#but please don’t feel like you HAVE too

[pucksandpower]

Under the Mistletoe

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando really wants you to kiss him under the mistletoe. Sounds normal enough, right? Wrong! So wrong

Warnings: 18+ content and description of an allergic reaction

The apartment is finally quiet. The muffled thrum of conversation and laughter that had filled every corner just hours ago has faded, leaving only the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room. It smells like pine needles, spiced cider, and the faint citrus tang of your new body wash. You pad softly down the hallway in your slippers, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet.

“Lando?” You call, peeking into the dimly lit bedroom.

He’s there, of course, but the sight that greets you isn’t what you expect.

Lando is lying on his back, smack in the middle of the bed, arms folded behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing … except for a single, strategic adornment. Tied with what looks like a strip of red ribbon, a sprig of mistletoe dangles provocatively from his dick.

“Seriously?” You stop in the doorway, blinking. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Happy Christmas,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an invitation.” He tilts his head slightly, his curls a messy halo against the pillow. “You’ve got to kiss me.”

“Oh, I’ve got to, have I?” You fold your arms, biting back a smile.

“Under the mistletoe,” he clarifies, as if that makes it any less ridiculous. “It’s the rules. I don’t make them.”

“You absolutely made this up.”

Lando shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Does it matter?”

You stand there for a moment, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You know, normal people just leave cookies for Santa. Not …” You gesture vaguely at him, at the ribbon, at everything.

“Not everything has to be normal,” he says, his grin softening slightly. There’s something teasing in his tone, but there’s sincerity, too. “Come on, it’s Christmas. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it.”

There’s no point denying it. You do love him — ridiculous, over-the-top antics and all. With a sigh that’s more for show than anything else, you take a few steps closer to the bed.

“Alright,” you say, pretending to consider. “Where exactly am I supposed to kiss you? The mistletoe’s not even …” You trail off, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

Lando smirks, his eyes dancing. “Where do you think?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you say again, but you’re already climbing onto the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and Lando watches, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re not protesting much,” he points out.

“Shut up.”

“You could have just stayed in the doorway, you know. Told me off or something. But no, here you are-”

“Lando,” you cut in, leaning over him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, cutting off whatever smug reply he had planned. His hands slide instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as you kiss him.

It’s not rushed. The night has been long, full of people and noise and obligations, and this moment feels like a welcome reprieve. Lando’s mouth is warm, insistent but unhurried, and you let yourself get lost in it for a while, your fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull back, he looks up at you, flushed and grinning.

“Good start,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you shift your attention downward. The ribbon, the mistletoe — it’s so absurd you have to laugh.

“Did you seriously tie this yourself?” You ask, running a finger lightly along the edge of the ribbon.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, yes. Took me a solid twenty minutes, too. Those stupid YouTube tutorials make it look way easier than it is.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, “you’re still here.”

You meet his gaze, your laughter fading. The teasing, playful look in his eyes hasn’t disappeared, but there’s something else there now — something softer, more vulnerable. It’s the look he gets when he’s reminding you, without words, just how much you mean to him.

“Well,” you say quietly, “it is Christmas.”

“And you’ve got to follow the rules,” he murmurs.

“Right.”

The bed creaks slightly as you shift again, positioning yourself more comfortably. You lean down, pressing another kiss to his lips — gentler this time, more lingering. Then you trail kisses along his jaw, his collarbone, the faint dusting of freckles across his chest.

Lando lets out a soft, contented sigh, his hands finding your hips again. “You’re taking this very seriously,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“Lucky me.”

You glance up at him briefly, smirking. “You’ve no idea.”

When you finally reach the ribbon, you pause, your lips hovering just above it. Lando’s breathing hitches slightly, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando,” you murmur.

“Best Christmas ever,” he replies, his voice low and fervent.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you kiss him under the mistletoe.

You pause for a beat, the mistletoe brushing lightly against your cheek. Lando’s breathing is heavier now, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He’s trying to stay still, but his fingers dig into your skin, betraying how much control he’s losing.

“You alright up there?” You ask, teasing, your voice low.

“You know I’m not,” he mutters, his words strained.

“Good.”

And with that, you continue. Deliberate. Unhurried. Every movement of your mouth is purposeful, every touch designed to unravel him. Lando groans, low and broken, the sound rumbling through the quiet room like a storm on the horizon.

“Fuck, you’re …” He cuts himself off, his head tipping back into the pillow. His hands flex against your hips, as if holding you steady is the only thing grounding him.

“Say it,” you murmur, barely pulling away for a second.

He glances down at you, his hazel eyes dark and glassy. “You’re killing me,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile, the corners of your mouth curving just slightly before you return to your task. Lando’s hands slip from your shoulders, clutching the sheets instead. He’s completely undone now — his breathing ragged, his head thrown back, his body trembling beneath you.

“F-fuck … close,” he stammers, his words tumbling out like he’s barely holding them together.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, the vibration of it drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp from him. It’s all he can take.

He breaks.

A strangled sound escapes his throat as his body tenses, and you taste the telltale musky warmth on your tongue. You stay where you are for a moment, letting him ride out the high, his grip on the sheets going slack.

When it’s over, you pull back slowly, swallowing before wiping at the corner of your mouth. One drop clings stubbornly to your lip, and you swipe it away with your thumb, catching Lando’s hazy, satisfied gaze as you do.

“You alright there?” You ask softly, your tone light but full of affection.

“Barely,” he mutters, his voice thick. He exhales sharply, his chest still heaving as he lets his head fall to the side, watching you with a dazed grin. “You’re-”

“What?” You tilt your head innocently, wiping your hand on a tissue before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Perfect,” he finishes, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just the moment.

You laugh quietly, crawling up the bed to lie beside him. He pulls you close immediately, one arm draped over your waist, the other brushing back a strand of hair from your face.

“Was this your master plan all along?” You tease, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he admits, still catching his breath.

“And?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You roll your eyes but smile against his skin. “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

“Happy Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment.

For a moment, neither of you says anything more. The only sound is the quiet crackle of the fire in the distance, and the world beyond the bedroom feels miles away.

Eventually, Lando breaks the silence. “So … same thing next year?”

You shove him playfully, laughing as his grin widens. “Go to sleep.”

And with him wrapped around you, the warmth of his love settling over you like a blanket, you do.

***

The morning light creeps through the curtains, warm and soft, a stark contrast to the frantic energy in the room. You stir awake first, stretching lazily until you feel Lando shift beside you, letting out a low, uncomfortable groan.

“Ugh,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?” You mumble sleepily, rolling over to look at him.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just shifts again, his body stiff and tense. Then he sits up abruptly, wincing as if every movement hurts.

“Lando?” You ask, more alert now.

“It … hurts,” he says, glancing down at himself. “Like, bad.”

You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see it. The redness. The swelling.

“Oh my God,” you say, your voice shooting up an octave. You sit up fully, the sleepiness disappearing in an instant. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims, his face a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “It was fine last night!”

“Well, it’s not fine now!” You scoot closer, carefully inspecting the irritated skin. It’s blotchy, bright red, and looks alarmingly angry.

“It’s swollen,” he groans.

“No kidding.”

“What do we do?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic.

“First, calm down,” you say, though your own voice isn’t exactly steady. “Second … oh my God, Lando, do you think it’s the mistletoe?”

His eyes widen as the realization hits. “You think I’m allergic?”

“Do you have any idea where that stuff’s been stored? It’s probably coated in dust or pollen or something. Or-” Your voice catches. “Do you think you’ve always been allergic?”

“I’ve never, uh … put it on my cock before, so how would I know?”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, panic simmering between you.

“We need help,” Lando says finally.

“Like … a doctor?”

“No!” He yelps. “We’re not going to a doctor for this!”

“Then what-”

“Call Jon,” he blurts out, cutting you off.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. “Your performance coach?”

“Yeah! He knows, like, medical stuff. And he won’t make it weird.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow but grab your phone anyway, scrolling to Jon’s number. “Oh, this isn’t going to be awkward at all,” you mutter as it rings.

“Hello?” Jon answers, sounding far too chipper for the situation.

“Uh, hi, Jon,” you begin, exchanging a look with Lando. “It’s Y/N. Lando and I have … a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Jon asks, his voice immediately shifting to professional concern.

“Well …” You trail off, glancing at Lando, who gestures frantically for you to continue. “It’s kind of … personal.”

“Y/N,” Jon says patiently, “you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Lando’s … area is swollen and covered in a rash.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“… Come again?” Jon finally says, and you can practically hear him trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Lando shouts from the bed. “It’s serious!”

“Oh, it’s serious?” Jon repeats, his voice full of barely concealed amusement. “Alright. How did this happen?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “He … tied mistletoe to it last night.”

Jon doesn’t reply immediately, but the faint sound of him choking back laughter comes through the line.

“Can you help or not?” Lando snaps, his cheeks flushing red — whether from anger or embarrassment, you’re not sure.

“Okay, okay,” Jon says, his tone softening. “It’s probably an allergic reaction. Clean the area thoroughly, apply a topical antihistamine if you have one, and keep it elevated to reduce swelling.”

“Elevated?” You echo, frowning. “How are we supposed to-”

“Just do your best,” Jon says, clearly suppressing a laugh again. “And if it doesn’t improve in a few hours, you might need to, uh … consult a professional.”

“Thanks, Jon,” you say quickly, hanging up before Lando can yell again.

Lando groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the worst Christmas ever.”

“You’ll survive,” you say, grabbing the first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Now, let me see.”

“This is humiliating,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you sit beside him, carefully applying the ointment Jon suggested.

“Hold still,” you say gently, your touch careful.

He winces but doesn’t complain further, watching you with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. After a few minutes, the redness looks slightly less angry, though the swelling is still noticeable.

Once you’re done, you sit back with a sigh, your hands on your knees. “Well, that was a bonding experience.”

Lando lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, not exactly what I had planned.”

You glance at him, your lips twitching upward despite everything. “So … was it worth it?”

He grins, some of his usual confidence returning. “Next year, I’ll make sure to have an epipen ready.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Next year, maybe let’s stick to normal traditions. Like cookies. Or matching pajamas.”

“We’ll see,” he says, smirking as he leans back against the pillows. “I’ve still got a whole year to think of something even better.”

“God help us all,” you mutter, but there’s affection in your voice.

And despite the chaos, as you settle back into bed beside him, you can’t help but think it’s still a Christmas to remember.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 24: Nuru Massage

Eunbi booba make brain go brr. Now imagine her oiled up... brain go boom.

Length 1.6K

Eunbi X Mreader

You look at the sign hanging above you, “Nuru Massage.” You must have considered walking in here a hundred times, but each time, you decided against it. This time, though, you were going to go in. You wanted to see what it was all about, and after doing your research, you felt pretty confident it would be enjoyable, at the very least. “Welcome! How can I help you today?” You hear shouted at you from behind the counter the moment you walk in.

You look at the board behind the lady, noting times and prices available. “I’d like a massage, one of your hour sessions, please,” you say, pointing at the board. 

“An hour session? Alright, just follow me, and we’ll get you started soon.” The woman behind the counter leads you down the hall to a room at the very end. “She’ll be here very soon. You just get ready; there’s a basket for you to put your clothes in.” The woman shuts the door; you spend a minute looking around the bare room before beginning to take off your clothes. Just as you finish putting the last piece of clothing in the basket, the door to your room opens. Taking a step inside is a young woman in a thin white bikini.

“Hello, my name is Eunbi. I’ll be performing this massage for you.” She says with a bow. You stare at her cleavage, her large, weighty breasts immediately getting your attention. “What is your name, sir?” She asks while preparing herself and the room a little more. Eunbi presses a button, and you watch as an air mat inflates in the room's corner. “What is your name?” Eunbi asks again. You respond this time just as the mat is finished inflating. “Please lay down on the mat. I’ll be right over.”

You walk over to the mat and lie down only a few inches off the floor. You stare at the beautiful woman’s backside as she finishes her preparations and walks over to you. “As you know, this is a Nuru massage; we have a special blend of oil we use here,” Eunbi informs you, raising a bottle. “This is what I’ll be using today. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll begin your massage,”

Eunbi lifted the bottle, drizzling the oil over her body. She rubbed the liquid into her skin as she continued to cover herself. The bikini top Eunbi wore became saturated with the oil and turned translucent. Her nipple was visible, but that didn’t bother the young woman; it was a part of the job. Eunbi kept her smile on you as she put the bottle down and spread the oil over the rest of her body. You kept your eyes on Eunbi’s body, watching as it glistened. You got hard immediately; it made Eunbi blush. She crawled onto the mat, her tits hanging over your cock. Eunbi cocks her head to the side, a playful smile on her face as she lowers herself and her breasts rub against your cock, coating it in the oil as she presses her breasts together. You groan, enjoying the feeling of Eunbi’s soft tits slipping around your cock. 

Eunbi giggled but focused on her massage, moving over to your legs. She did the left first, pouring some oil along it before pressing her body against it and sliding up and down it. You could feel her breasts against your thigh as she moved along your body. Eunbi slowed down, moving onto your thigh and sitting on it. Eunbi softly moaned as she rode your thigh, her hips rocking back and forth. Listening to Eunbi’s moans made your cock throb; you desperately wanted to fuck her. The bikini she wore was utterly see-through now. 

Eunbi seemed to notice, too. She looked down and untied her top, tossing it to the side; she followed suit with her panties. You gulped as you saw her bare body in all its glory. Sure, the bikini wasn’t hiding anything in the end, but the look now was awe-inspiring. 

The young woman switched legs, coating the other in oil before riding it. You stare at Eunbi’s tits move as she rides your leg. “Is this to your liking, sir?”

“Yes, it feels nice.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Eunbi says as she comes to a stop, and moves upward, dragging her tits along your stomach before stopping at your chest. You’re eye to eye with Eunbi. She smiles at you. Eunbi moves to the side, placing your arm between her tits. When she’s near your shoulder, you can almost touch her slit, and Eunbi can feel your hand try to reach it. She always moves down your arm just before you can. At the very least, she compensated you by letting you grope her breasts when she was by your hand. You squeezed her weighty breasts; their softness was otherworldly. When you found her nipple, you rolled it between your fingers, making the young woman moan as she moved up and stretched it taut before finally letting go. The process repeats when Eunbi moves to your other arm. As you toy with each other, Eunbi slowly moves herself on top of you, her chest rubbing against yours. 

She leans down and kisses you, “I think I love you.” She says it suddenly, but it’s a rehearsed line. Of course, sex wouldn’t be allowed in a place like this, but if the masseuse and customer happened to fall in love, then it would be fine. It was a little loophole to skirt the law. You follow along, telling Eunbi you love her too as you place your hands at her waist. The young woman giggles, placing her hands on your chest before sitting up and straddling you. She takes your hands, putting them on the tits she knew you couldn’t get enough of. 

You were more than happy to have your hands on them again, immediately squeezing the soft mounds and making her coo. “Such a naughty boy,” Eunbi moaned. The young masseuse lifted herself, grabbing your cock and placing it between your bodies, grinding against it while you played with her tits. You pushed them together, lifted them, and watched them bounce as you dropped them. The look on your face entertained Eunbi and let you continue before eventually wanting to move on. She rose slowly and placed you against her cunt, lowering herself onto your cunt. She groaned as she felt your cock fill her pussy.

As she lowered herself, you unconsciously squeezed her tits roughly, making her moan as she took the entire thing inside her. Eunbi places her hands on your chest, leaning over you as she catches her breath. You let go of her breasts and watch them hang inches from your face. The temptation is too great, and you lean in and take one into your mouth. Eunbi shivers as you begin to swirl your tongue around her nipple. The pleasure only becomes greater as you grab her waist and begin to thrust. “W-wait,” Eunbi moans, the influx of pleasure making her weak. It was hard to hold onto Eunbi; her slick body made your hands move up anytime she bounced on your cock. It also made it hard to stay connected to her breasts. You eventually gave up on that effort and just enjoyed the feeling of your cock in her snug cunt, watching as Eunbi’s tits bounced in front of you.

Eunbi shut her eyes and moaned, enjoying as your cock wet deep into her cunt. Soon, you get into a rhythm, moving your hands along Eunbi’s body as you thrust, squeezing her soft flesh and making her moan. She cranes her neck as she bounces on your cock; seeing her so vulnerable fueled your desire for the young woman. You sat up and ran a hand down Eunbi’s back as you kissed her neck. “Ah, I’m going to cum,” Eunbi whined, her walls tightening around your cock. “You c-can’t cum inside,” Eunbi continued. 

You felt disappointed that she didn’t want you to cum inside her, but something told you could get something better if you followed along. You push Eunbi onto her back and continue your thrusting. You lean over and kiss her, holding onto one of her tits as you slide your cock in and out of her tight cunt. Eunbi’s whines continue to grow louder until she finally cums, her cunt clamping down on your cock, nearly making you cum. 

You manage to pull out at the last second and paint Eunbi’s stomach with your semen—the young woman softly moans as she feels her stomach have cum splattered on it. She breathes heavily, a small smirk on her face as she scoops some of your cum and eats it. “Did you enjoy your massage?” Eunbi asks, out of breath. You nod, feeling very relaxed. “Thank you for not cumming inside. If you ever come back, I’d be more than happy to treat you to a different massage, something much tighter. Your cock begins to twitch at the idea she’s presenting. Eunbi notices your cock twitching, “I guess you understand.”

Eunbi grabs your hand, leading you to the room’s shower, where she washes the oil off you, using her body on you one last time before your visit ends. You pay the woman at the front and leave the massage place, feeling happy that you went in and excited at the chance to have more fun with Eunbi. You imagine what the next experience will be like with Eunbi face down and her ass raised in the air.

[mywritersmind]

THE FAT MAN IN THE RED - LN4

summary : Lando Norris promised two hours of his night to wave to little ballerinas and have them whisper their wishes to him in a Santa costume. His night starts looking up when a woman his age lands on his lap.

listen up : no warnings tbh! suggestive jokes SORRY ITS SO SHORT I WAS GONNA WRITE A LOT BUT ITS ALREADY CHRISTMAS TO HAVE THIS

words : 692

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Oh please! Come meet Santa!” My little sister Mari tugs on my hand. She’s in a little pink tutu and a slick back bun, her ballet shoes have been changed into her usual converse.

We’re at an after party/fundraiser for her ballet show, the kids were all surprised by a man dressed as santa. She was adorable, a tiny Clara!

Mari skips off with her friends as I turn to mine. Kat downs her drink, “I need another one. Too many kids around.” I laugh and clink her already empty champagne glass.

We walk off to the bar, looking up at the giant chandelier and sprawling stairways. This theater is beautiful, kids in costumes and glitter run around while the society of Monaco gossips and laughs in their presence.

We grab more champagne, smoothing out my dark plum dress and almost twisting an ankle with these silver heels my sister begged me to wear.

“Y/n!” Mari yells, hopping up and down, in line to meet the big man himself. Or… a knock off.

“Oh my.” Kat elbows me, “I’d let him slip down my chimney-” I scoff loudly and laugh, hitting her arm.

“What about that french boy you met?” I raise a brow, my eyes lingering on the man whose face is partially covered by a white wig and beard.

“Oh I see him.” She winks as I giggle, “Come on then, you must meet this cute santa!” I groan as she drags me to the back of the line, “I’ve heard whispers… he’s twenty six.” She whispers as I watch two F1 drivers walk past us.

“I am not sitting on his lap!” I laugh, shaking my head and sipping my drink, Kat grips my arm and pulls me to the front next to Mari.

“What are you asking for?” Mari asks me, clapping her little hands together and tapping her feet.

Her friends touches my dress, “This is so pretty!”

“I heard he’s famous.” One of the ballerinas behind us says just as I get pushed onto the little stand and an elf guides me.

He looks at me, all dressed up and in a whole fat suit. I can’t help but laugh as I get helped onto his lap. I honestly feel horribly awkward, “Sorry… my friend made me.”

His eyes are green, the kind of striking color that stops your thoughts. He tugs down his fake beard, exposing his face and smile.

A very attractive face and smile. “Don’t worry. Are you gonna make me do the voice?” He's got freckles and an accent.

I smile softly, “There’s a voice?”

“What are you asking for this christmas?” He says it in a deep santa like voice.

I laugh, “That’s good.”

“Why thank you…” I raise a brow at his trailing off, “I need a name to match the pretty face, and for the address of your gifts, I suppose.”

Oh he’s a flirt. “Y/n.” I nod, “You gonna make me call you santa?” His fingers brush the side of my hip.

“I’m not that into role playing…” He shakes his head and I spot a tiny dark curl by his ear, “Okay the elf’s are about to get mad. What would you like for Christmas, Y/n?”

He says my name, looking me dead in the eye. Shit I think I might be attracted to Santa.

I bite my lip, “How about, what time Santa gets off?”

His smile shifts into a smirk, “Christmas came early, I guess. Ten.”

He meets me in an empty hallway, Its almost hard to tell if it’s him because of his change in clothes.

He's in a black suit, bowtie and everything. He’s far more agreeable without the white hair.

In fact, the white is replaced with real curls. Dark curls cut into a nice mullet that suits his face. It was in fact a fat suit that I can now clearly see was horribly fake.

I have a sneaking suspicion that tonight is going to be extra interesting now. His hands go to his pockets, that smile on display again for me. “I’m Lando.”

[lowkeyren]

—reject me not!

in which : when your sudden confession catches blade off guard, his response comes across as a rejection. though he realises his mistake, and tries his best to make things right. (...it gives the whole hq a headache)

slight humor, idiots in love, mutual pining, misunderstanding, you tease him w/o realizing (n he gets back at u hehe), reader is a stellaron hunter, stellaron hunters wingwomen!!!, art by @/kkuekkue on x. reblogs are appreciated! please enjoy <3

wc: 4.2k // hm secret santa? HOHOHO @mikashisus, rayray!! u might pull ur hair out at some parts idk :joy: happy reading n merry christmas my little elf xx

"i think i like you."

the words leave your mouth quicker than your brain can second-guess them. 

blade freezes mid-step, his back visibly stiffening. when he turns to face you, his sharp, cold eyes betray a fleeting glimmer of surprise, perhaps, or confusion —but it disappears as quickly as it came.

he stares at you, his eyes widening just slightly, the faintest crack in his carefully maintained composure.

but then, his lips part, and all he gives you is a single, flat response.

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?” 

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods. 

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about  “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries. 

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?” 

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one. 

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light. 

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you. 

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented. 

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged. 

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?” 

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry. 

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from. 

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you. 

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about—?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.” 

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway! 

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night. 

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable. 

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end. 

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool. 

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”) 

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. 

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him.  it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise. 

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands? 

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would. 

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those…  for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. 

without a word, he hands the plushie to you. 

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest. 

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfao

MASTERLIST.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊GINGERBREAD MEN

SUMMARY: someone made gingerbread men! you’ve decided to share it with a special someone of yours. how do they eat it?

CHARACTERS: all dorms + grim (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff, crackfic-ish

WARNINGS: cursing

NOTES: debated between this and an angst fic but im feeling festive and holly jolly so you got the fluff this year. merry christmas!!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

EATS THEM LIKE NORMAL CAUSE THEY’RE “JUST COOKIES”

whether they’re in shape of a man or round, a cookie is a cookie. does it matter where you bite first? no! not like it has feelings—stop. he’s not heartless, these stupid cookies can’t feel anything. does not appreciate the way you look at him with a slight frown. he’ll acknowledge the fact they are more than regular cookies, does that satisfy you? please just say it does. you want to make houses for them too?! sighhh… get him the kit from the kitchen..

riddle, trey, leona, jack, azul, jamil, vil, malleus, sebek, silver

BITES THE HEAD OFF FIRST

snaps the head off and starts grinning like a fool. will literally INSIST it’s the most efficient way to eat gingerbread men and is not willing to reason. since he’s so mature, you’ve caught him one time biting the head off then putting the cookie back on the plate with red icing oozing from the top. nooo… he didn’t do that. the cookie was just bleeding, that’s all! don’t look at him like that, let him have fun. anyway, if you’ll excuse him. this plate of gingerbread wasn’t going to eat itself and these guys must be rushed to the guillotine. which was his mouth.

ace, jade, epel, idia

BITES OFF THE ARMS AND LEGS SO THEY “SUFFER FOR THEIR GINGERBREAD CRIMES”

if only you could paint a picture of the scene you had just saw. he throws the cookie onto the plate, interrogating it with questions straight out of a detectives movie. abruptly, he picks the poor cookie up and snaps off all its limbs, leaving the head before smiling at it wickedly. as he heard your voice, he turned suddenly. uhm.. you didn’t see that. he was just uh.. asking questions. to be fair this man owed time. wait, DONT YOU DARE TAKE PICTURES OF HIS SHAME. HEY! GET BACK HERE!

deuce, cater, floyd, rook, idia, lilia

POPS THE ENTIRE COOKIE IN THEIR MOUTH, SOMETIMES SEVERAL AT ONCE

feels like staring at a chipmunk. you had just watched him massacre what could’ve been an entire village of gingerbread men in less than 20 seconds because he thought it was funny. felt no regret whatsoever and will not hesitate to do it again. you try to explain to him why eating it this way was probably not a good idea, but fuck that!! who cares!! it’s christmas which means every man for himself!! and then he choked on cookies for 10 minutes so good luck to you, prefect.

ace, ruggie, jade, floyd, kalim, epel, lilia, grim

A/N: sorry, got busy again this month lol. here’s a xmas special to make up for the disappearance. merry christmas!!

date published: 12/25/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[crwbannwen]

I was writing this in the tags but I have too much to say.

So this absolutely. Don’t unwelsh my Mari Lwyd please and thank you

BUT I’d like to add some more:

As someone completely guilty of using the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ over pwnco. It’s because it’s one, a joke phrase I used to use even before it became more widely recognised, and two a more understandable concept I can explain to people without boring them with rhyme and meter.

I love my rhyme and meters, so trust me I knew how the pwnco worked when I use this phrase. I like saying ‘Welsh Rap Battle’ because I think it’s funny and emphasises how cool and charming I find my own cultural tradition to an English speaking person who wouldn’t know the tradition. It’s good to alter your language for people’s ease of understanding, it’s unfortunate that the joke caught on to people who don’t understand the pwnco. (And there is a limit to changing your language: it eventually does become altering something important too much for someone’s benefit).

I will also note here, while I use the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ to reinforce that I like the tradition, I also know people who were ashamed of the culture and tradition and used that phrase to make fun of the dead singing horse (same issue with Scots being called a dialect: cultural shame is a big issue in Wales even if we don’t think it is). Now the tradition is being reclaimed I doubt those people still see it as something to be ashamed of. But it’s something to keep in mind when using that phrase. Intentions do vary.

But my main point I wanted to adress:

Dysgais i Cymraeg fel iaith yn ail felly dw i ddim yn siarad cymraeg yn digon rhugl i fyrfyfyrio pwnco. Dw i’n gallu creu cerdd gydag amser ond beth am y bobl (cymreig) sydd ddim yn gallu siarad cymraeg o gwbl?

So while we don’t want to remove the Welsh from our tradition, we definitely don’t want to make the tradition inaccessible to our own people.

Learning a language is difficult. The education system sucks. Welsh second language a level is torture (I’d know, I did it. Average AS result in my class was a U, it was that awful). And not everyone has the means or the opportunity to learn Welsh so we should take care never to ostracise our own people. It’s more than unfortunate that we don’t all have a good grasp on the language. So having a set Cân-y-Fari that non-speakers or dysgwyr can learn and recite helps to both immerse them in Welsh and includes them in their own culture. Same with having art or an aesthetic. Maybe you can’t speak Welsh: but you can draw. That gives you a way to celebrate your culture still and I think that’s awesome. Even in English I couldn’t improvise a poem with a strict meter. The actual tradition of the Mari Lwyd is a seemingly unattainable level of fluency to most dysgwyr.

Obviously this still needs to coexist with the original Welsh tradition (not necessarily art though, if it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd then it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd. In my opinion art doesn’t need words unless the artist wants to add words). Traditions do change and that isn’t always a bad thing. In this case it’s not something we want to do, but it’s something we need to consider doing in order to help the non-Welsh speakers and dysgwyr be included in their culture.

There is an even larger issue here to be addressed with how we treat our own people as not ‘Welsh’ enough. Especially people who have mixed heritage. There’s a big racism issue that I could unpack here as well where non-white welsh students are made not to feel Welsh enough to deserve to be involved in welsh culture. Which should not happen. Similarly with half English Welshies. We need to stop treating ourselves like we aren’t Welsh enough; it only hurts us to be denied by our own people.

And as for Krampus comparisons, I bonded with a German friend over our different but similarly unique cultural Christmas traditions so I think that’s good too. I guess it’s the simplification of it that’s the problem

So I hate how the Mari Lwyd has been ‘de-welshed’. But personally, the ability for all of Welsh people to have access to it also needs to be considered in this discourse.

Still if the tradition completely shifted to English I would be so livid.

Edit: forgot to say, while I know the Mari Lwyd isn’t a cryptid, it is a cultural creature and I see no issue with people using that aspect of the tradition as a way to connect to it. The tradition isn’t only changing, it’s expanding. We just have to make sure it doesn’t drown out the original tradition

The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.

Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.

It is not in English.

Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.

...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.

So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.

I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.

Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.

And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.

I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.

[l0v3r666]

Hello your posts have been all over my page and I love them! Also happy holidays if you celebrate!

If it hasn't been done, could I ask for a lovesick Leona. I wanna see this lion lose his mind lol.

Ong isn’t this what everyone wants to see??? Happy holidays to you too!

Whenever lovesick!Leona’s not sleeping he’s busy tugging at and redoing his braids. It’s a nervous habit he picked up when you complimented how neat they were despite his usual bed head, now it feels wrong to leave his hair loose..

Lovesick!Leona was actually in deep denial going through his “damn it, no way I like that idiot” phase, and got so sneaky with his naps. But, the prefect’s never been known for their subtlety! It’s like your ability for finding him is instinctual, and to ward you off he sends Ruggie to be your gopher for a bit :)

Lovesick!Leona that gets paranoid when vulnerable, and there’s no better show of “weakness” than falling in love. Marriages of convenience are very normalized in his home country, and he just didn’t see a functional marriage in his future before you showed up,, + he gets soooo jealous of the time you spend with other people. If you like him so much, then why do you need anyone else?

Leona isn’t as pressured to have kids as the second prince, and he’s pretty happy about it. Some messy cub running around and changing his sleep to work ratio isn’t really something he’s into (unless they’re your EXACT copy). You will never ever get him to admit this under normal circumstances, but you’re the only one he sees a life with. Please don’t tease him for the sappy look on his face, compliment him- preserve his pride just this once. He’ll make it worth your while <33

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ Twisted Wings: The Joker’s Plaything ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 4

Summary: Everything hurts... But... But he can take it... He can take it... He just have to wait... He just have to wait... You and Bruce won't let him rot like this... Right?

Warning: Physically and mentally torture, Joker being Joker.

Notes: Merry Christmas everybody! I'm about to ruin it for you... English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

When the cell door creaked open, Jason didn’t even look up. He kept his head down, staring at the cracked concrete floor.

“Oh, bird boy,” the Joker sang, his voice laced with mockery. “Still sulking, are we? What’s the matter? Don’t like the accommodations? Or is it the lack of fine dining?”

Jason didn’t answer. He barely even moved, his breaths shallow and labored.

The Joker’s boots clunked against the floor as he sauntered in, something dangling from his gloved hand. “Well, lucky for you, Papa J is feeling generous today! I brought you something special.”

Jason’s stomach churned as the Joker dropped his “gift” onto the floor in front of him.

Dead rats. Three of them. Their tiny, broken bodies lay sprawled on the floor, their glazed eyes staring up at Jason.

Jason’s lips curled in disgust, and he finally looked up, glaring at the Joker. “You’re fucking insane,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

The Joker grinned, crouching down so his face was level with Jason’s. “Oh, come on, kiddo. Don’t be rude. I went through all the trouble of finding these little guys for you! Freshly caught, too. You should be grateful.”

Jason swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat. His stomach twisted painfully, but he refused to give in. He spat at the Joker’s feet, his good eye blazing with defiance. “Fuck you.”

For a moment, the Joker stared at him, his grin faltering. Then, to Jason’s surprise, the clown’s face lit up with genuine delight. He clapped his hands together, letting out a peal of laughter that echoed through the cell.

“Oh, you’re precious! You really think you can starve yourself to death, don’t you? You’d rather wither away than eat the lovely meal I prepared just for you. How dramatic! How noble!”

Jason clenched his jaw, his body trembling with rage and hunger. “I’m not eating your fucking rats.”

The Joker’s grin widened, and he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a phone. “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind, bird boy. Because if you don’t…” He tapped the screen, and the phone lit up. “Well, let’s just say things are going to get a lot more interesting.”

Jason froze. His heart dropped into his stomach as he stared at the screen.

It was her.

She was standing in what looked like an alley, her arms crossed, her face pale. She wasn’t tied up or restrained, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jason’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat. “No…”

The Joker’s grin stretched impossibly wide. “Oh, yes. You see, bird boy, if you don’t play along, I’m going to pay your little girlfriend a visit. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

Jason shook his head, his voice trembling. “Please… don’t…”

“I’m going to skin her alive,” the Joker said, his voice gleeful. “I’ll peel her pretty little face right off, inch by inch. Then I’ll cook her up into a nice, juicy meal—just for you! Imagine that: you, sitting right here, munching on her crispy little fingers. Doesn’t that sound delicious?”

Jason’s vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “No… Please, not her. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her. Please…”

The Joker tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Then eat,” he said simply, gesturing to the rats.

Jason stared at the dead animals, bile rising in his throat. He wanted to say no, to refuse, to let himself starve. But the image of her face haunted him—the fear in her eyes, the trembling in her hands. He couldn’t let the Joker touch her. He couldn’t let him win.

With trembling hands, Jason reached for one of the rats.

“There’s a good boy,” the Joker cooed, clapping his hands. “Now, be a dear and eat up. And make it quick—I’ve got places to be!”

Jason gagged as he brought the rat to his mouth. The stench of decay hit him like a brick, and he had to fight the urge to vomit. He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and bit into the flesh.

The Joker erupted into laughter, his cackles filling the room. “Oh, this is priceless! Look at you, bird boy, gobbling up rats like a starving stray. Faster now! Come on, show me how much you care about her!”

Jason obeyed, choking down the rancid meat as tears blurred his vision. The Joker’s cheers echoed in his ears, each word a dagger to his soul.

“Faster! Faster! Don’t keep Papa J waiting!”

Jason sobbed as he forced himself to eat, his body shaking with revulsion and despair. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at him. He clung to those memories like a lifeline, even as the Joker’s laughter threatened to drown him.

She loves me, she loves me. She was just scared. She’ll come back… She’ll come back…

His mind screamed at him to stop, to fight back, to do anything but this. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her die.

Everything hurts…

But he could take it.

He had to.

They’ll come for me, he told himself, over and over, like a mantra. Bruce won’t let me die here. She won’t let me die here. I just have to wait. Just a little longer…

But deep down, a voice whispered in the back of his mind—a voice that sounded eerily like the Joker’s.

What if they don’t?

Jason didn’t know how long he’d been in the chair. Days? Weeks? Months? The passage of time had become a blur, a murky haze of pain, humiliation, and Joker’s laughter. He couldn’t tell what was worse—the physical agony or the constant barrage of words designed to pick him apart piece by piece.

The room was cold and damp, the stench of mildew and blood lingering in the air. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the restraints, his muscles aching from being held in the same position for hours—days, maybe. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. But worse than all of it was the gnawing emptiness inside him.

The door creaked open, and Jason instinctively flinched. He hated that reaction, hated how the sound of that door sent ice through his veins. But it was impossible not to. Joker entered with his usual swagger, his painted grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Wakey, wakey, bird boy!” he sang, his voice grating and shrill.

Jason didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He focused on the floor, the dirt-streaked concrete beneath his feet, anything but the clown.

“Aww, what’s the matter, kiddo?” Joker cooed, circling him like a vulture. “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “Maybe you’re starting to break, hmm?”

Jason didn’t respond. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the sharp pain in his cracked ribs. He wouldn’t give Joker the satisfaction.

But Joker didn’t need words. He always found a way to dig his claws into Jason’s mind.

“I brought you a little present today,” Joker said, his tone sing-song. “Thought it might cheer you up, you know, brighten your spirits!” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s picture day, after all!”

Jason finally looked up, his good eye narrowing at Joker. The clown grinned wider and held out the paper, waving it in front of Jason’s face.

“Go on, take a look. Don’t be shy!”

His bound hands couldn’t reach, so Joker leaned in and shoved the picture into his line of sight.

Jason’s blood turned to ice.

It was a photograph. A grainy, Polaroid snapshot of her. She was smiling—laughing, even—standing beside someone in a Robin suit. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his suit.

“No…” Jason whispered, his voice cracking.

“Oh, yes,” Joker said, his tone gleeful. “That’s your replacement, kiddo! Isn’t he a real charmer? A little younger, a little smarter… and oh, so much shinier!”

Jason’s chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe. His mind raced, his heart pounding against his bruised ribs.

“She’s moved on, bird boy,” Joker continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’ve been replaced. Forgotten. Left behind. And look at her—she’s happier, isn’t she? Laughing, smiling, all while you’re down here rotting away.”

Jason shook his head, his breaths coming faster. “No… no, she wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?” Joker interrupted, his tone suddenly sharp. “Wouldn’t forget about you? Wouldn’t find someone better? Oh, come on, kid. Look at the picture. You’re not even a memory to her anymore. You’re nothing.”

Jason felt tears sting his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn’t show weakness. Not now.

Joker noticed anyway. He always noticed.

“Aww, poor little Robin,” Joker mocked, crouching in front of him. “Does it hurt? Does it sting? Knowing she’s out there, living her life, while you’re stuck here… forgotten… abandoned…”

Jason’s silence only seemed to fuel the Joker’s sadistic glee.

“You know, I bet she doesn’t even think about you anymore,” the clown continued, his voice turning cruel. “She probably doesn’t even remember your name.”

“Shut up,” Jason growled, his voice trembling.

The Joker’s grin widened. “Oh, struck a nerve, did I? What’s the matter, kid? Can’t handle the truth?”

“SHUT UP!” Jason screamed, his voice raw.

Joker’s laughter filled the room, loud and maniacal, echoing off the walls.

“Oh, this is too good! You’re just so much fun to play with, bird boy!” He stood, pacing around Jason’s chair. “You know, I should thank you. Breaking you has been the highlight of my days.”

Jason clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wouldn’t break. He couldn’t.

But then Joker leaned in close, his breath hot against Jason’s ear.

“You know what the best part is?” he whispered. “She doesn’t care. She never did.”

Jason’s resolve shattered.

Joker saw it—the moment the fight left Jason’s eyes—and his grin turned triumphant.

“That’s it, bird boy,” he said softly, almost lovingly. “Just let go. Stop fighting. It’s easier that way, isn’t it?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Joker straightened, his grin returning. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, birdie. But don’t worry—I’ll be back. And who knows? Maybe I’ll bring another little picture next time. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Jason didn’t watch him leave. He stared at the floor, the photograph still burned into his mind.

She was smiling.

She was happy.

And he was nothing.

Jason barely registered the blows anymore. His entire body was a mess of torn skin, bruises, and agony so deep it numbed him to everything but Joker's voice. The laughter. Always the laughter. It echoed in his skull, filling every empty space where his own strength used to be.

By now, Jason had stopped flinching. When Joker’s boot slammed into his ribs again, he just let his head hang forward, blood dripping from his mouth onto the filthy floor.

“Oh, come on now, kid!” Joker taunted, squatting down to meet his eyes. He tilted his head in mock pity, his crimson smile as wide as ever. “Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing to say. Not even a little squeak? No ‘stop it’ or ‘please, sir’? You’re usually such a polite little punching bag.”

Jason forced himself to lift his head, just barely, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Please… sir,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.

Joker’s grin split wider. “That’s the spirit! I knew you had some manners left in you.” He stood, pacing in lazy circles around the boy. “Now, I’ve got some questions for you, birdie. You’re gonna answer them, right? Be a good little boy for Uncle J?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason rasped, his voice trembling.

Joker clapped his hands together like a delighted child. “Oh, how precious! Alright, let’s get started, shall we?” He leaned against the wall, casually spinning a crowbar in his hand. “Tell me, Jaybird… what did you see in her?”

Jason blinked slowly, trying to process the question. His mind was a foggy haze, but when he thought of her—her smile, her laugh—it cut through the pain. His lips trembled. “She… she was everything,” he whispered.

Joker cackled, the sound sharp and cruel. “Everything! Oh, that’s rich! And what exactly does ‘everything’ mean, hmm? Did you think she loved you? That she cared about you?”

Jason’s throat tightened. He wanted to lie, to deny it, but he couldn’t. His voice was barely audible. “Yes, sir. I thought she did.”

Joker laughed harder, clutching his sides. “Oh, you poor, delusional boy! And what about you? What did you want with her? Hmm? Did you have plans, birdie? Little fantasies about your future together?”

Jason swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the floor. The words came slowly, haltingly, dragged out of him like a confession. “I wanted… I wanted a family.”

Joker froze mid-laugh, his grin twisting into something darker. He stepped closer, crouching in front of Jason. “A family?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery.

Jason nodded weakly. “Yes, sir. I… I thought we could have a life together. Away from all this.” His voice cracked, tears streaming down his battered face. “I wanted… to marry her. Have kids. Be happy.”

Joker stared at him for a long moment before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh, my God! You really are pathetic, aren’t you? A little boy playing house, dreaming of a white picket fence while Daddy Bats fights crime.”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

“And what about now, hmm?” Joker pressed, his grin predatory. “Do you still want that? After what she did?”

Jason’s head dipped lower, his tears falling freely now. “I don’t know, sir.”

The Joker’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something colder. He grabbed Jason by the hair, yanking his head up to force him to meet his eyes. “Oh, don’t go all quiet on me now, kid. You wanted her, didn’t you? You loved her. You would’ve done anything for her. So tell me…” His grin widened again, sharp and cruel. “Do you still love her?”

Jason’s lip trembled, blood mixing with tears as he whispered, “Yes, sir.”

Joker’s laughter exploded again, filling the room with its twisted echo. He shoved Jason’s head back, sending it slamming into the chair. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Jason didn’t respond. He just sat there, broken and defeated, Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears.

“That’s enough for now,” Joker said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “But don’t worry, bird boy. We’ve got plenty of time to dive deeper into that broken little heart of yours.”

And as Joker walked away, Jason let his head hang again, wishing he could disappear.

Jason didn’t look up when Joker came back. He didn’t have the strength. His body was a wreck, each breath a struggle, each movement a new kind of pain. His mind… it was something else entirely. Foggy, frayed at the edges, and slipping into places he couldn’t pull it back from. It didn’t make sense anymore—none of it did.

The world was nothing but pain now. Pain and laughter. The Joker’s laughter, high-pitched and endless, reverberating through Jason’s broken skull.

"Alright, bird boy!" Joker’s voice rang out, sing-song and sharp, dragging Jason back to the surface of his nightmare. “Let’s play a game, shall we? I call it Truth… or Pain.”

Jason didn’t react. His body slumped in the chair, his head lolled forward. He could barely lift his eyes to meet the clown’s, blood and tears crusted to his face like a second skin.

Joker crouched in front of him, leaning close, so close Jason could smell the rancid stench of greasepaint and sweat. “Here’s how it works, kiddo,” he said, his voice mockingly gentle. “I ask you a question. You tell me the truth, or…” He smacked the crowbar into his palm with a wet thud, grinning wide. “You get the idea, don’tcha?”

Jason didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

The Joker’s smile twisted, his patience as thin as the thread Jason was clinging to. He grabbed a fistful of Jason’s hair, yanking his head up. “Nod if you understand, birdie.”

Jason nodded weakly, his neck too stiff and weak to do more than a faint dip.

“That’s my boy!” Joker chirped, releasing him and stepping back. He twirled the crowbar lazily, watching Jason with an almost fatherly gaze. “Now, first question.” He leaned forward, his grin sharpening. “What’s your name, hmm?”

Jason blinked slowly, his brain struggling to process the words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

CRACK.

The crowbar slammed into his ribs, a sickening snap reverberating through the room. Jason choked on a scream, his body convulsing against the restraints.

“Wrong answer!” Joker sang, his voice bright and cheerful. “Let’s try again, hmm? Who’s Batman’s favorite? Which one of you brats he loves more?”

Jason wheezed, blood dripping from his lips as he forced himself to speak. “D… Dick…”

The Joker tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Oh, really? Are you sure?”

Jason’s throat worked, but the words wouldn’t come.

CRACK.

The crowbar struck again, this time across his knee. Jason screamed, the sound raw and broken, echoing in the dark room.

“Ooh, wrong answer!” Joker said cheerfully. “See, the correct answer is none of you! You’re all just little tools in his utility belt. Didn’t you know that?”

Jason didn’t reply.

“C’mon, birdie! You’re not even trying!” Joker taunted, twirling the crowbar again. “Alright, let’s make this interesting. What’s your biggest fear, hmm? What keeps you up at night, even in this lovely little hell of ours?”

Jason’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps. His vision blurred, but the question cut through the fog. His biggest fear…

The words spilled from him, trembling and desperate, like a confession to a god who wouldn’t listen. “I’m… afraid…” His voice cracked, barely audible. “I’m afraid of forgetting her…”

Joker froze, his grin faltering for just a moment.

Jason didn’t notice. He couldn’t stop now, the words pouring out like blood from a wound. “Please… don’t make me forget Y/N…” His voice broke, tears streaming down his battered face. “It’s only her… only her and me… in this whole world…”

The Joker tilted his head, his grin returning, slower this time. “Oh, kiddo…” he murmured, his tone almost tender.

Jason’s voice cracked again, his words dissolving into sobs. “Just… give me that. Please… please… don’t take her from me… Don’t make me forget her… please…”

Joker stepped closer, crouching again to meet Jason’s tear-streaked gaze. He cupped Jason’s bloodied chin, forcing him to look up.

“Oh, sweet, sweet birdie,” he cooed, his voice soft and mocking. “Don’t you know? She’s already forgotten you.”

Jason’s breath hitched, his chest heaving as the words tore through him like shards of glass.

“She’s out there, laughing, living, loving… while you’re here, rotting away.” Joker’s grin widened, his voice dripping with venom. “And when you’re gone, birdie, no one will even remember you. Not her. Not Batman. No one.”

Jason’s head dropped, his sobs choking him as the Joker’s laughter filled the room once more.

“Truth or Pain, birdie?” Joker asked, raising the crowbar again. “Oops! Looks like it’s both!”

And the blows rained down again, each one erasing a little more of Jason, until all that was left was a broken, empty husk whispering one name into the darkness.

“Y/N…”

Next: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 5.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[shomatoriashi]

12/24/24; 07:04pm

sylus x fem.reader

notes: hhhh i can’t stop thinking about sylus, i love him so much 😭 so have this self-indulgent christmas fic, since i’ll be out of town christmas day.

@voidsylus since i feel like you’d like this fic lots, too (⺣◡⺣)♡

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

you look down at your latest purchase with your lips pursed, unsure if you could pull this off.

calling the article of clothing lingerie was a bit of an understatement. for starters, the lace and ribbons did little to cover your most private parts-

which meant that your surprise would be the perfect gift for sylus after your christmas dinner with him.

being a high class man, he had already booked a reservation at one of the finest restaurants (three michelin stars and all) and was set to spoil you on this special day with all of the delicious foods. a cheerful smile paints your expression when you gather the lingerie and black dress, heading into the bathroom to get ready as you placed a firm lock against the door.

taking off your panties and bra, you allow the flimsy fabric to pool against your ankle before sliding on the lingerie. trembling at how it felt like silk against your skin, you admire it and take in how it fits snugly against your form, licking your lips playfully in response to how delectable your reflection appeared in the mirror.

a sudden knock at the door breaks you out of your reveries when you hurriedly shimmy into your black dress, hearing sylus calling out your name from the other side. “coming sy!” you call out to him, making sure your black dress hid the lace and ribbons before opening the door. your mouth goes dry at the sight of sylus donned in a pristine black suit and dress shoes, it was clear that the onychinus leader wasn’t faring any better when he trails his crimson gaze down your form all while letting out a low whistle.

“you sure know how to make an entrance, sweetie. come, i’ll help you put on your shoes.” taking your hand within his, he walks you over to one of the leather armchairs scattered across his room, sitting you down against the plush leather before searching for the right pair of heels that went well with your dress. he examines the choices from your walk in closet and pulls out the perfect pair for you, already kneeling in front of you as he slid the heels onto your feet while fastening the straps over your ankles.

with you both dressed to perfection, sylus hands you your clutch while wrapping an arm around you. he presses a kiss against your hair, eyes shining with mirth and adoration for you when he sweetly asks, “are you ready to go, love?”

“absolutely.” you tell him with a grin, staying close to his side when he walks with you out of the mansion. he keeps an arm wrapped around your shoulders, using his body heat to shield off the wintry chill felt in the n109 zone. looking ahead, you saw that there was a limousine already waiting for you, with sylus opening the door while coaxing you inside.

basking in the warmth, sylus joins you moments later, sitting next to you on the leather seats with his hand resting against your thigh. his gentle caress succeeds in making you shiver with pleasure, feeling the way his large palm kept tracing at your skin with reverence. letting out a sigh of his name, you rest your head against his shoulder, earning a pleased grunt from sylus.

a few minutes later, you arrive at the restaurant, a place hidden within the heart of the n109 zone. recognizing sylus, the host immediately opens the door of the limousine, allowing you and sylus to step out first as he steadied you by keeping an arm wrapped around your waist.

you both enter the dimly lit restaurant, taking in the intimate atmosphere as there were a few patrons surrounding the other tables. yet instead of taking you to one of the tables, sylus leads you toward an elevator, pressing the button that leads to the topmost floor. the ascent upwards causes to lose a bit of your balance, with sylus steadying you by keeping you in his powerful embrace.

when the elevator opens, you were greeted by a plethora of workers dressed in their own pristine uniforms, each one of them bowing to sylus. “mr. sylus, everything has been prepared for your evening with your beloved. let us know if you need anything from us. we shall take our leave now.”

sylus lets out a simple hum in response, keeping his arms wrapped around you while the workers left, each one of them entering the elevator before disappearing altogether, leaving you alone with your rapidly swirling thoughts. mesmerized by the luxurious penthouse and the scenery of the skyscrapers settled against the night sky, you press the palm of your hand against the cold glass, admiring the sight settled before you. “sylus… this is beautiful… i-“

his rich chuckle echoes in your ear, feeling him wrap his arms around you while pressing a kiss against your hair. “anything for you, my love. now, enough with gawking at the city, we got dinner waiting for us.”

you giggle, allowing sylus to lead you toward the dining table where a delicious spread awaits you. your mouth waters at the scents that surrounds you, with you sitting across from sylus. you enjoyed your dinner, making small talk with sylus, “did you book this place for the night, sy?”

he chuckles, shaking his head while swirling at his champagne glass, “the night? sweetie, i booked this place for the entire week. i figured you were having a bit of cabin fever, staying at the mansion for so long. i wanted to give you a change of scenery, so we can stay here and enjoy the new year as well if you’d like.”

your heart began to pound, filled with love for the man who was so willing to give you the world. you knew then just how much he loved you-

and it was time for you to reveal your own gift for him as well.

swallowing thickly, you place your clutch on the table and stand from your seat, stepping off to the side. sylus meets your gaze with a raised brow, taking casual sips of his champagne with intrigue in his gaze.

“i’m afraid my present for you isn’t quite as extravagant… however-“ you proceed to step out of your heels while slowly sliding off your black dress, revealing the lace and ribbons that covers your body as sylus’s breath began to hitch in response to the mere sight of you. heat was felt coursing through your veins as you watched the way sylus grips at his champagne glass, nearly shattering it as his breathing turns labored. “i love you enough to wear something so embarrassing.”

within seconds, sylus stands back to his full height, taking quick strides towards you as his hands frame at your face all while drinking in the sight of you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your body, “all this lace and ribbons for me…? you shouldn’t have, kitten.”

you let out a gasp when he picks you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. you felt the tent within his pants as his clothed erection brushes against your sensitive core, with him carrying you toward the bedroom as he lays your body at the edge of the bed.

“so fucking pretty f’me…” his voice deepens with passion, hands caressing at your sides with reverence before cupping at the curve of your breast from beneath the ribbon. “you look so fucking good, kitten… i could just eat you up.”

he allows his thick finger to trace at your cunt, collecting the arousal before dipping inside of you, making your back arch against the bed. adding another finger inside of you, sylus explores your slick folds, pumping each digit in and out of you. while his fingers continues its ministrations, he pinches at your swollen bundle of nerves, making you cry out to him as you released your juices into his hand, successfully staining at the silk fabric of your lingerie.

sylus’s breathing becomes heavy, with him removing his fingers from your center. he admires the shiny quality of them before placing his fingers in his mouth, licking your honeyed arousal clean from it. “i’m obsessed with you, sweetie… fuck, c-can i try something…?”

your mind was still in a pleasured haze, making you merely nod at him in response. letting out a grunt of your name, sylus frees his erection from the confines of his pants and boxer, hurriedly taking off the rest of his clothes before settling his cock over your chest. with shudders running down his spine, he places his cock beneath the silk ribbon that covers your chest, bracing himself over you before stroking his cock against you. knowing what he wanted, you bring your breasts together, basking in sylus’s low hiss of pleasure as he fucked himself against your chest.

the feeling of your skin combined with the silk that surrounds his cock was almost too much for sylus to bear. you felt the way his cock twitches with each movement before releasing himself on you. when you felt a few spurts of his cum land against your lips, you made a show of licking it away-

earning a low growl from the man above you.

“naughty minx.” he removes his softening cock from you, admiring the way his seed stains at your lingerie, perfectly ruining it as the sight of it was enough to make a new wave of desire surge through him. with you panting, you look down at sylus, witness the way he strokes his cock against the lace material that covers your center. “i’m guessing you enjoyed my little gift for you?”

“oh yes, immensely. in fact, i don’t mind seeing you in such pretty ribbons and lace, 24/7- all year round, even.” his excitement was felt pressing up against you momentarily before adjusting himself as he slides into your scorching heat. your back arches once more at the sudden intrusion as sylus works on pounding his cock in and out of you.

each time you felt his erection slide back into you, you swore you could feel the way his thick girth kept pressing at your swollen clit, the hedonistic friction of it all making you see stars as you gripped at the sheets. the sounds of your copulation echoes throughout the room, with sylus putting you in various positions that helped with prolonging the pleasure that you felt.

with your flimsy lingerie and sheets stained with the evidence of your lovemaking, you felt yourself reach your breaking point when sylus puts you on your hand and knees, continuously pounding into you from behind while pressing a hand against your aching clit. “that’s it… that’s my good girl… can you give me one more? you can give me another one, right?” his desperate whispers in your ear and the way he bites down against your skin was enough to send you over the edge. you swore that your broken moans could be heard echoing throughout the city with how well sylus was fucking you, making you release yourself onto him.

he stills his hips the moment your walls clench so sinfully around him, hands gripping at your waist so tightly that you were certain it would bruise when you felt him shoot thick ropes of his cum deep within you. unable to form a single coherent thought, you fell back in bed, with sylus still limply connected to you. a thin trail of drool was seen at the corner of your lips, with sylus wiping it away with an amused chuckle.

“rest, love. you’ve also done a magnificent job with spoiling me.” you were dimly aware of his words, now curled up in bed as you fell asleep within his embrace. not tired in the slightest, sylus admires your sleeping form, using the back of his hand to gently caress at your skin.

“i guess i’ll just have to surprise you with that ruby engagement ring when morning comes.” sylus muses to himself while leaning down to press a kiss against your damp hair. he had plans of promising his forever with you tonight, but ended up getting distracted by your wonderful gift for him.

but he wasn’t worried about waiting at all. after all, he had an eternity to spend with you.

end notes: you readers don’t know how sad i was, believing i wouldn’t have a nice christmas fic!? however, after a much needed nap, i was able to make this come true 😭 this is currently unedited, but i’ll make changes when this is posted!! lmao this is why i always keep my works under a readmore ☕️

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

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~

—When a Night Raven College’s housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim al-Asim x gn! Reader

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Riddle Rosehearts

♥️ The Headmage’s speech about True Love’s Kiss echoed in your head. You’d admitted to your friends that you had just a tiny, itty-bitty crush on your beloved Teapot-Tyrant. You didn’t know if he’d ever like you back, even though Ace swore up and down that Riddle gave you special treatment when you, Ace, and Deuce got into trouble (aka gently scolding you while they got collared and yelled at)

♥️ You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, even though you got butterflies every time Riddle personally waited on you during Unbirthday Parties and offered to tutor you when you didn’t understand something. If only you didn’t look away every time you got flustered, then you see the sweet blush on Riddle’s face and the gentle look he’d give you when you were together.

♥️ Now, you stared at the boy in front of you. Your beloved hothead-redhead looked too peaceful to be under a sleeping curse. You deadpanned at Ace and Deuce. “Explain.”

♥️ Apparently, while the two of them were messing around in the botanical gardens, they dropped some draught into Trey’s strawberry plants. And Trey baked the strawberries into a tart for Riddle. It was just your luck that your two beloved idiots had Sleeping Death as their potion.

You rubbed your temples. Deuce held his head in his hands. “The Housewarden will be so furious,” Ace said in a daze. Cater nodded solemnly, tucking his phone away, “your heads’ll be off quicker than you can say Magicam.”

“And they’ll be permanently off if you don’t leave them now.” Trey’s aura made them bustle out of the room, and Cater flashed you a little kissy face before leaving after Trey. You turned back to Riddle, sitting next to him. You gently cupped his cheek, brushing his bangs away from his face.

Even though you wanted to do it so many times before, thought of kissing him made you nervous. Especially when he could never wake up. Still, you leaned forward.

“Please wake up Riddle, I’ll miss you too much” you begged, before gently pressing your lips against his. You lingered there for a few seconds, before gasping and pulling away when you felt him move. Riddle’s eyes were wide open and staring at you, his face growing red. “P-prefect?! What is the meaning of this?!”

You threw your arms around Riddle, who dazedly hugged you back. Ace and Deuce fell through the door, and Cater and Trey rushed in. Deuce grabbed Ace and forced him down, bowing before Riddle, “we’re sorry, Housewarden! It won’t happen again!” Riddle looked at Trey and Cater in confusion, who explained “you were under the Sleeping Curse thanks to these two.”

You felt Riddle tense under you, and you pulled away. You cupped his cheek gently as he grit his teeth, “deal with them later, ok? Just rest,” you kissed his cheek and Riddle’s anger fizzled out as Ace and Deuce ran out of them room. Cater chuckled as he and Trey left, “we’ll leave you two lovebirds!” He sneakily snapped a photo, with you and Riddle wrapped in each others arms gazing at each other. He dm’ed you the photo, #truelove’skiss #finallythesetwoaretogether #getaroom

Azul Ashengrotto

💜 The Mostro Lounge was still running normally thanks to Jade. It seemed that only him and Floyd knew that Azul was under the Sleeping Curse. The entire dorm might revolt against working if they knew their Housewarden was cursed. The thought made you giggle, despite your growing nervousness of your crush being cursed.

💜 It was a long shot that Azul would like you. After all, more often than not you caused a lot of trouble for him. But still, you supposed you did get more discounts than the average student. And Azul did seem more keen on roping you into contracts, but somehow your end of the ‘deal’ wasn’t as harsh as others…

💜As Jade lead you into Azul’s bedroom, you asked what happened. Somehow, one of his edible mushrooms had been watered with Sleeping Death. They were making new dishes for the menu, and Azul accidentally ate it. You supposed they knew who spilled the potion into Jade’s precious mushrooms - you saw Ace and Deuce being worked to the bone in the kitchens.

💜“I’ll leave you two,” Jade looked worried when you first arrived, but somehow he looked amused as shut the door.

In the watery lighting of Azul’s room, the quietness felt loud as you remembered the Headmage’s words. You had to kiss him. He was your true love. You brushed Azul’s hair from his face, “are you?” You wondered out loud.

For a while, you tried to squash the growing feelings you had for him. But you couldn’t help but get flustered when he smiled so charmingly at you. And the way he’d offer you anything, anything Prefect please accept this, probably in a guilty attempt to ‘repay’ you. But deep down, you knew there was only one way you wanted him to repay you.

Despite yourself, you felt a lump in your throat as you watched Azul sleep. You grit your teeth. “You can put me in any contract you want. Whatever the price for this is, I-I’ll pay it,” you bit your lip, “just wake up, Azul.” And you pressed your lips to his before you could back down.

You couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat loud in your ears, as you watched his chest move upwards while he breathed in deeply. His eyes snapped open, and immediately he focused on you, albeit blurry. Still, he could recognize you anywhere.

“Prefect?” Azul’s voice was raspy, and he frantically felt the nightstand for his glasses, “wh-what are you doing here?!” Your mouth flopped open but no sound came out. You stared at each other as Azul shoved his glasses on his face while scrambling to sit up. “A-AZUL!” You said too loudly, “you’re awake!” You both probably would’ve stayed there, staring, for the rest of the year when the door slammed open.

“Azuuuul~” Floyd ran in. “Guess ya finally woke up~ ” Jade sauntered in, and you could see relief in his face. “Yes,” Jade smirked at Azul, “it’s a good thing Prefect was here, isn’t it?”

Azul turned pink, and mercifully the twins seemed to think he’d had enough. They looked at each other with a grin, and excused themselves. You found yourself smiling shyly at Azul. “Are you feeling okay?” Azul seemed spaced out, but he snapped back to focus on you. He gulped.

“On account that you’re my… true love,” Azul took a deep breath, “perhaps you’d like to sign a contract now?”

Kalim al-Asim

🧡 The Headmage had barely said anything before Jamil slammed down your door and grabbed your wrist, hauling you straight to Scarabia. You’d never seen Jamil so stressed, ever. Crowley promptly abandoned you, wailing that he had to “go appease the parents.”

🧡 You could at least see why he was upset. The al-Asim’s were no regular family, after all. And neither was Kalim. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought. Bright, bubbly Kalim laying in bed under the Sleeping Curse. It didn’t matter how rich he was, how could someone do that to him?

🧡 Maybe it was because of how everyone at NRC was, but you’d come to appreciate Kalim. It wasn’t a stretch to say you enjoyed his company - whether it was him dragging you out on midnight carpet rides, or out to a party. His smile made the chaos bearable.

🧡 You never hid how happy he made you, especially so during his parties. Kalim always made sure to play your favorite songs, but you never noticed his smile widen when he saw you dance. You always looked so carefree, like a bird in flight. He always beamed when he got you to relax and have fun.

Jamil wasted no time dropping you off at Kalim’s room. “Just… please, I-” He swallowed thickly, before nodding at you. “I’ll leave you be.” He closed the door, and you slowly made your way to Kalim. He was laying among a dozen pillows, the with a few rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. You sighed and sat next to him.

Scarabia felt downright somber without the sunniness of their Housewarden. Kalim’s usually smiling face was now devoid of any emotion. It bothered you more than you thought, to see Kalim with a neutral expression. You idly twisted a lock of his hair. The air felt thick without him to lighten the mood.

You didn’t want to think about never seeing Kalim again. Ever. “The dorm feels empty without you, Kalim,” you gently stroked his cheek, begging “you have to wake up to make it come back to life.” Softly you kissed him, closing your eyes tightly. You hovered there for a second, and pulled away with a gasp when you felt movement.

Kalim began stretching, still laying on the bed. “Mmh? Prefect?” he sat up with a small yawn, “What are you doing here?” He suddenly gasped, ruby eyes brightening. “Did we have a sleepover?! I totally forgot!”

You burst into laughter, feeling your eyes grow wet. You launched yourself at Kalim, both of you falling back onto the bed. Kalim hugged you back tightly, “Huh? What’s this about? Don’t cry, Prefect - I’m here!”

—————

I finally got some free time so here’s the fic three months late oops

Thanks for reading!!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed 😄 the rest of the housewardens should be posted soon!

Take care shrimpies~ ✨ calci

[nodoubtily]

Look at me…

Warnings:: SMUT (I’m not going to say MDNI considering I used to read these all the time when I was a minor), possessiveness if you squint, dirty talk, begging, crude language, just missionary, spit/spitting, talks of pregnancy as a form of dirty talk, squirting, hickies, unprotected sex (DONT BE SILLY, WRAP YOUR WILLY.) SoftDom!Niki x WhinyFem!Reader, Niki IS an adult and if you disagree then you can fuck right off with your delusions. Proofread!

“Oh, fuck-“ it comes out in a choked gasp as you slowly take Niki all the way, him slowly driving his cock deep inside you. “S-so…full-“ you say with difficulty, as you rake your hands down his bare back. He sucks in through his teeth when he bottoms out. Niki leans lower, large hands gently brushing hair off your face as you take deep breaths, taking time to take his fat cock. “Nice and full. You’re so good to me, baby.” He gently kisses you, rocking his hips gently to replace the pain with pleasure, which he does with ease. “So tight, all f’me, yeah?” “Yeah.” You whine out, “All…yours.” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

With time, Niki speeds up, to the point his hips are mercilessly hammering into your sopping pussy, rambling. “Fuck, baby. Keep looking at me, wanna see you fucking cum. Oh shit, shit shit.” Niki grinds against you, your clit coming into contact with his public bone as he grinds up messily against you. “Need you to cum in me, baby. Please, god I need this so- fuck!” You’re too far gone, only being able to take his sticky sloppiness as he pounds into oblivion, the smell of sweat and pure sex fogging the room. “Take it. Take-this-fucking-“ every word is followed by a hard thrust. “Dick, oh shit- I’m gonna cum.” He whines out, sending signals straight to your clit. Your legs wrap and lock around his waist, keeping him where you both want him to be. “Give it to me, baby. Give it to me.” You feel yet another orgasm rushing straight from your clit to your stomach, the band winding so tightly that you’re slightly scared for it to snap. “Gonna cum inside, give you my fucking babies and make you a mama. Fuck-“ a guttural whine escapes from his chest, awakening a form of feral-ness you didn’t know you held. You’re cunt is begging him to make that noise again, pussy throbbing, tightening around Niki’s big dick. “Fuck!” He moans again with a snap of his hips. “You just got so fucking tight then.” His pace becomes irregular, begging to cum because it hurts. “Don’t take your fucking eyes off me. Take my fucking dick while you look in my eyes.” His hands hold the side of your face, holding your head so you can only stare back up at him in a lustful gaze. Niki thinks you look so heavenly sinful with your hair ruffled, lips swollen and pink, covered in his spit as he drops globs of saliva into your mouth, neck adorned with dark crimson bruises. “I’m going to cum again.” You announce; your hips raising, inviting a new angle as you brace for an orgasm that feels weirder, almost like you need to pee. “Wait, baby-this feels diff- ohhhh shit.” Your orgasm rushes to you, a very powerful, delicious orgasm as you squirt everywhere, having it land mostly on Niki’s abs and pubic bone. He sits up, so he’s resting on his knees as he stares at your pussy in nothing that could’ve been mistaken for awe. “Baby girl just squirted all over-me. Fuck!” Niki’s hips speed really quickly until they completely come to a halt, a chest-heaving whine leaving his swollen, wet, bleeding lips caused by immense lip biting. “Good girl, oh good girl.”

THIS SMUT IDEA WAS GIVEN FROM A SMUT AUDIO OF NIKI! When I find the creator I’ll tag them. They start with ‘Yucky’.

UPDATE:// the creator I got this idea off of’s user is in my comments, under the helpful user who helped me remember. Please, check out both creators!

[poguelandiarafe]

broken promises 3 | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x female reader

warnings - angst, mature language, mentions of infidelity

summary - rafe finds you on the beach and begs for forgiveness but your pain is too raw to think about forgiving him. he's promising to do better for you and the baby but you reject his apologies, leaving him alone in the sand.

(sorry the last two chapters are so short, i'm trying to figure out which direction to take the series in. please please please (hey sabrina) message me or comment your thoughts and ideas!)

not a one-shot, read part one and part two here <3

masterlist

————

“leave me alone, rafe. i don’t want to talk to you.”

you're impressed with yourself, nearly expecting your arms to automatically open wide and accept him back just like that. but they don't, they stay firmly wrapped around yourself and as much as it pains you to realise, you don't want them around him anymore.

rafe runs a hand over his head, a frustrated sigh falling past his lips. he's been driving for hours and you won't even give him the time of day. taking cautious steps, he slowly approaches you until he's standing in front of you.

when you don't react, he kneels down in front of you and places a hesitant hand on your hip. his fingers barely graze your skin before you're quick to grab his hand and throw it off you. the feeling of his skin on yours is too much for you to handle. though your heart and body yearns to be wrapped up in his arms again, your mind is just about strong enough to not allow it to happen.

"let me explain, baby, please." he begs, his voice cracking.

"i said leave me alone," you sigh, yet you can feel your anger bubbling just beneath the surface, "there's nothing to explain."

you already know what he'll say - pathetic excuses and apologies about how much he messed up and that he regrets it. words you can't let yourself be fooled by.

rafe's shoulders sag as the words reach his ears. his hand slowly raises to grab your hip before he drops it back to his side in defeat. he's never felt so helpless before and he hates it. having you so close yet completely out of reach makes his heart ache in a way he never thought possible.

"you don't mean that, we can't end it like this," he whispers, voice thick with emotion as he looks up at you through wet lashes, "there must be something i can do. i'll do anything. i'll wait for you, i'll give you space. i'll do it for you and for our baby. i promise, y/n."

you refuse to look at him, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the ocean, willing yourself not to cry. his stare is burning into your skin and the faintest trace of forgiveness he's looking for from you is nowhere to be seen.

rafe stays kneeling in front of you, never taking his eyes off your face, searching for a crack in your amour. he's trying to maintain his composure, but his breathing is laboured and he's desperately blinking away the tears that blur his vision.

"no. i mean it, rafe. i need you to leave me alone." you say firmly, the words sharp, "i don't want you to wait. i won't stop you from being involved with the baby, but i don't want you to wait for me because i can't be with you anymore. i can't forgive you."

every part of you screams to walk away and never look back, to let him face the consequences of his actions alone. however, your feet remain rooted to the spot, as if a part of you is silently willing rafe to beg harder to fix this, even though you know it wouldn't change anything.

"you don't mean that," he says softly, "you still love me, i know you do. please, just tell me what to do to fix this."

"you shouldn't have to ask me how to fix this. and i do still love you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "but i don't trust you, rafe. you've made your bed. now, lie in it."

for a split second, you think he's going to argue. his lips part to say something but the words never make it past them. so, before you can change your mind, you turn on your heel and quickly walk over to your car, each step feeling heavier than the last. you don't look back, even when you hear him choke out a broken plea. behind you, rafe stays kneeling in the sand, watching as you walk further and further out of his life.

once you reach the car, you let out a trembling breath and attempt to compose yourself. sliding into the driver's seat, the jagged edges of your keys dig into your palm and you squeeze them tighter, as if turning your emotional pain into physical pain will somehow help. for a moment, you just sit and stare, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you.

a few minutes pass before you start the car, and the last thing you see before driving off is rafe sitting in the sand with his head in his hands and knees pulled up to his chest. the thought of going back crosses your mind and you force yourself to look away, to focus on the road instead. you don't know where you're going, only that you can't go home.

taglist: @hellothere7 @faephoria @xcinnamonmalfoyx @samwinchesterisawhore @alyisdead @maybankslover @vdotcom @kundaquarius @lil-sparklqueen @flvredcas @esquivelbianca @pillowprincess4him @mariadu2 @suyqa @sexy123s-s @inmyowndefender @dreamygirli3 @aesthetic-lyss @gorgeouscgirl

[luvs4matt]

I’m not trying to rush u, but when is soaked part 5 gonna happen 😭 I dying to what happened next

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 , 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟓 ✿ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

“oh baby.. is daddy makin’ your mind all fuzzy? huh?”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - dilf!matt x subby!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which, when matt witnesses reader letting someone flirt with her, he has no choice but to remind her who she belongs to.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - SMUT 18+, daddy kink, sir kink, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cow girl, praise, breeding, size kink, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, princess, good girls, sweet girl, angel, babe, bunny)

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐂𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 vulnerable, all by yourself. you find your way to your feet, running out of the bedroom. thank god lilly wasn’t home, because if she was, if she walked out of her bedroom, she would see you completely naked running around.

you finally found matt in the kitchen; you ran up to him and dug your face into his shoulder “matty.. m’sorry” tears start to well in your eyes, why would he leave you there like that? “yeah? y’gonna stop bein’ bad an’ lying, sayin’ that i’m mean when i have been so much nicer than i should’ve been after how you acted”

you nod “yes sir, i promise” he chuckles “you promise, huh?” you hummed as you nodded “well, then we should get my sweet girl out of the handcuffs, yeah?” you nodded again “please.. they are starting to hurt..” before he left the bedroom, he had put on a pair of sweatpants, and brought the key with him.

he turned you around as he grabbed the key from his pocket “there you go baby”

“thank you” he grabbed your waist “you wanna take your plug out too princess?”

“yes” he nodded “okay, just bend over the counter, alright?” you did just as he said, bending over the counter. you winced as he pulled it out “i know it hurts baby, m’sorry” he hugged you from behind before leaving kisses down your neck “need you matty..” he smirks “yeah?”

“mhm” you grind yourself back onto him “you think i teased you enough already tonight? hm?”

“yes sir” he turns you back around, placing his lips on yours. you were desperate, you tried to deepen the kiss but he pulled away “no baby, be patient. try it again and i’ll put you back in your cuffs”

“m’sorry” he kissed you again, this time, you moved at his pace. he lifted you onto the counter, never separating your lips. you gasp as you feel his fingers slowly trace up your thigh, he smiled “mm.. so sensitive” you let out a quiet whine, desperate for more attention.

“don’t worry princess, daddy’ll touch you soon, okay?” you nodded “okay.. just please don’t make it too long” he chuckles at your neediness “i won’t baby.. i won’t” he smiles as he kisses you.

he lifts you from the counter, bringing you to the couch. he sits you on top of him, allowing you to be on his lap “gon’ ride me honey?” you hummed “c’mon.. we’ve been working so hard on using our words, use ‘em” you rolled your hips against his bulge “yes sir, m’gonna ride you”

“good girl” you whimpered as you continued grinding on him “take my pants off sweet girl” you did as he said before getting back on top of him “can i now daddy?”

“go ahead angel” you line up your hole with his tip, he holds your waist as you sink down onto him. you struggled, his dick already so deep inside. it feels deeper with you being on top “need help babe?”

“yes.. please help me.. so deep..” he pushes you down until you have taken him all “see, you can do it” you sat there for a minute, in his arms, letting yourself get used to his size. no matter how many times you have sex, you’ve never got used to his size.

matt uses the grip on your waist to roll your hips, the sudden movements making you whimper “f- feels good..” he removes one hand from your waist, using it to hold your face “yeah?” you start to move yourself, bouncing on his cock.

you forgot all pain you were experiencing when he brought your face to his, your lips colliding together “just the prettiest little lips” he mumbled against you. you whined as he deepened the kiss.

you gasp as he suddenly starts thrusting up into you, you moan as he hits all of your spots “my good girl.. taking it so well” he bites his lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure “always- fuck- always take my dick like a fuckin’ champ, don’t you princess?”

you can’t comprehend what he is saying, you just know that you feel so good “oh baby..” his voice was laced with faux sympathy “is daddy makin’ your mind all fuzzy? huh?” your eyes rolled back. matt was right, your mind is all fuzzy, but you didn’t know he was right, you had no idea what he just said.

he brought you back into reality with a few taps on your cheek “i- huh?” he smiled “you’re so adorable.. you can’t even think straight” you couldn’t form a sentence, the pleasure was just so overwhelming “cum?” he wasn’t going to make you work for it this time “cum baby”

a loud moan erupted from your throat as you came around his cock hard “daddy’s close honey, it’s almost over” you whined in overstimulation “squeezin’ me so tight” he groaned.

as he was building his orgasm, he was also building your second one. “gonna cum with me sweetheart?” you frantically nodded.

he thrusted a few more times before he shot his load into you, triggering your orgasm “daddy!” he rides out your highs before you cradle yourself into him, allowing him to hold you, running his hands up and down your back “good bunny.. good bunny”

© luvs4matt

a/n - a little christmas present for you guys 💋💋

[0omillo0]

Felix angst/comfort (you can use this for the clingy series) where Felix feels the constant need to spend time with Y/N ( also rip this hits home for me) and Y/N is, for the first time in their life, not clingy. Like Felix perceives their actions as clingy but in their mind they feels free and as least clingy as they’ve ever been. And then Felix does the whole calls them clingy. And they have to take a moment because they, for once, felt so confident in themselves that they weren’t being clingy, and now they are second guessing themselves. (This is weirdly personal, I’ve been here before, please give mega angst but even more comfort)

Calling you clingy

Felix x Reader ; angst -> comfort

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! merry christmas loves

Felix had always been a gentle, steady presence in your life—a warmth you could lean into when the world felt cold. His kindness had a way of pulling you out of your head, grounding you when your insecurities threatened to take over. You loved him for it.

But lately, his warmth felt different. He’d been clinging to you in ways you didn’t recognize, filling the spaces between your conversations with a soft desperation. He was more insistent on spending time together—seeking you out even when you felt perfectly fine sitting in your solitude.

At first, it was easy to brush off. Felix was affectionate by nature, and you’d always loved that about him. But when his gentle invitations turned into subtle comments—“Oh, you’re busy again?”—and his eyes lingered on you just a beat too long, you felt a weight you couldn’t explain.

It hurt, because for the first time in your life, you weren’t chasing validation. You weren’t battling the constant fear of being too much. Instead, you’d been reclaiming a sense of independence—spending time with yourself and learning to love the quiet.

You had felt proud. Free. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to text Felix every hour or overthink every interaction. And it had been working. The days felt lighter, and you believed you were finding a balance between nurturing your relationship with him and nurturing yourself.

And yet, tonight unraveled everything.

“Hey,” Felix called softly, pulling your attention away from the pile of papers on your desk.

The sound of his voice was cautious, hesitant, and you immediately turned to face him. “Yeah?” you asked, a small smile on your face. “What’s up?”

Felix shifted in place, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. He looked like a boy on the verge of confessing something he thought would ruin everything. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course.” You set down your pen, turning your full attention to him.

His gaze dropped, and you noticed the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Do you think… maybe you’ve been a little clingy lately?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

Clingy?

Your heart sank, the air leaving your lungs in an instant. The weight of his question crashed into you, heavy and suffocating, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around you. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice small and disbelieving.

He nodded, wincing slightly as if bracing for backlash. “I mean… you’re always around. You always want to hang out, and I love being with you—I do. But sometimes I feel like…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to soften the blow.

“Like I’m suffocating you,” you finished for him, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“No!” Felix said quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need a little space sometimes. And I don’t want you to take that the wrong way.”

But how else could you take it? You stared at him, your stomach twisting violently. His words felt like a knife turning in an old wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

Clingy.

That label had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It was the word that stuck to you like a shadow, the fear that kept you second-guessing every relationship, every friendship. But you had worked so hard to overcome it. You’d been careful—so careful—to give Felix the space he deserved while finally giving yourself the freedom to breathe.

And now, the one person who made you feel safe had torn that progress apart.

“Felix…” you started, your voice trembling. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be clingy. Like… so hard.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been holding back,” you said, the words tumbling out in a bitter rush. “I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t been texting you constantly, or asking to hang out every second, or freaking out if I don’t hear from you for a while. I thought I was finally getting it right.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, trying to rein in the tears that threatened to spill.

Felix’s expression shifted, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. “Y/N…”

“But I guess even when I think I’m doing better, it’s still not enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Felix said, stepping forward. His face crumpled with regret as he reached for you. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, stepping back out of his reach. Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to steady your breath. “I get it. You need space. I’ll give you your space.”

“No, Y/N, don’t do that,” Felix said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t—”

“I just need a minute, okay?” you said quickly, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix standing there with his heart in his throat.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence of your room felt deafening. You sank onto your bed, your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t answer.

Had you been too much? Had you failed to notice something you should have?

You replayed every interaction in your head, dissecting your choices and second-guessing the progress you’d been so proud of.

Meanwhile, Felix sat outside your door, his knees pulled to his chest. His head was heavy in his hands, guilt eating away at him with every passing second. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say those words—words that clearly cut you so deeply.

Finally, he knocked softly, his voice trembling. “Y/N?”

There was no response.

“Please,” he tried again, his throat tight. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me in.”

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing your tear-streaked face. Felix’s heart broke all over again. Without a second thought, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how hard you’d been trying… and I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”

You stiffened slightly in his arms. “Scared?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me as much anymore. And I know that’s selfish, but it made me panic. I thought maybe you were pulling away because you didn’t want to be around me.”

His words sank in slowly, and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Felix… I wasn’t pulling away. I was trying to find a balance. For me. For us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I ruined it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re not clingy. You’re amazing, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

His sincerity broke through your walls, and you leaned into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort you. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you murmured.

“You won’t,” Felix promised, holding you tighter. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen better. And I’ll never call you clingy again. I swear.”

You stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, the steady beat of his heart grounding you as the ache in your chest slowly began to ease. Felix didn’t let go, his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his breath warm against your hair. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I messed up. I didn’t realize how much you’d been trying, and instead of supporting you, I let my own fears get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening with every word. “You really thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

He nodded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was filled with regret, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I got scared. You seemed so confident, so… happy on your own. And I thought maybe I was the only one who still needed us as much as I do.”

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “Felix, I need us. I always have. I just…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I needed to know I could stand on my own too. Not because I don’t love you, but because I wanted to be better for you. For both of us.”

His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “You are better, Y/N. You’re amazing. And I should have told you that instead of making you feel like… like this.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Felix was quick to catch it, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t think you realize how much I look up to you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so strong, and I’m… I’m so proud of you. I hate that I made you second-guess yourself.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you leaned into his hand, letting yourself feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. “You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Every word,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve been so brave, Y/N. I see it. And I’ll spend every day reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes to make up for tonight.”

For the first time that night, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. The sting of his earlier words lingered, but his apology—his love—was genuine.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Felix. Just… promise me we’ll talk next time, okay? No more letting things fester.”

He nodded quickly, his lips twitching into a faint, relieved smile. “I promise. I’ll do better. No more keeping things to myself. And no more calling you clingy. Ever.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Good. Because that word is banned forever.”

“Forever,” Felix agreed, a playful light returning to his eyes. He shifted, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’re not clingy, Y/N. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. For the first time in hours, you felt truly at ease.

Later that night, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the tension of the evening a distant memory. Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as the quiet hum of a movie played in the background.

“Y/N?” he murmured after a while, his voice soft and contemplative.

“Yeah?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink as the words left his mouth.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Felix.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said gently, resting your hand over his. “We’ll figure it all out. Together.”

Felix’s arms tightened around you, his lips curving into a soft smile against your skin. “Together,” he echoed, and in that moment, you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t doubting your place in his life or worrying about being too much. Felix’s love wrapped around you like a promise—a reassurance that you didn’t have to change to be enough.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[vaaaaaiolet]

Your seasonally available secret-agent roommate got too into the holiday punch this year, and he's bursting with a secret you're not too keen on coming to terms with.

secret santa fic for @crsssie!! roommates + mistletoe + one serving of cuddling <3

HUGE thank you for setting up Leon Secret Santa 2024 and a HUGER apology for messing up the time 😭 i love you LOADS cressie and i hope this fic has banter that lives up to the wonderful dialogue in your fics <3 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

gn / m, romance, fluff, BANTER, leon is SO BAD at feelings, roommates au, angst / slight miscommunication trope + drunken confessions, close your eyes and ignore canon for me <3 no mention of pronouns but reader has bobby pins in their hair cw: alcohol / drunkenness

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

“Shit, I didn’t-”

“Open your eyes, Leon! You’re going to fall, just hold on to me, we’re almost-”

“...don’t need you to,” he slurs, “I got it!”

Leon, of course, has got nothing at all besides shitfaced drunk. Your key is currently deciding not to fit into the convoluted lock he’d decided was absolutely necessary for your shared apartment. It was something about you having the fighting talent of a bedbound sloth (completely subjective opinion, you’d argued) and him being out of the country every few weeks.

The snow must’ve frozen it over while you two were out tonight, and between shouldering 165 pounds of muscle mass while manifesting a bobby pin into existence from your now-bedraggled hairdo to work into the keyhole, the start of Christmas Day is starting to look like Mission Impossible. 

“Don’t make this harder for me,” you plead to both your problems. 

The lock seems to be the only one to listen. Please, please – yes! The mahogany door to the apartment swings open, and you shoulder in your precious cargo, tracking snow all over the floor that’s sure to melt into sludge come morning. Luckily, the chore chart’s on your side tomorrow: Leon’s due for mopping. 

Once he wakes up from his alcohol induced nap, that is. And then you’ll have your fun. 

You deposit him on the couch faster than your paycheck, and your lungs inflate three sizes once his back makes contact with the cushions. “God, you’re heavy,” you pant, wiping your forehead.

“‘Cause you don’t go to the gym with me. Gotta get stronger.”

“I’ll quit my job and get buff once you start paying more than a third of the rent, yeah?”

Leon snorts. “‘m only here a third of the time anyway,” he says under his breath. 

He’s right, of course. The rent split was your idea, fair and square. But you pretend he isn’t. Pretend that it doesn’t hurt, either, like his punches when he tries to teach you self-defense whenever he’s free.

A cherub ornament must’ve fallen from the Christmas tree in the kitchen and crashed on your couch. Frosty blue eyes flutter open to gaze up at you from the cushions. There’s roses in Leon’s pale cheeks, flushed from the outdoors combined with him drinking his head off tonight, and when a wistful, angelic expression spreads across his face, you wish the snowstorm outside would’ve frozen over your heart instead of the door lock. 

He crooks a finger at you. Whispers like it hurts him, “Got somethin’ to tell ya.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“‘s goddamn freezing in here.”

Unbelievable. You throw a couch cushion at his chest and he has the nerve to giggle while you stomp away to shut the front door. “You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, Leon, what were you thinking?” you scold the subzero air. 

“I can handle my drinks!” he shouts back.

“Then why are you passed out on my couch?”

And despite having your back to him almost ten feet away, you can practically hear his brow scrunch at your words. “Thought it was our couch.”

You wave a flippant hand. “You know what I mean.”

“But you’re right,” he barks out a laugh. “Should be yours. All of it, I…I shouldn’t be here.”

He might be the one drunk tonight, but you’re the one feeling that telltale nausea all of a sudden. Leon’s laugh never makes your stomach roil like this. Screw all the little catches and springs – you twist the biggest one on the door’s lock closed and power walk back to the living room, taking a kneel on the couch next to Leon’s head. He’s turned to the other side now, broad back facing you. Tit for tat. 

“What are you talking about?” Digging your fingers into his right delt, you pry him back to look him in the eye, barely keeping the alarm out of your voice. 

“Uh, coins. Lotsa coins in the couch.” Leon fishes out a dime, shoots you a plastic excuse of a smile like you were born yesterday, “Yours?”

You shake his shoulder. “Don’t play dumb with me, come on. What did you say about you not being here?” 

“Mistletoe too, so much stuff in here…” 

You don’t even spare it a second glance, snatching the sprig out of his fingers. “What’s going on?” you ask, voice trembling. 

Because truth be told, security obsession and his pain-in-the-ass work schedule besides, you really can’t imagine living with anyone else. 

It’s been a year with Leon, your mysterious government agent roommate, the one who you’d spent nights hunched over the kitchen counter with corner store ramen. You’d gripe over your shitty coworkers, he’d threaten to tear them each a new one, and you’d half-pretend to beg him not to. And then you’d both couch surf until the sunrise, with you ending up cuddling into his chest and magically tucked into bed the next morning with your share of the chores done before Leon left for the day.

Leon’s shoulder was always there for you to cry on after failed first dates. It was the one favor you couldn’t pay back in kind; the man seemed to have zero interest in dating with a curious tendency to grow quiet whenever the question got brought up. But for him, you kept your first aid kit stocked. You’ve lost count of how many times you’d stayed up past two AM cleaning his cuts and icing his bruises upon his return home. 

It was a shared agreement. He kept his secrets, you got a built-in best friend. Or at least you thought you did before now.

Your throat stings. “Is this why you drank so much? You didn’t have the guts to tell me you hate living together?” You crumple the hem of his sweater in your fist.

The faraway look in Leon’s eyes clears instantaneously once he registers what’s starting to spill down your cheeks. 

Your next demand comes out riddled with cracks. “You have to be h-honest, Leon, promise me. Why don’t you want to stay?”

“Then you’ll stop crying?” 

Leon’s hands clumsily drift up to cup your cheeks, but the world’s gone full snowglobe through your haze of tears. You don’t pay them any mind, nodding fervently. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. 

You smell the mulled wine in his breath. Your holiday once-favorite, sweet and and now sickening. You’re a bruised peach, frostbitten and smashed under his Timberlands. Leon had it all wrong; it wasn’t the front door that needed to be padlocked, it was your stupid heart and the creeping realization that you’d tried to stave off with all those horrible dates and more excuses to fall asleep in his arms. 

The thing Leon did get right, though, was that you had no fighting chance. How could you let him break his way so completely into your life? He wasn’t even here half the time and here you are, fighting the clock to greet him home like he even wanted you there. 

You shake your head, interrupting the thumbs trying to wipe away your tears. “That’s fine. Yeah. Totally fine,” you sniffle, putting on your customer service brave face.

“No,” Leon frowns. 

“If I’m such a horrible roommate, we can sto-”

“No,” he repeats firmly. “Don’t…ugh,” he claps a hand to his forehead, the alcohol headache hot on his heels. 

“Don’t what?” you cry.

“Not helping,” Leon grits.

“Sorry for being sad that I’ll miss my best friend? I don’t know what you want me to-”

There’s a sharp pull on your wrist. With an exasperated sigh, Leon lifts the fist at your side with the sprig of mistletoe still in it above your head. You get one, maybe two seconds to wonder how he remembered it was there before his lips collide with yours, his calloused palm guiding your cheek towards his cherry-flavored mouth. The wind knocks out of you – more than that time you dared him to throw you over his shoulder.

The mistletoe falls out of your fingers. Leon’s thumb brushes the last tear out of the corner of your eye and mulled wine becomes your favorite again.

“Didn’t have the guts to say I liked ya,” he mumbles, and your heart skips. Leon’s smiling. 

“You’d rather move out than admit you like me?” you tease, breathless, arms circling around his neck the way they always do when he princess carries you. 

“Sweetheart, y’know me.”

And yeah, you do. Nobody else does quite like you.

“Stupid.” You let him kiss you a moment more before pulling away; you can’t help that his frowny face is your favorite expression on him when he’s drunk. “And you know what happens when you pull stupid stunts like that?”

Leon blinks at you, the consequences of bad backflipping flashing through his head. “Don’t want plunger duty!” he groans, flopping back onto the couch.

He’ll be wishing the toilet rats a Merry Christmas, poor guy. Your guy. You’ll just have to wait to cuddle him after he takes an hour-long shower.

@leonsecretsanta MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!! link to my masterlist lol

dividers by @/strangergraphics!