley returns.

So about the angel? He knows he should dislike the demon. He knows he should follow his directives. He knows he should not meet or talk to Crowley. And what does he do? Gets himself arrested in his fanciest silks so they can have crepes when the world and humanity is bringing them down with their relentless hate towards each other. He puts on a magical performance when the demon fails to deliver some contraband liquor in the midst of the Blitz bombing to save his face.

And, now. Here's the funny bit. Our angel has gotten himself a part time job in the past few centuries. He's had a few before, but not quite like this. He has a place he loves now. A safe, cluttered place where a demon is welcome. It's not much like his original home. You could say... it's rather quite the opposite of it. In any case, he never really got on with his managers but tbf he likes his job. It makes the humans happy and he loves the humans and loves making them happy.

He also does not want the world to end. But his fam has always told him that that's the Plan. It was The Plan since before Earth was even formed and humans were just a design concept. Once this bit is over, an even better one will come along etc.

What is my point?

That neither Crowley or Aziraphale are wrong. Or right. Doing the correct thing. Or not. Me. You. We come from broken families, we have been friends and lovers with bad people, we have escaped religions, cults, home countries. Lies. Rules. Hate. We have fought for our love to be recognised as love.

Crowley and Aziraphale live in a world where Heaven and Hell are real. Where Satan rules over a smelly place with mould on the walls and God is engrossed in her sci fi novels and seems to have forgotten about Her Earth project.

You can't call Aziraphale an idiot for believing in God. She exists. Whether She has a plan is open to debate, sure. She seems to have claimed so at some point, but then, we all change don't we. Maybe She changed Her mind and forgot to tell the upper management. Maybe She thought She didn't need to spell out all the details to them and so in their zealousness, they want to kill Job's kids. Maybe She was vague on purpose much in the style of King Henry II and Thomas Beckett.. Anyway. Back to Aziraphale, our angel on Earth. He is kind, clever, anxious and in love. With humanity and with one particular demon. And in the millennia he holds his post, he changes. He slowly learns to trust himself more. Trust his judgment. Find 'technicalities to do what he prefers, not what he is told. It started with the sword and his giving away of it. He made a decision to protect Job's children. Risked Falling for it. Trusted the demon over his bosses.

Nobody noticed (or did they) how our two field agents fell in love (neither did they tbf) and how fiercely they guard the little secret they share.

So. Things happen. Plan A, War and Destruction, did not work out. The youngster they sent from Below decided he likes the new place and refused to ruin it. Both Aziraphale and Crowley learned things. They are still learning. The demon how to trust someone. The angel how to trust himself.

So what's next? The place Above is going to send their trusted agent. He followed the rules last time seamlessly. It did not quite work out but no problem, they'll send Him out again. With a rather more final arrangement.

In the meantime, the disgraced and rather troubling Earth agents have been lying low. Unsure of their places and overall safety, they went on with their lives as best as they could until the angel happened to help his former boss run away with his paramour from the other side and is visited by the Big Boss.

Big Boss wastes no time and suggests to our angel he should come back Upstairs and take the place of his disgraced superior. To use his skills. To be better looked after perhaps. New opportunities. To be close to the big upcoming decisions or - under a close watchful eye.

Aziraphale, not surprisingly, refuses. He does not want to put any of his 'skills' to any good causes but his own. But then. THEN. He is not so subtly made aware that his dangerous liaisons with the other side have been noted and their help in the latest Complication might not go unpunished if he's not careful.

And this job offer suddenly seems FAR more sinister than it did 15 minutes ago. Especially when it is handed over with a coffee (that he does not much like) from a place called Give Me Coffee Or Give me Death.

Our angel goes home to cautiously tell his demon about the trouble they are in and his world comes crashing down around him.

This post turned out to be completely different to what I originally wanted to write. Is there a point? You decide.

Aziraphale's decision makes complete sense to me, he loves the Earth, his home and Crowley over and above everything else. And he WILL fight for their safety. AND the humans in the process if he can. He's not going to Heaven to be a good little angel.

This is my very first Tumblr post. Way to go me etc. Please be kind.

[lokideservesahug]

Unfounded Opinion

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Pairing: Josep 'Pepe' Maria Martí x gn!reader

Notes: Haven't written for Pepe before and don't know how many of you read about him but here we are regardless.

Warnings: None, Youre kind of a hater but that's about it!

Summary: You shouldn't be so irked by the guy who took your old seat. So what is it about Josep Maria Martí that grinds your gears?

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You watch the F2 race with an Eagle eye. You know as well as anyone that your friend and old teammate, Ollie Bearman has a seat for next year. Heck, even his new teammate Andrea 'Kimi' Antonelli has one. So you've long since learnt to not keep an eye on him at the start of the race and instead just check in on him periodically. Your attention is turned to the back if the grid, a place that you find your attention drawn to quite frequently as of recently.

Pepe seems like a nice guy. Scratch that he appears to be so incredibly lovely. Even your old competitor (and teammate in a different sense as you both raced for Red Bull) has messaged you saying that Pepe is lovely. And that's saying something because depsite how nice Isack is, he can get very hot tempered when on track, and you'd seen people be at the wrong end of that far too many times to count.

So why on Earth, if all of your friends liked him, did you feel a certain twinge of dislike for him? You hadn't even had a proper conversation with the guy and yet here you stood, quiet resentment coursing through you as you look at the man that took your spot in the Red Bull F2 livery.

Pepe's starting near the back of the grid today. And depsite him clearly having talent, he's had such a poor season this year. Too many 'wrong place, wrong time' occurrences or just strokes of sheer bad luck. And you know that if what you say ypu feel is true, you should be happy at his misfortune!

You push down the conflicting emotions and focus on the now changing lights. 3,4,5 and the minute the lights go out you feel a pit in your stomach. You hardly have any time to question why though when the one of most horrific crashes you've ever witnessed happens in front of your eyes. You gasp, hand flying to your mouth.

You stare at the replay. The same tragedy replaying over and over again like a broken record. Repeating in the same way that you'll sure it will also repeat in your dreams. Without thinking you bolt up, you race to the Red Bull pit wall, you spot Isack and walk over to him. You don't even get a word out before he's sending a string of broken French and English curses. You're to used to his behavior so you don't pay it any mind. Well that and you're kind if focused on something else entirely. Someone else... Not that you'd ever admit that of course.

And if by magic (or by reading your mind,) Isack understands the war waging in your mind. He raises an eyebrow and smirks. You give him a suspicious look "What?" His smirk just widens. "Nothing, I just thought you hated him." You tilt your head and go to respond but the sound of increases hustle behind you makes you turn.

There, somehow relatively unscathed stands Pepe. You let your eyes linger on him for a moment (and the way that the Sun catches his face, making his eyes shine a gorgeous colour, one that you're sure you'll memorise). You shake yourself out of the thoughts if dreaming of a colour until the end of your day's. How corny. You turn back to Isack only to find him walking behind you, grabbing your arm to pull you with him as he walks.

He adresses Pepe in a way that can only be said by a teammate that truly cares about their counterpart. "How are you mate? That looked horrible." Pepe let's out a dry laugh and you let the melodic sound wrap around you as if it were a warm embrace.

Wait a minute...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

No!

Oh gosh you can't be thinking like this. You can not possibly be thinking about caring for Josep Maria Martí. You barely even know the guy. You nearly groan aloud out of force of habit but stop yourself. You, however must have imagined stopping yourself as Pepe's eyes finally meet yours. You give him and embarrassed smile and small nod. He just gives you an uncertain nod and his eyes linger on your form for a moment longer before he turns to make eye contact with Isack again.

After a few minutes of them talking, an engineer approaches Isack to let him know he needs to get into the car. Isack bids his goodbyes and a small "Glad you're alright." to Pepe and just smirks at you. You watch Isack's retreating figure ans then slowly turn to Pepe in realisation. "Are you not going to the medics." Pepe smiles slightly and shakes his head. "I did but they said I was alright." You shake your head. "Well that's a lie. No one could have a crash like that and still be alright. Are you sure they checked everything?"

Pepe just gives you a soft grin and nods. His eyes however are drawn to something behind you as his eyes meet the camera not far behind your head. He acknowledges the camera and you turn away slightly, as if trying to convince yourself that your one moment of concern for the Spaniard wasn't just caught on camera for millions to see. You try and instead focus your attention down the pitlane to see the other drivers get in their cars when you hear Pepe's voice. "Thank you for checking." You turn to him and give him a tight lipped smile (that feels far too sincere for your liking).

Before the two of you can let the moment last any longer however, an engineer wraps Pepe up in talks of the new race start. And you duck away to the side of the safety barriers, trying to become invisible to the masses.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

"You two looked cosy..." You look up at your phone to give Isack a confused look. "A) How did you get in here and B) what are you talking about?" Iscak just grins and tosses his phone next to you on the bed. You pick it up and scroll for a moment. Looking at a thread of tweets containing both photos and comments about you and Pepe earlier today. Youjust groan, you were only around him for all of a gew minutes and that's what the cameras decided to pick up? "You've made many waves online today. And now everyone is talking about you and shipping you!"

You groan and flop back onto the bed and groan in to the duvet. Isack just chuckles and you look u to send him a harsh glare. "Not helping." Your frustrated words only serve to make him laugh harder and you let your head fall back onto the duvet. "Everyone needs to shut up. I me he's so..." Isack raises an eyebrow, curious as to your next words. You've made no secret if your distate for the Psnaiard over the last fewonths. Yet he's never quite been able to squeeze and exact reaso why out of you. "I..." You look for Isack before rolling your eyes. "Don't need to explain myself to you. Isack just groans and this time you smile at his frustrated demeanor.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

"Good luck out there." You turn behind you, the familiar voice that you can't quite place catching you off guard. "I- thank you." You stutter briefly as you meet Pepe's eyes. Not at all expecting him to be here, let alone wish you good luck. The surprise must be evident on your face because Pepe looks down with a bashful smile which also makes you feel a bit guilty. "Where are you watching from?" Pepe looks up at your obvious attempt at civil conversation for the first time. "Just the Red Bull garage for practise but Red Bull said Isack and I can go in yours or Max's on race day." You glance down at the floor, the thought of Pepe in your garage feeling far too civil for your liking, conjuring up far too many thoughts of Pepe in civil, domestic and even romantic scenarios. "You can stay in mine on Sunday of course."

Your heart beats wildly in your chest at your brazen words. And if you'd have blinked you'd have missed the small flash of shock across his face and signature grin finally being aimed at you. And gosh you hate to admit it but it makes your stomach flutter slightly. "You want your first experience here to be one of victory of course." Pepe let's out a low chuckle and you try to ignore the warm feeling that the sound brings you. His eyes meet yours again and you nearly feel yourself get lost in them until a call of your name interrupts your moment. You thank the intrusion of one of your engineers however and you give Pepe a small smile and mutter "It was nice to see you." Before scurrying away, not bearing to see his reaction.

Isack approaches Pepe and slaps him on the shoulder. Pepe's grin and softened eyes change as he squints and turns to his teammate . Before Pepe can even mutter a word, Isack cuts across him. "You're hopeless mate." "I don't know what you're talking about!" Iscak just laughs at his friend's words and walks futher into the garage. Leaving behind a confused and blushing Pepe.

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

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