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f1byjessie · 7 months

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SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.

being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.

( fernando alonso x wife!reader )

━━ one shot.

When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.

“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”

She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”

She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.

“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”

You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.

She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.

She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.

When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.

It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.

You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.

But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.

Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.

The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.

You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.

There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.

“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”

Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”

You frown, “I guess I don’t.”

“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”

The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.

Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.

“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”

Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.

“She used to call me her little angel…”

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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.

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user that looks delicious!!

user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍

↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing

↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite

user così carino!! ❤️❤️

user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳

user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly

↳ user FELT THIS OMG

user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶

user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???

↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩

↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all

↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races

↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔

↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???

user this is gorgeous

user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️

↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛

↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛

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yourusername arrivederci 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛

user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife

↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃

↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this

↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him

user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy

↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL

user when will he return from the war…

↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??

↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think

↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭

user mama y papa

user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for

user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀

↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷‍♀️

user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet

↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀

↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀

↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend

Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.

The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.

You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.

You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.

It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.

Alone.

As you have been for the last few weeks now.

Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.

There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.

And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.

Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.

But that’s the way of things.

You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.

It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.

“Fernando?”

“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”

You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.

“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”

“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.

Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.

“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.

You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.

“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.

You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”

“What has happened?”

“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”

Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.

“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”

“Ti amo, marito mio.”

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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife

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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only

yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶

↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔

astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job

↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.

user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭

user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠

↳ user real

user why is the first one so cute??

user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it

↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??

↳ user no????

↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him

↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂

↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀

↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone

↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood

user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now

user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS

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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.

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yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛

↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most

user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩

user guys he’s the blueprint

↳ user she’s so lucky

user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????

user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳

↳ user they’re such a power couple

↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at

↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔

↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags

user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife

↳ user i think i would cease to exist

user cuando es mi turno 😭

Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.

Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.

He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.

He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.

But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.

Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.

“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”

All she does is sigh.

The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.

Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.

“Go home,” she orders.

You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”

“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”

You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.

“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”

“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.

You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.

Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.

Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.

There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.

“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.

You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.

You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”

Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.

He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.

He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.

“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.

He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”

“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.

“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.

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yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛

↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita

user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES

↳ user oh my days 🫢

↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute

user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be

user WAR IS OVER

user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need

user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY

↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid

↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount

lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow

↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre

↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷‍♂️

↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man

↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206

━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fa14 #lance stroll

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 10 months

Text

Ramshackle Family PowerPoint Night Slumber Party Headcanons

Masterlist

Bonus: First years

Sleepovers at Ramshackle are common but one day you decided to spice things up by having a powerpoint night party

You told Ace and Deuce your idea on Monday so that they had enough time to prepare for Friday.

The party begins in the afternoon and the three of you start baking all sorts of treats in the kitchen like cookies and brownies before you get changed into your pyjamas

Deuce:

His are really simple but bless him he worked so hard

He gets super into his and gets all animated and excited

He loves it when you ask questions

His slides are very neat, like one or two bullet points at most with a few pictures. He uses a baby blue background with standard black text.

“I didn’t want to make it hard to read” ♡

Ace:

Ace is what happens when a primary schooler is introduced to powerpoint for the first time

Every single transition and animation is used. He uses those cool font sites to make gif fonts that are going on every slide. It looks like a party popper exploded all over it. Each slide is a different garish colour. ‘Body text’? What’s that? Word art and word art only is his text

His presentations are either typical meme stuff like playing smash or pass with smash bros. characters or they’re the saltiest roasts you’ve ever heard

Yes, the last one was specifically made for you. He loves you dearly and has noticed that you’ve been on the receiving end of many a wandering eye. Prefect, you could do so much better

Grim

Since he’s baby™ he can’t make a powerpoint so he just has a whiteboard with the words ‘BUY ME MORE TUNA’ scribbled on

I’m not going to do the reader’s slides to make it more general but when it’s your turn to present you bet that it would be dead silent. If Ace so much as coughs, Deuce is decking him with a pillow.

After powerpoint night has ended, you play other games like those random Kahoot quizzes, charades with the ghosts, board and card games etc.

You even assemble a blanket fort that takes half an hour longer because of a pillow fight Ace instigated

You all decide to do it again next week

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade

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ohtobeleah · 11 months

Text

Scream // Jake Seresin

🔪 Summary: When home alone on Halloween Eve, someone keeps calling you from an unknown number. As fear begins to consume you and panic builds as you run for your life, the masked stranger really takes advantage of the pretty girl he’s decided to hunt down.

🔪 Warnings: Mask kink, CNC (consensual non-consent) knife play, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), choking, hair pulling, dirty talk, degradation, creampie, rough sex. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Ghost Face likeness/cosplay.

🔪 Word Count: 7.6k

🔪 Author Note: Happy Halloween ya filthy animals. Hope you enjoy this X-rated Ohtobeleah Halloween Special! Concepts are open for this one too! Especially with that ending….

Spooky season. It had to be your favourite time of year. The fall brought so many changes and flavours and aesthetics you just couldn’t resist. From the pumpkin spiced everything’s to the burnt embers and oranges that littered the trees that lined the sidewalks. To the overconsumption of old Halloween classics and seasonal house decor that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Halloween was and always would be, yourself favourite holiday, and for that you thanked the pagans for their belief system many centuries ago. Without them? Why else would you have an excuse to sit in your living room with what felt like an endless supply of single wrapped sweets and chocolates that you should very well have been saving for the trick or treaters that would be roaming the streets of suburban Texas the following night.

“Is that how you wanna spend your summer?” You’d seen IT probably a million times before, but it was always a good start. “Inside of an arcade?” Eddie Kaspbrak asked little Richie Tozier as you popped another Reese's peanut butter cup into your mouth.

“Beats spending it inside your mother.” You couldn’t help but to say the line out loud knowing exactly what comeback was coming around the corner. Like clockwork little Richie said the same thing he always said and you laughed like an adolescent. Yeah, the IT Saga was always a good place to start before moving into the Halloween Collection and Scream Series.

You were what some would call ‘Basic’ But to you basic was better than being overly ambitious and lacking in complete pop culture appreciation for the movies that were, in your very not so professional opinion, the backbone of the spooky season film industry.

In need of another glass of Prosecco or perhaps something a little stronger and gin based, you made your way into the kitchen after you’d paused your movie. The house smells of cinnamon and pumpkin, there was no escape from the ever present and consuming aroma of fall as you took a moment to decide if you were going to finish that bottle of Prosecco or move on to the big boys. The gin sours. After all, you were home all alone on Halloween Eve and there was nothing stopping you from getting a little tipsy in the quiet and comfortable silence of your humble abode.

Even your Flyboy boyfriend, Jake Seresin, wasn’t coming home. The original plan had been he was taking some much needed leave to come home and spend two full weeks back in the arms of the woman he loved so dearly. But things changed, life happened, and all of a sudden you were facing the reality that you would be alone for the Halloween holiday head on.

You couldn’t blame him, it was just the way the job went sometimes. Things came up, plans changed overnight and soon enough, four entire months had passed since you’d last seen Lieutenant Commander Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, or as he was more affectionately known to you as, Flyboy.

It was just the way the pumpkin spiced cookie crumbled this time around, but Jake had promised the minute Robert Floyd was back on deck after his four weeks of leave for paternity were over, he was racing back to you.

In the middle of your silent thoughts on when you’d get to see your boyfriend of three years again, your phone began to vibrate back on the coffee table where you’d left it. The ringer had been silent—but the vibration against the glass was all you needed to hear as you padded back into the living room. Still drinkless and very much sober, something that needed to change very quickly if you were going to enjoy your time alone.

You anticipated the call to be Jake, but when the caller ID didn’t read ‘Flyboy’ with one of those obnoxious pink hearts next to it, you frowned. All that was staring back at you was an unknown number, one you hadn’t seen before. One that didn’t look familiar or resemble any contact you might have accidentally deleted from your contacts.

You’d heard what could become of curious minds, but that didn’t stop you from swiping the pad of your thumb across the vibrating screen before you held your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked cautiously, already wondering who could be calling you this late who didn’t know you.

“Hello?” A voice you didn’t recognise mimicked your greeting.

“Yes?” You grimaced at your own stupidity for a second as you made your way back into the kitchen.

“Who is this?” The man on the other end of the phone asked like he wasn’t the one who called you.

“Hmm—Well who are you trying to reach?” You tried to remain polite, for all you knew as you reached up for the bottle of gin, it truly could have been a mistake. A wrong number situation if you will.

“What number is this?” The man asked, a little more confused.

“Well what number are you trying to reach?” Your patience was going a little thin, but nevertheless you remained polite.

“I don’t know.” The man on the end of the line sounded as if he shrugged with a cocky little smirk. Was this some sort of prank call?

“I think you have the wrong number.” As if you were going to play along. Prank calls around this time of year were a dime a dozen and you just weren’t in the mood for childish antics.

“Do I?” He asked, almost shocked, like he knew that he had the right number all along. Because he did.

“It happens.” You shrugged it off with a quick eye roll, silently masking your annoyance. “Take it easy man.” You ended the call with a quick sigh and placed your phone on the counter as you went about making yourself a stronger, more appropriate beverage. The night was still somewhat young and you wanted a buzz. But then, once again, your phone rang with that same unknown number. At first you weren’t going to answer, but something inside you told you it could just be one of Jake’s friends pulling a prank.

“Hello?” You tried to mask the annoyance in your tone but it must have come across as clear as day as you answered the phone. Same unknown number, same smug voice.

“I’m sorry—I guess I dialled the wrong number.” The man on the other end sounded like he smiled through his words.

“So why’d you dial it again?” It was a genuine question, why would someone who dialled the wrong number dial it again? On purpose.

“To apologise.” The man replied rather quickly as you worked to pour yourself a rather strong shot of gin. It was going straight into the shaker.

“Well consider your apology accepted.” How stupid was the guy? “Goodbye now—“

“Wait, wait—don’t hang up.” He nearly begged, you could hear the desperation in his voice, the need to keep you on the line. What was this weirdo playing at?

“Why would I not?” You frowned, stilling your movements to pounder this entire situation. Who the fuck was this guy? What did he want? Did you know him? Was this some sort of prank?

“Because I wanna talk to you for a second.” Oh okay, now you got it.

“They’ve got numbers for that kinda shit.” You chuckled to yourself under your breath. “I ain't that kinda girl.” You didn't even bother saying goodbye this time, you simply pressed the end call button and went about making yourself a drink.

By the time you got settled back on the couch amongst a sea of throw blankets and halloween themed pillows, the TV had dimmed. If anything that was a clear indication as to how much time you had actually wasted talking to that random creeper on the phone.

As you got settled, the buzzing vibration of your phone on the coffee table scared the ever living Christ from you. You groaned when you saw it, that same unknown number. With a huff, you answered.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” Your heart nearly sunk at the harshness the man used as you held your phone up against your ear.

“Who the hell is this?” You frowned again, this time you weren't playing games. You’d spent enough time entertaining this lunatic and now it was time to get to the bottom of who the fuck was messing with you.

“You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.” The man chuckled to himself as he watched you get up off the lounge and slowly approach the nearest window to have a cautious look outside.

“I don’t think so.” The only thing you could see were the small pumpkin lights that boarded the front porch as they softly illuminated the stone in an orangey hume. Besides those small plastic pumpkin lights? There was nothing but darkness until the street.

“What’s that noise?” The man asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He sounded far too intrigued by you and your surroundings.

“I’m trying to watch a movie, now would you quit calling me?” You hissed through a huff as you made your way back to the couch. You were going to have to rewind your movie now, completely having lost track of where you were up to because of this lunatic.

“What movie is it?” This game was becoming old and cheap, you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes as you sat back down and fixed the fuzzy grey blanket that was one of Jake’s favourites. God you missed him, wished he was here. “The one you’re trying to watch?”

“IT, Chapter One.” There was a sharp, get to the point, I’m over this damn conversation tone in your voice as you picked up the remote to rewind the movie.

“Oh so it’s a scary movie?” The man sounded as if he raised an eyebrow at your explanation.

“Well I tell ya what Sherlock Holmes—“ Once again, you weren’t trying to be nice, so the sarcasm dripped from your mouth like liquid candy. “You’re onto something there.”

“Do you like scary movies?” He prolonged the question rather politely, but you didn’t miss the way his voice dropped an octave as your heart quickened inside your chest.

“I do—“ Your house was far too quiet for your liking as you spoke on the phone to this complete stranger. You’d all of a sudden lost all interest in your movie as you looked back to the front door. Did you lock it?

“What’s your favourite scary movie then?”

“I’m not sure, there’s a few that I could choose.” In an overprotective manner you walked back to the front door to check if it was locked. It was.

“Oh come on now, you’ve gotta have a favourite scary movie.” The man asked as he watched you walk around your house to check all the locks on all the windows and back door. “What comes to mind?”

“Fine, Halloween—“ None of your attempts to secure your humble abode would avail to anything. “You know, with the guy in the white mask that walks around stalking babysitters.” Because the man you were currently talking to was already inside your home. The home you shared with your loving, cock sure, flyboy boyfriend who was still in damn San Diego.

“Yeah, I know it.” The man replied softly, he was just trying to keep you on the line.

“So—what’s your favourite? Since you needed to know mine so desperately.” It even surprised you, but before you could stop yourself from entertaining this creeper any further the words had already escaped. You mentally had to slap yourself across the face for that one. That one was all on you.

“How about you guess?” The man chuckled as he watched you walk back from the back door to the living room where once again, you sat back down on the couch.

“Is it Nightmare on Elm Street?” Why oh why were you doing this to yourself?

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The man sounded like he had a smile on his face, like he was enjoying this a little too much. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to come around.

“Yeah, Freddie Kroger.” There was an ever increasing pit in your stomach that wouldn’t go away, something wasn’t right about this entire interaction. Who the fuck was this guy and why was he calling you on Halloween Eve.

“Freddie, yeah that’s right, I guess I do like that movie, it’s pretty scary, don’t you think?

“Well, the first one was but the rest sucked.” Again, why the fuck were you entertaining this guy.

“So—you gotta boyfriend?” There it was, the last of many red flags. The first three being the late night unknown phone calls.

“Why? Are you gonna ask me out on a date, Mr. Cold Call guy?” A little teasing wouldn’t do any harm you thought to yourself as you popped a piece of candy into your mouth.

“Maybe—“ The line went silent for a moment as your heart rang in your ears. “So? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do—“ You didn’t even need to lie, you did in fact have a very loved, very attractive, very not here at the moment boyfriend. “So, unfortunately for you there’s not gonna be a date.”

“How could there ever be a date when you still haven’t told me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?” The next few seconds of time slowed down into nothing as your heart sank into your stomach and your head rang in fear. The man you’d been talking to with the rough voice and the polite responses had you turning seven colours of bad shit as he spoke.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at—“

“What did you just say?” You shot up off the couch as you looked around your home frozen in fear.

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The man tried to plan it off cool, calm and oh so collected but he knew he’d been heard and heard correctly.

“That’s not what you said.” You could feel your heart hammering against your chest like it was trying to escape, but your feet refused to move.

“What do you think I said?” He egged you on as you heard what sounded like footsteps coming from the laundry and tears began to well in your eyes.

“Look, I gotta go, this is starting to get fucking creepy and my boyfriends gonna be home any minute.” The man on the end of the line could hear the shake in your voice as you tried to hang up and get out of this situation. He chose to play on your fear a little more.

“Wait, I thought we were gonna go on a date?” He questioned rather quickly as you tried to regulate your breathing and get your feet to move. This wasn’t happening, this was like the beginning of some slasher 90’s horror movie where the ignorant girl gets killed for not using her brain.

“Nah—you’re dreaming.” You pulled the phone away from your ear but froze in fear when you heard the man scream down the phone at you.

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me.” He spat with venom in his tone.

“Listen asshole—“ You spat back as you finally let the anger overtake the fear inside you.

“No you listen here you little bitch—“ He argued back as he watched you storm into the kitchen looking for a weapon to defend yourself with, only then did you realise the knives in the knife block had all been removed. “Hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish!”

“Is this some sort of sick joke to you?” It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. God you wished Jake was here right now, he would have told you not to answer an unknown number.

“More like a game—“ You should have listened to the little voice of his that lived in your mind. You never should have answered the phone. “Can you handle that—Y/n?” The way he said you named made all the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention.

“Can you see me?” You asked as you looked out the window once more, when there wasn’t an immediate response you growled into the phone. “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police—“

“I don’t think they’re gonna make it in time sweetheart.” The man chuckled rather menacingly and it made your blood boil. “But they’ll definitely get here with just enough time to see what your insides look like.”

“Ahh!” The doorbell rang and you swore your heart nearly exploded when it did. “Who’s there!” You shouted as you back away, screaming and crying into the phone. “Who’s fucking there!”

“You should never say who’s there, don’t you watch scary movies?” The man chuckled. “It’s a deathwish.”

“You’ve well and truly had your fun, now please—leave me alone.” You whimper for mercy, this was all too much.

“Or else what?” The man asked curiously, he wanted to know exactly what you were going to do about all this. He was, after all, the one with the upper hand.

“Or else my boyfriend will be here any second and he’ll be pissed when he finds out what cruel sick bastards been harassing me!”

“Isn’t he outta town?” How did? How the hell did he know? Had you told the mystery man fucking with you.

“No!” You denied the fact that Jake was out of town, still stuck on base in San Diego when he should have been here. “No he’s not, and he’s big and fucking jacked and he flys fucking military planes for a damn living and he’ll kick the ever living shit out of you!” You shouted into your phone as you backed away from any door and window you could possibly get away from. Spinning around to make sure you had good enough vision of the whole house.

“Oh yeah?” The man laughed on the other end of the line. “Sure, I’m shaking in my boots honey.” There was no question he could tell he was scaring you beyond belief, he’d watched you for the better half of five minutes frantically rush around the house locking all the doors and windows. “His name wouldn’t happen to be Jake? would it?” This was going to be so much fun.

“How do you know his name?” There was a clear whimper in your voice as tears streamed down your cheeks. Fear was caught in your throat like a ball of wax, choking you completely.

“Turn around—“ Slowly, you hung up the phone you held with a vice grip and turned around. To your absolute horror, there he was, the man who had been on the phone with you. Only you recognised the outfit with ease—it was a GhostFace costume. A really good one too. One that wasn’t from Dollar General the night before Halloween. This one had been thought out, the costume had intent and it was detailed.

“Boo.” Was all he said as he took a step towards you. “Aw look at you.” He chuckled to himself as he approached and you remained still in complete and utter fear. “A little scared are you?”

“How—how did you get inside my house?” It was a stupid question to ask, but as the man in the GhostFace mask approached you, you felt like you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

“You looked me in?” He simply explained as he showed you a shape, clearly brand new knife. “Now we’re all alone, with no one to interrupt.” It was slow, but the man behind the mask moved the knife closer and closer to your chin until he was using the knife's edge to tilt your chin up.

“I—“ Before you could speak, the man brought the knife down by his side and tilted his head. The silence that followed was all consuming as he just stared at your frozen, shaking and clearly terrified state.

“Y/n?” He growled from behind the mask, all you did was stare at the mask. That all consuming, all encompassing mask that made your heart beat so hard inside your chest you swore your sternum was about to break “Run.” Was all he barked and that’s all it took for your flight or flight to kick in.

“Help!” You shouted as you turned in the opposite direction and ran towards your front door. “Help me! Someone!” The masked man was right on your heels with heavy strides that made the timber flooding of your home creak with anticipation and excitement.

Oh to be hunted, oh to be caught.

You tried your best to get the front door unlocked in time but you just weren’t quick enough, or perhaps being caught was exactly what you wanted to happen. Just as you opened the front door and took two strides out onto the front porch—an all encompassing arm wrapped itself around your waist and the other wrapped itself around your mouth.

Your eyes shot out of your skull as you felt yourself being dragged back inside your house. Your feet slipped under the anxiety of it all and soon enough you were on the ground being dragged back across the living room by the man in the GhostFace mask.

“What’s the matter darlin’ I thought you said your boyfriend would be home any minute?” The man teased as he manhandled you up by your hair, forcing you up to your knees as your own hand came up to grip around his wrist, giving him two very firm squeezes in a row. Green, you were emerald green and everything in between as you clenched your teeth together and let your tears fall free. “I don’t see him anywhere?”

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, the feeling of being completely overpowered by someone. Being told you had no control, no say.

“Fuck. You.” You spat as the man worked to pull off the black cloak he was wearing, revealing under a simple outfit of dark blue jean, a nice brown belt that matched the leather of his boots and a white-T.

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do.” You didn't register what that meant at first, but as you watched the man in the mask unbuckle his belt with one hand as he held onto your hair tightly with the other, that's when you started to feel the all too familiar heat pooling between your legs.

“No!” You shouted as you tried to rip your hair out of his tight grasp. “No! Get away from me!” Kicking and screaming you tried your best to free yourself from your captor's hold, but it was to no avail.

“My cocks been aching for your mouth since I saw you pop that candy into it.” There was a distinct primal need dripping from every word the masked man spoke as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down ever so slightly to reveal what you had been anticipating since before your phone rang for the first time that night. “Now you’re gonna suck me off like a good fucking girl before I gut you.” The threat could’ve been taken suggestively or literally, but as the man pumped his entire fist around the throbbing velvet length right in front or your face, you could have sworn you drooled. But you couldn't break character, not yet, it was far too early and you wanted to see just how far this could actually go before you had to tap out.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You turned your face to the right to try and save yourself from the ever looming sexual act you knew you were about to perform. Pre-cum oozed from the throbbing tip that looked exactly like the colour of your boyfriend's lips. A mix between pink and red, the perfect soft flesh colour that you adored. It looked just as pretty on his cock, but you would tell him that, not right now.

Not when he was dressed up as your favourite Ghost Face Killer for Halloween Eve.

“Uh uh uh–” His voice still sounded like his, but with the mask it muffled the familiar twang you had leant to love. Without that comfort this felt all too real, you weren't going to lie and say you weren't a little scared. But that's exactly what you had asked for when Jake had agreed to do this for you. To play into one of your biggest and longest standing sexual fantasies. “Don't you turn that pretty mouth away from me, we’re just getting to know each other.”

“I'm not sucking your dick.” You hissed through gritted teeth as the masked man crouched down a little further and used his free hand to squish your cheeks together as you kneeled before him. “Fuck you!”

“You have two options here.” He growled from behind the mask, if you looked close enough, you could see those familiar lips of his behind the darkness. “Either you do what I say, everything, without a fucking fuss–” There was a very distinct pause that the masked man made you sit in contemplation in before he told you your second option. The one he knew you wouldn't like very much. “Oh i'll just kill you, right here right now, no one will hear you scream, no one will know who did it, you’ll become a forgotten first kill because let's face it sweetheart, no one really gives a shit unless you're a final girl.”

There had to be someone psychologically wrong with your brian and how it was hard wired to experience pleasure, because in that moment, in that very millisecond of time, your core throbbed at the thought of being used against your very willing will. The idea of consensual non consent had been brought up a few times, by you of course. Jake took a little while to come around. He wasn’t too keen on the whole idea of forcing himself on you, he wasn’t sure how it all worked, but once he understood the concept, once he understood how to act and how to communicate while you were deep, deep in that subspace scene he knew you loved, it became as easy as riding a bike for him to please you.

“Well?” It was like he could see the cogs turning inside your mind as your eyes never left his from behind the mask. “What’s it gonna be?” When you didn’t answer and instead involuntarily shook in his grasp, Jake took a split second to check in on you. He stood up slowly, letting the hand that had once been squeezing your cheeks caress the side of your face as he pulled you closer to his hardened sex by your hair. “What colour?”

“Green.” You replied and within a second, Jake had made your mind up for you and was guiding his tip between your lips.

“Suck my dick sweetheart, come on, be a good girl for me.” It was hard to pretend to protest, but you tried to keep your mouth shut until Jake was gripping your hair a little tighter until you gasped at the pain. “That’s it, good fucking girl.”

With eager hips Jake growned at the feeling of your mouth taking him in, so warm and tight around his throbbing girth. The mask he wore, the one that seemed to get you off to the heights of heights was humid from his open mouth breathing. But like hell was he about to ruin this roll play, he’d rather pass the fuck out than ruin the illusion the both of you had so perfectly orchestrated.

“Oh god your boyfriend’s a lucky guy isn’t he?” You couldn’t help but to look up as the man in the mask looked down at you. Fuck—your panties were soaking, arousal pooled between your folds as you felt the very tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

The eye contact was intense, you knew it was Jake but something about that damn mask had your head spinning so violently that your eyes watered with fear and need. You wanted to fight, to run, to fake the unwillingness to cooperate just to see how far Jake would go.

“Don’t fight it baby—“ He growled as you strained to stop your head from bobbing up and down his length. “You’re doing such a good job, fucking whore of a thing aren’t you?” The feeling of his slightly calloused hands keeping your head right where he needed it to be was pure pleasure—being used like this, being told what to do even if you didn’t want to do it. “Fuck look at those tears, what are they for huh?”

The man in the Ghostface mask, your boyfriend, Jake, dragged his thumb across your cheek to collect the tears that fell as he fucked your face to a rhythm that had him weak in the knees.

“Ohhh god I’m so glad I didn’t decide to kill you straight away. Stupid girl—“ He went on to say as the tip of his hardened and throbbing cock bashed against your throat, making you gag around him before he held you still. He made sure that you couldn’t breathe, not while you were choking on him and only him. “Maybe this will teach you not to answer unknown numbers, there’s some fucked up people in this world sweetheart.” He teased as you pushed against his jean clad thighs, trying to push him away so that you could feel the sweet relief of oxygen returning to your lungs. “What did I just fucking say huh!?”

“Let me ggoo—!” You screamed as the man in the mask pulled himself out of your mouth and let you go. He watched with a curious held hilt as you crawled away crying and gasping for air. “Get away from me!”

Jake pumped his hand up and down his shaft a few laboured times before he stuffed himself back into his jeans and went after you with heavy strides. You hadn’t gotten far, but oh how thrilling and invigorating was it to be hunted in your own home.

“Gee that boyfriend of yours is running real behind on schedule isn’t he?” The man in the mask chuckled as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, you were hiding just behind the countertop. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” He cooed childish as he stepped slowly, the floorboard squeaked under his boot as he did so. “Y/n, I know you’re in here sweetheart, why don’t you come out so I can cut you up.”

You were careful not to make a sound as you placed your hands over your mouth and pulled your knees up close to your chest. Every second that passed? Your heart threatens to break out of your body. You knew deep down that the guy in the mask was Jake, but he was doing this a little too well.

“You wanna play psycho killer?” You mumbled under your breath. You really didn’t know how you were going to get away, but you knew that the man in the mask was about to come around the corner and see you hiding clear as day. “Fine!!”

As soon as Jake rounded the corner he was met with you first to his stomach with enough force that it had him doubling over. His moment of weakness gave you five seconds to run out of the kitchen and straight up the stairs. The plan all along has been to eventually end up in your bedroom.

As you ran down the hall towards your bedroom, the man in the mask was quick to catch up. After all, this man was a highly skilled Naval Aviator who was fighting fit. You never stood a chance at getting away.

“Ahhhh!” When you saw him in the mirror standing right behind you as you looked for a place to hide, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. This was what it was like to be hunted down, used, tormented.

“What’s the matter Y/n?” The man teased as he tilted his head and stepped towards you, pointing the knife he held in his hand your way. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Leave me alone!!” The sound that came from you was something straight out of a horror movie as the man stepped closer and closer, completely ignoring your cries and pleas for him to stop.

“Get on the bed—“ Was all he demanded as he pointed the knife to the mattress. “I said, get on the fucking bed!”

“You’re gonna have to force me or kill me because I’m not letting you touch me again.” The standoff continued in the all consuming silence of your bedroom as your core throbbed and soaked your delicate panties. This was it, all the talks, the explanations, the ideas. They all boiled down to this moment.

You trusted Jake Seresin with your life, so much so you let him in on a fantasy of yours, a kink so deep and nasty that you’d never told any of your ex boyfriends about. You didn’t trust them to do this with you. But Jake? Ten fold.

“Colour?” It would be one of the last check in points before you got exactly what you wanted, what you so desperately craved. Jake remained in character as he once again looked you right in the eyes through his mask.

“Green.” At your whimperious admission, Jake lunged at you with so much force it truly knocked the wind right out of your lungs. He had you pinned on the mattress within seconds of your admission. “GET OFF ME!”

“Shut the fuck up.” The man’s hand came up to tightly wrap about your throat, squeezing the sides to restrict your breathing. “Now listen here and listen good, I’m gonna fuck you real good, and after you cum all over me—I’m gonna make sure no one ever finds out what happened to poor sweet Y/n when she was murdered in her own damn home.”

You were manhandled by your neck and hips to flip over onto your stomach into that position you knew your body loved the most. Doggy style. Something about the angel always sent Jake's length so deep you swore the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust.

You felt the edge of the man’s sharp blade run slowly over the fabric of your pyjama shirt, directly down your spine as you shivered under the touch.

“I bet you're a tight little thing.” Too afraid to move, you felt the elastic of your pyjamas pants slipping past your hips until the chill of your bedroom kissed your exposed cheeks. “Holy fuck look at you, you’ve ruined your panties.” The man growled as you heard him shimmering out of his jeans behind you. “Someone likes to be taunted, don’t you darlin’?”

Again you could do anything but remain silent and shaking in fear as you felt the man’s hands trail up under your shirt, across your smooth ass and finally down between your dripping folds. The anticipation was all consuming.

“That boyfriend of yours is a lucky guy—“ You saw a flash of white light illuminate your bedroom for a brief moment as you felt a hand pressing your head down into the mattress. Holy mother of god he’s taking photos. “I’ll need these for later.” He admitted as another flash went off. Photo after photo.

“Please, please don’t do this—“ You cried as you felt the tip of his cock sliding up and down through your folds. Collecting all your arousal as he did so to slick up his length to fit right inside. “Please—“

“I love it when they beg.” Was all the masked man said before he was pushing himself inside you. Your eyes rolled so far back into your head at the overwhelming pleasure that you swore you saw your own soul. “Ohh fughh—such a pretty pussy you’ve got, go on, scream for me darlin, no one's gonna hear you.”

“AHHHH!” With every frightful, pleasurable thrust you screamed into the mattress. “Stop! Stop please!”

“Oh but you feel so fucking good.” The man growled as his free hand that wasn’t pressing your face into the mattress came up to slap your ass. You jolted from the sting. “Look at that, so reactive.”

Again you felt another sharp slap as the man behind you quickened his pace.

“Ah fuck!”

“That’s it baby, I know you love it—“ The man let go of your head as his hands came to hold

Your hips tighter than ever before, pulling you back into him as you tried to get away. “I know you love this, being used, don’t run away, stay right here on my cock.”

Jake didn’t let up as he fucked deep and hard into your push from behind. You couldn’t see the mask, but the idea of him wearing it was even to have you seeing stars. Every thrust brought you closer to that ever looming orgasm that threatened to crash over you and every slap against your ass sent you further and further into that sun space where you could just feel and exist.

“Dirty fucking thing look at you, fucking a killer.” The man taunted you as he pulled you up by your hair so that your back was flush against his chest. When did he remove his shirt? Was it when he took his jeans off? Did he also take the mask off? “Unbutton your shirt.” He hissed as he slowed down the pace to a barely there rhythm. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you like it was dying to coat your velvet walls.

“I said!” The man held the knife to your throat as he fucked you slowly from behind, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “Unbutton your shirt—“

With shaking hands and the inability to fully comprehend how pleasure filled and ignited your nerve endings were, you slowly but surely unbuttoned your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your bra. The black lace one Jake adored to no end.

It matched the panties you’d ruined, the ones the man had dragged down your legs along with your pyjamas pants.

“What colour?” When you didn’t answer straight away Jake frowned behind his Ghostface mask and dragged the knife away from your neck along your sternum towards your core. “Sweetheart, it’s me, I’m here, what colour are you?” The gentle words broke through the blinding spell of the role play situation you were in. It was all fake, you were safe, Jake would never do anything to hurt you. “It’s me, just me.”

“Green—“ That was all Jake needed before he was pushing you back down onto the mattress, he manhandled you expertly so that he was on top, sliding back into you like you were his home, like you were made just for him. “Ahh! Fuck!!”

“Naughty little thing—“ He growled behind the mask that hovered over you. His hips slammed into yours as he hovered over you with a hand on either side of your body. “I can feel you trembling.”

That coil had begun to wind to new heights as you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist and dragged your nails down his back. You were getting close, oh so close to that orgasmic euphoria you’d been searching for since that first phone call.

“Ohh fuck yes I can feel you gripping my dick, ohhh fuck, that’s it sweetheart, bet you wish that boyfriend of yours could see you like this huh?” The taunting mixed with the rhythm of Jake's rutts we’re sending you towards the edge of the cliff face you wanted so desperately to jump off. The mask that was staring you right in the face though, that’s what was doing it the most for you. “You wanna come? Wanna cum like a little whore all over my dick?”

Needy little cries were all you could reply with as the man in the mask trailed one hand down between your bodies to circle the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m close too, which means you’re gonna be full of my cum, dripping, completely stuffed full of my load.” He moaned through the mask as your back arched and your eyes rolled. You were so deep into your sun space Jake hardly recognised the please in your eyes. “Colour?”

“I’m coming!” It was all you had the energy to say before your cries and whimpers and desperate pleas all mixed together into a babbling mantra of euphoric high. Your back arched all the way up till your stomach was pressed against Jakes and he was following within seconds. Seeing you like this, so spent and fucked out and blissfully under control made the orgasm that was pooling at the base of his shaft shoot up to overcome his entire being.

“Ah shit! Fuck fuck fuck fuck, baby yes—ahhhh Christ!” It was one of the most intense orgasms Jake Seresin had ever had. The load he pumped inside you was thick and heavy and dripped around his shaft as he continued to fuck you deeper and fuck you through your own high.

His back bled from your nails scraping down his muscles, but he didn’t mind, they were worth it to see you like this.

The second he could, Jake was taking the Ghostface mask off and coaxing you to look at him while he was still buried deep inside you. Tears welled in your eyes as old tears stained your cheeks. His gentle touch made you jump.

“Shhh baby it’s me, just me.”

“Jake.” You sobbed as he came down to kiss your lips as gently as ever before trailing those same soft kisses across your collarbone as you came down.

“It’s just me darlin’ you did so well for me.” He whispered sweet nothings across your fiery skin. “You played along so well.” Jake knew you were gonna take a while to come down, he knew it would take a while for you to process everything, from the phone call to the oral to the knife okay. But he already had a plan in place and a surprise organised for you tomorrow night.

“I’m gonna run us a bath.” Jake mumbled against your skin as he left a few marks behind in his wake. You swallowed heavily in response as your body continued to experience the after effects of being so deep into role play. “I love you so much, thankyou for letting me in, for letting me bring your fantasies to life.”

“Are you staying with me in the bath?” You could barely speak as Jake helped you up, handing you your pyjama short back as he dismounted from your bed. His cock remained flaccid and coated in a mix of your arousal and his cum.

It was just as important to receive the aftercare than to experience the high. Jake was good like that, and you’d discussed this beforehand with him. That you’d need time to come down after and just be held and brought back to earth. Jake was more than accommodating to your needs.

“Absolutely, I’m not going anywhere.” You managed a smile as you watched Jake pick up the Ghostface mask and stare at it. “You know there were two of these guys right?” Jake smirked as he threw it over onto your bedside table. “Kinda makes you wonder how far we could take this role play kink of yours.”

“Who’d be your Stu Macher?” You asked as you stood from the bed to give Jake a kiss so gently it was like the wings of a butterfly had handed against his cheeks. “It’s bath time Loomis.” You cooed as you patted Jake's shoulder twice. “Come on.”

“I’ll wash your hair for you.” Jake followed you into the bathroom eagerly before he shut the door behind him. It was good to be home.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“This is awesome.” Javy beamed when he saw you and Jake at the annual Seresin family Halloween party. The Daggers had all been granted a week's grace and they all decided to utilise the time off to attend the celebration. “Sidney and Billy, that’s awesome.”

“If only he knew—“ Jake whispered in your ear as you giggled and pushed at his chest. You were still buzzing from your night with Jake. High on the ecstasy his Ghostface impersonation gave you. “Come on now, don’t act all shy.” Jake teased as he kissed you tenderly, tilting your chin up with his index finger. The costume was really making you dizzy, you were still all consumed by your burning desire to act out your wildest fantasies.

“Oh.” You felt your phone ringing in your back pocket. “Huh.” You had to laugh at the irony. “It’s an unknown number?” You turned your phone to Jake as he smirked and nodded.

“You should answer it.” After all, he did have a surprise for you. “Go on now, don’t be shy.” With confusion laced into the lines and fake blood on your face, you swipt your phone along the screen and held it to your ear all the while you kept eye contact with Jake.

“Hello?” You asked cautiously, still not sure what the hell was going on.

“Wanna play a game?” Bradley spoke through the phone as you caught sight of him behind Jake’s shoulder. Dressed in that all too familiar ghost face costume. After all, there were always two killers.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: 🏷️ @attapullman @330bpm-whiplash @mamachasesmayhem @echo-ethe @avengersgirllorianna @nmw-am @eli2447 @hookslove1592 @kmc1989 @seitmai @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh

#jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #tw: scream #tw: ghostface #tw: cnc #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfiction

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darkpetal16 · 2 months

Note

Quick question for all the boys: what nickname would they give to their partner?

ALL?? OK BABE I GOT YOU. but like I can't do an "all" post again there's just too many now lol.

Underfell!Sans (Red): Babe (all), sweetheart (for the shy or introverted babes), doll/dollface (for the feisty babes)

Underfell!Papyrus (Edge): Love (but very sparingly, he’s not fond of nicknames):

Underfell!Wingding (Fell): My dear / My love / My other half / My heart (all emphasis on the my)

Underfell!Asriel (Prince): doesn’t use nicknames unless explicitly asked to. Might refer to you as partner / mate / spouse however.

Underfell!Grillby (Fellby): Sweet girl/boy/pup & Little firecracker.

Underswap!Sans (Blue): Not fond of nicknames but will occasionally call you his puzzle piece. If you ask him to call you something specific, he will.

Underswap!Papyrus (Stretch): Honey, honey bear, honey pie, spicy honey, and if he wants to be ornery / annoy others in public. . .honey bunny wunny.

Underswap!Wingding (Thread): My dear, my little patchwork, darling, marshmallow / cinnamon spice / pumpkin pie.

Underswap!Asriel (Buttercup): Dummy (affectionately). He gets embarrassed by nicknames.

Mafiafell!Sans (Hit): for feminine presenting partner: doll face, sweetheart, lil lady, cookie. For masculine presenting partner: pal, buzz, lil gent, dish. For neutral, mixture of both depending on his mood.

Mafiafell!Papyrus (Boss): He doesn’t do nicknames, per se, but instead waxes poetry for you about you in private. He’d also prefer it if you didn’t give him nicknames in public. Reputation is very important to him and his family and he expects you respect that.

Mafiafell!Wingding (Don): Muse, my dear, darling, puppet, marionette, toy

Mafiafell!Asriel (Heir): Meadow, my haven, my sunshine (if early riser) / my nightfall (if late sleeper)

Slumbertale!Sans (Slumber): Buddy, chum, pal, bucko, friend, fella who naps with me, pillow, blanket, kitten (if you nap often) / puppy (if you do not take naps often), the one who makes plans, my worser half (jokingly), my alarm clock, etc. He’ll come up with obscure and odd nicknames depending on your routine together.

Slumbertale!Papyrus (Mayor): MY RIGHT HAND! There is no bigger compliment because this fella HATES to rely on anyone so if you’re his right hand then you’re someone as invaluable to him as his own right hand.

Slumbertale!Wingding (Abyss): Dewdrop.

Slumbertale!Asriel (Unending): My dream come true, dreamer, buttercup, butterscotch, butter biscuit

Slumbertale!Grillby (Sleeby): His nickname will be dependent on your favorite drink. For example if you like pina coladas he’d call you his sweet coconut, and if you like soda he’d call you his pop-heart.

Horrortale!Sans (Axe): No nicknames unless you specifically tell him to. He just doesn’t think about it.

Horrortale!Papyrus (Sugar): My little meatball, Strawberry jam, rhubarb pie, my berry, love, heart, SOUL

Horrortale!Wingding (Ghost): my heart / our hope

Horrortale!Asriel (Yarrow): butterscotch, cinnamon bun, and sun drop

Horrortale!Grillby (Calcifer): no nicknames!

Reapertale!Sans (Reaper): Nothing set in stone. He'll come up with one time nicknames for puns. Like if you were burned alive & died to met him, he'd call you hot stuff. If you drowned he'd call you a mermaid with lungs. Things along those lines.

Sciencetale!Sans (Doc): he tried nicknames. It came out awkward because he kept stuttering and he was deeply embarrassed so he never did it again.

Sciencetale!Wingding (Professor): Treasure

Siren!Sans (Siren): That’s a human concept, so he wouldn’t choose any. You can tell him what you want him to call you and he’ll accommodate.

Siren!Wingding (Apex): Same as above.

Dustttale!Sans (Dust): Idiot, fool, daydreamer, dreamer, (and very rarely when he thinks you aren’t listening) my miracle

MASTERLIST (HCS & REQUESTED SCENARIOS)

#undertale #undertale au #underfell #underswap #mafiafell #slumbertale #siren sans #siren wingdings #horrortale #reapertale #dusttale #dust sans #sciencetale #hc #interactive fiction #jelly donut #iykyk

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writingsbychlo · 1 year

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 02

summary; after an awkward breakfast and some clarification, you and azriel take the next step in your agreement.

word count; 8091

notes; y'all I hope you love this, it's pretty much just 8,000 words of pure fluff, it's adorable. I love this series so much.

When the sunlight first hit your eyes, you groaned, twisting your face to bury deeper into the pillow. It wasn’t usually the direction that sunlight came in through your dingy window, warmth cascading across the wrong side of your face, and you dragged your hand up to cover it.

Some day, you’d be able to afford curtains to properly block it out. That little indulgence just surged up a few places on your mental list. Before your hands reached your face, however, cool darkness blocked it out, your hand skimming across the mattress lazily, and one eye cracking open.

Before you, like a swirling mass of darkness, was a tendril of shadow. Twisting slowly in the morning light, dancing between golden sun-rays and blocking it from your field of you. Your body jerked, a slight shriek falling from your lips as you scrambled back across the bed, bracing yourself to fall over the edge and hit the floor.

You never did. The plush mattress seemed to stretch on and on, your body aching and protesting the sudden movements from where you’d still been on the cusp of sleep.

The shadow looked almost amused, dancing along the streams of light and closer to you, meeting the mattress and slithering its way across the comforter towards you. At the first cold brush of it across your knuckles, the fog cleared, and your memories all seemed to come flooding back. It was some kind of blur, sweet smiles and towering wings and the taste of berries and warm spices like a memory across your tastebuds.

Hauling your legs up to your chest, you bent forward, until your forehead could press to your knees, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. Your toes curled in the bedding, still warm, the smell of mist and fresh earth lingering around the room, like the smell of the air after it rained, calming and soothing and cool. When you finally lifted your head again, you could take it all in.

There, still sitting atop the chest of drawers was your dress, folded neatly just as you’d left it. The tray of tea and cookies had been cleared from the stool at the end of the bed, but the plush cushioning still held a slight imprint of where it had sat all night.

The shadow was back, splitting into two and whirling around each side of your face, the touch of them light like a ghost, smoothing over your skin like a feather, and your lips twitched a little at the edges.

“You scared me, y’know.” The spiral they made around your fingers when you lifted a hand was like a silent snicker, and you watched them form ever-changing patterns across the surface of your skin, playful and sweet. “I’m not used to waking up and finding the shadows moving.”

The windows were shut, no gust filtered through the room, but the shadows in the room all seemed to sway once, like a breeze through curtains, shimmying back into place, and a gasp held in your throat.

“Am I supposed to leave now?” Your heart clenched a little at the thought, and though Azriel was nowhere to be seen now, you knew he must be somewhere, he wouldn't have just left you here in his bed. The shadows banded around your wrist, the darkness in the room seeming to pulse for a moment, and your brow inched up. “No? Am I supposed to stay?”

The flicker of shadows seemed like a far more empathetic yes, and your smile stretched more.

“Well, then, where is your master?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d have sworn the shadows bristled at that, a sense deep within you telling you that they’d give a disgruntled huff if capable, and your chuckle blew them like powder on the wind. Detangling from our arm, they blew across the air, before reforming from mist and hovering in a swirling column near the bedroom door.

The carpet was plush underneath your toes as you stood, stretching your arms high above your head, feeling your joints ease happily into the day after sleep on such a comfortable mattress, nothing like your own. One step after another, you seemed to inch silently across the house, no creaking or cracked floorboards, and the door clicked softly out of place as you twisted the knob open.

The shadow moved, darting away from you like a flash of black, and you glanced around the corridor, tracking each direction. Nothing seemed to give away where you should go, the maze of corridors and doorways looming along each direction was dizzying, and you wished you’d paid at least a little attention last night when Azriel had guided you through the house, instead of staring at his back muscles and blushing. That same blush played on your cheeks now as you thought about it.

Hovering at the end of the hall to your right was the shadow, bobbing almost impatiently in the air, it's twirling like a ballerina’s ribbon increasing in speed as it hurried you along, and your footsteps were rushed as you chased after it before it disappeared again. By the time you reached the end of the hall, though, it was gone, and you peered around the corner just to be met with more halls.

Hovering by an open-arch doorway, your guide traced the patterns on the wood, playing in each dip and rivulet, and the rest of the shadows along the hall fluttered towards it, encouraging you to keep going. As you neared, the smell of bacon hit your nose, warm and salty and enough to make your stomach grumble, and you licked across dry lips at the thought of it. That same shadow darted down, smacking across your forehead lightly and bouncing off, spinning through the air toward a set of stairs at the end of this room.

You followed them down, down, down, until the carpet gave way to cold wooden floorboards, and more shadows seemed to slither along the bottom floor of the house, like lazy puddles that barely dared to shift or glance up as you passed by.

The first few you tried to avoid, hopping around and past them, before it was impossible, and you were stumbling through clouds of darkness that merely shifted around your ankles, reforming on the other side, entirely unaffected by your presence.

At last, you found the kitchen, a room you knew, following the shadow, and the faint humming of a deep voice, accompanied by the popping of oil in a pan. Standing before the stove, miles of tan skin and dark leathery wings on display, Azriel stood before the stove, shirtless as he cooked, and leaving the few pale scars across his back exposed to you to observe. They were nothing like the ones on his hands, the uncontrolled and swirling flesh he’d been branded with. These were precise and clean, nicks from blades and arrows, even a few slightly puckered that seemed to mark the lashings of a whip, almost faded into the depth of golden skin now.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” A deep voice uttered, even more so than it had been the night before, and you felt the slight tremble of your legs with the rasp of it. Throaty and thick, his morning voice still hadn't cleared, and you wondered once again how this man could possibly be single, could need to resort to making a deal with you; the absurd deal he likely regretted once the sun had risen.

��Good morning.” You mumbled, watching as he turned, a wide smile on his face as he put out the flame on the stove, the sizzling of the bacon slowing without heat. When he moved, you could see the contents of the pan then, your mouth watering. Not just bacon, but sausages too, and eggs. He stepped toward you, revealing more of the counter, a plate of toast and butter, ready to go.

“You hungry?” He teased, shifting to grab for the kettle, and pouring some tea into an empty mug, before adding a dollop of honey into it. Making his way over to you, you could only nod, watching all the stacked, towering muscle of him closing in on you, until your back was pressed to the doorframe, head tipped back to look up at him. The teasing grin faded to a smile as he pressed the warm porcelain into your hands. “I cooked for you.”

“Very kind of you.” Your whisper was shared in the space between you both, and he raised a hand to tuck some stray hair behind your ears, before stepping back. His eyes flickered across every inch of your face, observing, analysing, and you hoped what he saw was what he wanted.

“You feelin’ okay? How’d you sleep?” The words were thrown over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen island, tugging out a stool and tapping it, a silent order to take a seat. Your feet were moving before your brain had even caught up, sinking down onto the tall stool and bracing your elbows on the counter, still clutching the mug.

“I slept better than I have in a long time. Maybe ever. You have a very comfortable mattress.” Words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, words that made you feel like an idiot, a fool— until he laughed, a soft chuckle under his breath, eyes sparkling as he turned to face you.

He passed over a plate, piled high with more food than you could possibly eat, before his own followed to the seat opposite you, and he sunk onto it. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Cutting into the meat on your plate, you could only offer a smile in response, choking back your embarrassment to cater to the hunger growling within you, and focus on your food.

Several moments passed in silence, nothing but the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, the scraping of cutlery on the plates, and the occasional rustle to break the tension. Eventually, it was all too much.

“We should probably talk about… it.”

“By ‘it’, do you mean our deal?” Azriel grinned, smirking a little as he popped another forkful of toast and egg into his mouth, chewing and staring at you, like you were supposed to start this conversation. Putting down your knife and fork, you crossed your arms over the marble countertop in front of you, settling the nerves quelling in your stomach that was almost making you nauseous.

“Look, Azriel. I really appreciate everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much it all means to me. You’ve been like some kind of guardian angel, sent to me when I needed you most, before I forced myself to do something I’d never be able to forgive myself for.” The smile slipped from his lips slowly, a more serious look taking over his face, and you rolled back your shoulders, willing yourself to be strong, and taking a deep breath. “However, I’m not the sort of person to take advantage of you, of any of it. So, I’m giving you an out. I know how bargains work in this court now, so surely I can give you a way to undo it.”

He stared for a second, chewing his mouthful slowly, and his gaze upon you seemed to narrow as he swallowed. Then, he took a sip of his tea, still staring at you across the rim of his mug, and your whole body felt electrified. Reaching up, you rubbed slowly across the back of your neck, feeling nothing of the mark that had formed there last night, and making a mental note to look for it later. “I don’t accept.”

“What?”

“I do not accept your out. I don’t want it.”

“You— You have to!” You burst, and he only shrugged, cutting off another piece of toast and dragging it across the juices on the plate, before stuffing it into his mouth.

“Well, I’m not.” He spoke around his food, and you stared at him helplessly. “Now, eat up. I know you’re hungry, and I can make more if you still want something else after.”

“Azriel,” You started, and he stared pointedly at your food, like this conversation wasn’t going any further until he saw you eat. You’d barely started your meal, and he was halfway through his. With a grunt, you cut off a large chunk of sausage and bacon, shoving it into your mouth less than gracefully, and wiping at the droplet of grease that was making its way down your chin. He only grinned at you.

“I’m not accepting your out, because I don’t regret making that deal. Not even a little bit. I will give you an out of our deal, but only after you let me talk. Will you?” You were still chewing, slightly regretting your passive-aggressive portion, because you could only nod in response. “I don’t regret our deal, because when I woke up this morning, I was happier than I have been in a long, long time. That’s because of you. Do you know what I woke up to this morning?”

You could still only shake your head, wincing as you tried to choke down the mouthful with at least a little decorum.

“I woke up to the sound of your heartbeat. You were lying in my bed, one hand still around me, and my head was on your chest. I lay there for a good fifteen minutes just listening, and feeling, and loving it. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been alone for?” A shot of pain sliced through your chest, aiming straight for your heart and hitting its mark, your gaze softening as you looked at him. “I have not woken up in somebody’s arms like that before. I’ve— nobody ever stays the night. I don’t let them, and they don’t want to. They take what they want, and they go. By the morning, it’s cold and empty all over again. This time, I fell asleep in your arms, and I woke up to you.”

“Az…” Your voice was hoarse, and you ran a hand down the side of your face, stopping to rest trembling fingers over your lips gently, trying to process.

“I’ve never slept so well either. But, it’s not just about that. Do you have any idea how nice this is? To cook for someone, and get to talk, and know someone else is here? I want this. I want it all.”

“But it would be so unfair to you.” Your words shook, and you reached out, taking one of his hands gently in your own, and smoothing your thumbs across the marred flesh, staring at the movements to avoid the weight of his gaze. “You’d be letting me live in your house, providing everything for me, you’d be changing my life, and—”

“And you’d be changing mine too. You know this.”

“But I can’t give you enough! I can’t make it even.” Sadness welled in your throat, a lump that made it hard to breathe. The selfish part of your mind was beating you for turning down everything you needed as it was handed to you on a silver platter, because your heart was in control right now.

“You don’t mind my hands?” He said after a few moments of silence, and your motions stilled, eyes snapping up to meet his own.

“What?”

“My hands. You don’t mind them?” His fingers flexed in your own, and you squeezed a little tighter.

“Of course not!”

“And what about my wings? My shadows. Do they scare you?” He pressed, and a deep sense of longing, to comfort him, to hold him, rushed through your veins like a drug taking hold.

“Your wings are beautiful, Az. Every part of you is beautiful. From your golden heart to your pretty golden eyes.” His cheeks flushed with a little colour, and you smiled despite yourself, loving that you could dot hat to him. To the infamous and terrifying spymaster of the Night Court. “Your shadows are adorable and playful, and I like them very much.”

“Do I scare you?” His voice was a whisper now, strained like he didn’t want to ask at all but just had to know the answer.

“No.” You replied, just as small and delicate.

“Then why can’t you see, that it has to be you? There’s something special about you. I don’t want anyone else. If you don’t want this deal, then I will let you go, without question or pressure. But I don’t want anyone else, I won’t offer it to another.” He held your hand properly now, lacing his fingers with your own and holding tight. “You have no idea how much you’d be giving me by being here, how much I need you already. By staying, you’d be giving me everything, I’d be the one unable to ever repay you. I want it to be you, I want you here with me. Please, stay.”

You worried your lower lip, your heart beating so hard it almost hurt, and your mind warred with the organ in your chest. You wanted to, you wanted so badly to stay here and be with him. It was surreal and wild and nothing like anybody had ever prepared you for. It was confusing, and different, and so strange. But despite every concern, it felt so right, like somehow, you’d stumbled to exactly where you were supposed to be, with whom you were supposed to be.

“I have so much… so much to give, and nobody to give it to. Let it be you, please.”

“I think I would like to stay too.” You finally whispered, a shot of adrenaline surging through you as the words slipped free. Happiness followed, an overwhelming burst of it at the smile that Azriel gave you, dropping his forehead to your clasped hands.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, I have the easy part here.” You chuckled, taking your hands back to pick up your knife and fork when he finally freed them for you, still beaming as you as he resumed his own breakfast.

“Not true. All I do is let you move into my house, and live with me. It’s no great struggle. You have to…” He trailed off, shrugging a little, and your face flushed with heat, much like his own.

“I hardly think you’ll be a difficult man to love, Azriel.” Your words were whispered, hanging in the air for only a second between you both as he stared, before you cleared your throat, shattering the moment. “What do I do? What would you like? We should probably talk about that.”

He was silent for a few minutes, contemplating your question, and you resumed your eating, trying to get the spinning whirlwind of your thoughts back under control. You’d seen less chaotic sandstorms in Dawn than this felt.

As you finished your plate, somehow managing to finish off all the food that was there, a proud look passed across Azriel’s face as he watched, pleased with himself, it was clear.

“We do… whatever you want. I’ll follow your guidance, you tell me where your line is. If all you want is to be roommates, then that’s what we will be. I want everything, and anything you want to give.” He finished his food, stacking your plates together with a satisfied nod. “You make the rules, you set the boundaries. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Should we make another bargain of it?” You pondered aloud, reaching for your lukewarm tea, and your companion was full of simple amusement.

“Don’t ever make a bargain of something where the terms could change, or you’ll never be able to get rid of your promise mark. If I teach you only one thing about the Night Court, I will teach you about deals and promises.” Your hand flew to the back of your neck again, eyes widening.

“They can go?”

“Of course, once a promise is fulfilled, they disappear.”

Your gaze flickered down to his chest, across swatches of strong and taut muscle that was decorated with ink. “You’ve got all those promises currently?”

He sat back, arms stretching a little, and looked down at himself. “Some of them. This one,” He traced his fingers across a splotch of intricate ink just to the right of his heart. “is a promise to my brothers. We all made a promise, to be there for one another no matter what, always. It hasn’t been always, and so the mark remains.”

It made sense, and you looked for more, picking out a blooming pattern across his left shoulder. “What about that one?”

“That is a mark gained by becoming a warrior in the camps. Illyrians wear these tattoos like medals of honour, the more tattoos, the more honour you have. You see how they look ever so slightly different to the promise brands?” He beckoned your clothes, and you rounded the island to observe them with more detail. A shimmer of starlight passed through the promise marks, hardly visible to the naked eye unless you really looked for it. The Illyrian swirls, however, were ink-black and ominous.

“Will you tell me about the rest someday?”

“Happily.” He whispered, muscles jumping under his skin a little as you raised a hand, not daring to touch him but tracing the air over his skin, looking at the beautiful designs that covered so much of his shoulders, arms and chest. “There’s a lot, though.”

“We have time.” You offered, and he swallowed thickly, only nodding a quiet response.

“Yes, we do.” Quiet hung between you both again, dragging on, until you finally stepped away from the magnetic pull of his space, putting a healthy amount of distance between you both. Finally, you could meet his eye again, and finally, you could take a lung-filling breath. “We should go to your apartment, and get your things.”

“I can do that.” You waved a hand, and he scoffed, slipping from his stool to deposit the used dishes into the sink to be tended to later. You made a mental note to make sure you got to them before he did, it’s the least you could do after he cooked.

“Let you go back there alone, are you crazy? Not a chance.”

“I’ve been living there for weeks just fine.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grumbled, wiping his palms across the front of his sleep pants, and shaking out his wings. “Wait here, I’ll go get dressed. You can go in that.”

His words were final, and he disappeared through the kitchen archway into the mass of shadows looking far less sleepily now. You stood no chance of following him through the house without getting entirely lost, and so you only huffed, glancing down at yourself. It would do, you supposed. It wasn’t exactly a classy part of town anyway, and your dress was far worse.

You contemplated putting your heels back on, having just about found your way to the doorway once again, taking the jacket he’d loaned you last night and shrugging it on, heels in hand as he came back. Just the look of them made your feet ache already, and you decided against it, barefoot it would have to be, even if the thought made you cringe.

When Azriel reappeared, it was in black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs, and a hoodie just as dark to match. He’d tamed the messy bed hair he’d been sporting, and donned a glowing blue siphon across the back of each hand.

He looked so normal.

“How does that work?”

“How does what work?” He asked, dropping down to begin doing up the laces on his boots, and you felt under-dressed and embarrassed, feelings you were rapidly becoming accustomed to.

“Your hoodie and your wings.” He raised a brow, straightening up as he finished tying his laces.

“They have slots of my wings that fasten underneath, just like this t-shirt and jacket.” Sliding his hand around your back, you gasped as he slipped his hands through the gaps, calloused fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back for just a second.

“I get that, I meant, do you have to get them custom made, or is there… y’know, a store. Wings R’ Us.”

He paused, staring at you in pure shock, before bursting out with laughter, and his hand tightened a little on your back, tugging you a fraction of an inch closer to him before he slipped his hand free.

“What? It’s a valid question!” You mused, but your laughter mixed with his after only a few seconds, his hand retreating to hold your arm instead. You were still laughing as shadows flocked around you, darkness consuming you both, before you were re-emerging on the street outside of your apartment building only a few seconds later.

It was even worse in the daylight, and your laughter fizzled out as you looked up at it. Broken windows, glass covering the sidewalk, dead grass and mysterious puddles all over the pathway. The door was busted in, some windows border up entirely, graffiti and gang signs and burned patches of grass. One patch still had embers flickering. Running down the steps in a disgusting stream was a fresh upchuck of vomit, the tang of it lingering in the air, threatening to turn your stomach.

“You should stay out here. I won’t be long.”

“What? I can come up with you.” He took a step towards you, and your hand pressed to his chest, fingers spreading, and your head shook softly.

“It’s fine, you just wait here.” You didn’t want him to see your apartment, the broken window you’d tried to cover yourself that let in the cold, the mould on the walls, the broken furniture and door that didn’t look properly. You weren’t sure you’d survive that humiliation, having seen his house now. Your new residence, you supposed. There was no need for him to see this.

He didn’t look too happy, gaze moving to the building when voices trickled out from inside, unpleasant curses reaching both of you through the broken windows. “Fine. But, be quick. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I know you will.” That seemed to satisfy him a little at least, and you didn’t look back at him, not as you weaved up the stairs, being careful to avoid all substances in your bare feet, and slipped through the broken entry.

The stairs were cracked and splintering as you made your way up, you wouldn't miss them even slightly, and as the shock of it all settled into acceptance, a secret smile just for yourself formed. It still felt somewhat selfish to be having what Azriel offered you, you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it, but it didn’t stop the relief, the overwhelming flood of warmth that filled you, knowing that soon enough, you’d be out of this building for good.

As you slipped through the unlocked door of your squalid apartment, you hoped to never see it again once you left.

Dragging out the solitary trunk you’d been able to travel with from under the bed, you hauled it up onto the squeaky, stained mattress. Undoing the latch, you flicked it open, dust and dirt forming in the air as you swept your hand through to clear it. Below your feet, shouting started, voices beginning to raise from a couple below who seemed to do nothing but fight through all day and night, and you sighed. You certainly would not miss them.

Slipping off Azriel’s jacket and laying it across the box, the first thing you did was find some socks, and a real pair of shoes. Finally, with them laced up and secure across your feet, you felt a little more secure with every footstep you took, no longer dodging splintered wood or hurtful shards.

After brushing your hair and washing your face, you were finally beginning to feel more like yourself again, a small back of rapidly dwindling cosmetics sitting on your broken bed. Below you once again, the fighting got even louder, before something heavy crashed, and the impact of it reverberated up the walls and shook the floorboards under your feet. You paused, the sprinkling of crumbling drywall falling to the floor as the cracks in your walls expanded.

Darkness flashed across the room, exploding out to all corners so quickly you almost missed them. Shadows darted to observe as Azriel spun in place, calculating gaze taking in everything, a dagger in one hand, shoulders squared and braced for a fight. When he deemed the space clear of immediate threat, he turned to you, shocked and shy, mortification creeping in until the edges of your vision was blurry.

“I heard a crash, and I panicked. What the Hell was— are you okay?” He was on guard again, stalking across the room to loop an arm around your waist, crushing you to his chest, and you gasped a shaky breath.

“I told you to wait outside!”

“I know, but I was worried!” A tear threatened to break loose from your eye as your body heated from head to toe, humiliation making itself known. “Let me help you pack. The sooner we get you out of here, into a place with a door that actually locks, the sooner you’ll be safe, and I’ll feel much better.”

The words echoed across the front of your mind, and you stepped away from him, emotions overwhelming as he looked at you in confusion. “How did you know about the door not locking? Did you send one of your shadows to spy on me?”

“No! Of course not.” His shoulders slumped a little, and you almost felt guilty for the accusation, his shadows coiling tighter around his body now. “They just told me when we got here, and I think some of them came with you. They kinda’ have a mind of their own sometimes. You asked me to wait, and I respected that, but I thought you might be in danger. This place is…”

Your chest felt hollow, fiery emotions pulling back and leaving you utterly drained, and you looked away from him to wipe at your cheeks and blink back tears. “This place is all I could afford. It’s not much, but it was good to me, for what I needed. I know it’s not great, I wish I’d had a chance to…” You waved a hand around the awful space, a wet and self-deprecating laugh leaving you, “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see this—”

“I grew up in a dungeon.”

“You what?” The words best out of you on a shocked breath, your upset was temporarily forgotten as you looked up to him, and he grimaced at himself just slightly. Tucking his knife back away safely behind him, he scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t… that wasn’t the best way to say that. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t judging you. I grew up in a dungeon, literally. The dark and the cold were my only friends. I would have gone crazy for a place like this as a kid, it would have been a luxury. And don’t even get me started on the trainee dorms and cabins at the camps. I don’t think I knew what it was to not live with illness from the damp or cold until Rhys’ mother took me in. I had my first ever hot bath with Cassian on one side of me and Rhys on the other.”

He reached out, taking your hand much like you had done not so long ago at breakfast, and running his thumb reassuringly over your knuckles. It took several deep, steadying breaths before you were back in control of your emotions. “I hope you don’t still bathe like that.”

“Only on special occasions.” He beamed, lifting his other hand to smooth his thumb over your cheek, before letting the both drop back to his sides. “Let me help you pack?”

“Okay.” You headed back to the bedroom, the room that undoubtedly had most of the items in, and he followed. You’d hardly brought anything with you when you travelled, moving fast and light, hoping you’d escape your meaningless life in Dawn only to end up worse here, until last night. “There’s not much to pack…”

“Then we’ll be home in no time.” Home. The word sparked through you like the ember that lit a fire, your smile beyond your control as you nodded. Azriel moved his jacket out of the way of the box, throwing it onto the dirty bedsheets, and rubbing his hands together. “I assume you’re not bringing everything.”

“Definitely not.” You shook your head, staring at the bed you’d been sleeping in, your skin crawling a little. His shoulders sagged with relief.

“Good, I have guest rooms with all the basics, you can pick any to make your own.” Once again emotions welled within you as you stared at Azriel, who had his hands resting on his hips, glancing around the room, a blue glow cast over it all now. You watched him move, taking in the space, moving towards the wardrobe on the far side of the room and swinging it open.

You were content just watching him, truly believing he wasn’t judging you now, your heart thumping in your chest as for the first time in your life, you felt supported.

He pulled back from within the wardrobe, clearing his throat and letting an item dangle from his fingers. Your jaw dropped open, everything in your head clearing out as he stared at you with wide eyes. Hanging by lacy straps was one of the items you’d bought in preparation for your new job, a garment that was nothing more than netting and threads, and barely enough to cover you from nipple to thighs. “Uh, how exactly do you put this on?”

You flew across the room, faster than you’d ever moved before, snatching it from him with wide eyes and scrunching it between your hands. There was so little fabric to it that it almost disappeared between your palms as you did so. You turned, shoving it into the corner of your case where you hoped he couldn't see it anymore, practically feeling his breathy laugh wash over you as your nerves fired on ends.

“No?” You turned back to him, a strangled sound leaving your lips as he lifted out some red mesh, waving the bodice in the air like a flag. “What about this one?”

“Stop!” You coughed, taking it and throwing it over your shoulder, not caring where it went, as mischief shone in his eyes. He didn’t look away from you as he reached in again, clearly enjoying being able to get this reaction, but you weren’t sure you could handle any more. Snatching his hands up into your own, you clutched his much larger ones tightly, pulling them to your chest and scowling up at his gleeful expression. “Stop pulling out… those items!”

“Those items are all that’s in there!”

You could only groan, and he flexed his hands in your tight grip, his knuckles brushing your collarbone lightly, and you gasped, releasing him immediately, unsure your blush could get any worse as his hands fell away from your chest. You sank to sit on the edge of the bed, covering your face in your hands, muffling another distressed groan.

Azriel took a knee before you, his fingers firmly prying your hands from your face. “Where are your real clothes?”

“In the drawers.” You sighed, waving to the rickety dresser against the far wall, and he nodded. Rising, he opened the top drawer, scooping out your folded clothes carefully and laying them in the trunk on your bed. He returned, opening another drawer, and another. “What are you doing?”

“Where are the rest?”

“That’s it.” You sighed, his brows raising high as you stood, finally retrieving the red corset from the floor and folding it neatly, before placing that inside too.

“That’s it?” He echoed, disbelief in his voice, and you only shrugged, pulling the final few items free from the wardrobe. A few more clothes, two more pairs of heels, and a single old coat you’d managed to buy here for a few coppers at a second-hand store.

“I didn’t have much to start with, I had to travel light, only what I could carry. I bought a few sets of clothes, some books, and my savings.” He retrieved said pile of books, holding them carefully and arranging them amongst the clothes, making sure not to look at the items from the wardrobe you’d carefully laid inside. “I was naïve. I thought I’d get her, to the Court of Dreams, and all my dreams would come true. I thought I’d find a job, buy more clothes, and live happily ever after. I was an idiot.”

“Hey,” He muttered, lips pursing, hand resting over your own. “You’re not an idiot. You’re optimistic, and hopeful, and that’s how it should have been. That’s the reputation this place has, it’s not your fault. You’re supposed to come here to find better, I’m sorry you didn’t.”

He spoke with such conviction on behalf of his court you almost felt like you had personally offended him, until he offered you a small smile.

“After paying the rent for this crappy place and being unable to find any other job, I invested what little of my savings I had left into those stupid clothes.” You rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on if you didn’t leave the stress of this place behind soon. “Luckily, before I ran out of money, I bought some ridiculous little baskets and a throw blanket when I first arrived, to cheer myself up. Stupid decision, really, but they were colourful, and they brightened this place up a little, and made me happy to come back to.”

You wouldn't call this place home, it had never been, and Azriel left to the rest of the cramped space, wings tucked tight. You sealed up the box again, brushing your hands across the top of it now that it held everything you owned, and lifted it to the floor. It was barely any heavier than when you’d first arrived.

He returned, clutching your two baskets in hand, and he throw-rug rolled up neatly and placed inside of one. They made you smile, the first purchases you’d made upon getting here that were purely for indulgence. “They’re kinda’ tacky, I know, but—”

“I love them.” Azriel left no room for argument on it, his tone final, and you pressed your lips together to hide the size of the grin you wanted to offer. “Is this truly everything?”

“Everything I want to bring.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.” He jerked his chin, motioning you forward, his arms full but you freed a hand to settle on his arm, and darkness wrapped around you both again to move you through the shadows.

Back to safety and comfort, it was an effort to step away from Azriel’s side, even when you were within the walls of his home once again. Your home now, too.

Putting down the baskets and the blanket, Azriel took the trunk from your hands, motioning to the stairs with his free one. “Let’s get you settled in, huh? Before you decide to back out on me again.”

“Oh, shut it.” Your scowl only made him laugh, following you up the stairs towards the upper level of the house. He took over, guiding you down corridors you vaguely recognised from this morning, and you knew that you’d either have to ask him for a tour or do some serious exploring before you knew this place properly, but you’d have plenty of time for that.

Azriel had paused before a smaller door, solid wood frame and a panelled white door, closed currently. He tapped his knuckles on the frame, before twisting the knob and letting the door swing open. Inside was spacious, natural light flooded in from all corners, and if you’d thought the wide halls and floor-to-ceiling windows were grand, this was something else. Decorated much like the rest of the house, with simple tones of cream and beige, this room was one of the most beautiful.

A bed the same size as Azriel’s sat against the far wall, accessible from both sides with no cramping, and delicate gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze. Through one archway was a whole walk-in closet, with endless empty racks and drawers for you to fill, a whole wall designed for shoes. Through the other cracked door, you could see tiles and a tub, an ensuite bathroom for your personal usage, just like Azriel’s room.

There was a desk, a wall of bookshelves with a few trinkets and half-burned candles on, and a small armchair sitting just beneath them.

“This is your guest room?” You sputtered, and Azriel only leaned on the doorway as you stepped inside, taking it all in, from the paintings hung on the wall to the ornate faelights.

“Sometimes Mor stays over, she prefers this room. Cassian prefers the other guest room, he says it has a better view of the mountains.”

“Mor?” You echoed, tracing your fingers over the silky bedsheets and biting back a smile, that same feeling that none of this could be real coming rushing back, with force.

“Morrigan.” The name flashed through you from his stories last night, and your back straightened a little.

“She won’t mind if I use this room, though?”

“Mor hardly stays over, and she never stays the same time as Cassian. She can use the other guest room, you seem to like this one.” His tone got lighter toward the end, and you couldn’t agree more, barely containing your expression of joy.

“I do like this room.” You let go with a dreamy sigh, and Azriel placed your case just inside the door, sinking into the soft carpet. Your gaze moved back to him, from the flicker of a smile on his lips, to the spark in his eyes, to the casual slump of his wings behind himself. Shadows were slipping in around him, exploring this room too and dancing around your legs. Striding back to him, you clasped both of his hands in your own, searching his eyes once more, just to be sure. “Are you certain about this, Azriel?”

“There are very few things I ever say I am absolutely certain of, I am not a man of exaggerations or hyperbole. I value statistics, and realism, and honesty.” Azriel squeezed your hands when your throat bobbed, “But I can say with total confidence that this, that you, are one thing I am sure of.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He squeezed once more, before letting go, and standing back from you. “Unpack your things, and then meet me downstairs when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut behind him when he went, leaving you alone for a while to admire your new bedroom. It was bigger than your whole apartment had been, luxurious and ornate and beautiful.

It didn’t take you long to unpack your things, putting each different item in a different drawer one for shirts, one for pants, one for pyjamas. You hung your coat up on a stray hanger, and placed your few pairs of shoes into the first of the many cubbies lining one whole wall, already picturing how beautiful it would look when it was full.

Stacking your few books on the bookshelf, you arranged them alongside Morrigan’s half-burned candles, sniffling each one, and approving each time. You re-fluffed the pillows of the armchair, and then the bed, the shadows watching you explore the whole room with excitement.

Lastly, you toed off your current shoes, setting them neatly by the door, before padding into the ensuite bathroom.

Pale brown stone tiles lined the floor, white tiles lined the walls, with exposed wooden beams just like the rest of the house, pulling it all together. A few soaps and oils sat along one shelf in the shower, with more stashed in a cupboard that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling. Neatly folded towels filled a rack in the corner, the cotton warm to the touch as it was coated in golden sunlight, with bounced from every mirror and made the room glow.

Half sunken into the floor, entirely separate from the shower, was a large bathtub, big enough to accommodate anyone with wings even if they spread them out, and when you sat in the empty tub, you could hardly reach the sides with your arms stretched out.

Your cheeks almost hurt from grinning so much by the time you got control of yourself again, beginning your exploratory mission throughout the house to try and find your way once again.

It wasn’t as hard this time, the third time you’d made the journey, all of it finally starting to feel a little easier. Even if you did cheat a little, following the floral smell of whatever tea Azriel had busied himself with brewing while he waited. He wasn’t in the kitchen when you found him, though.

He was in a room you hadn't seen before, the living room, a space somehow even bigger than your bedroom and his. Combined. The fireplace was crackling to life, the quiet pops of logs sounding through the space, and another tray of tea sat out on the table. He was sitting in one of the many armchairs that were designed to accommodate wings, low-backed couches and loungers filling the room, making it look cosy and inviting.

All the books on these shelves were lined up neatly, arranged in groups with ornaments and trinkets splitting them up, the kinds of things you’d never seen before, surely mementoes from his travels all across the continent and beyond. Hanging over the fireplace was a portrait, snow outside the windows and a Solstice tree full of presents, with what seemed to be Azriel’s entire family gathered around, smiling happily. Even the infant heir was present, little Lord Nyx as a baby, sitting on his mother’s lap.

“Feyre painted it, it was a gift for my birthday last year.”

“When is your birthday?” Your attention moved to Azriel as he stood, smirking and moving to pour a second cup of tea. He told you as he moved, and you stored the information away for later, making sure you’d do something special for it. He asked for your own, information which you happily offered in return for the mug he left on the table for you.

As you stepped closer to the chair beside his own, you spotted your baskets, sitting in a neat stack beside the fire. Decorative and perfectly imperfect in the space, a disbelieving laugh on your lips. On the back of the couch was your blanket, thrown artistically over the cushions, and a squeak left your lips as you saw them.

It was the final drop, the bit that sent every other emotion overflowing within you until tears of happiness were lining your eyes. Seeing them here, so simple but it meant so much to you, and you raced to him, until your arms circled his middle, face pressing into the centre of his chest. You nuzzled in close, overwhelmed by your emotions, overwhelmed by him, and letting out a shaky sound that was muffled by his hoodie.

“Is this okay?” You mumbled, twisting to the side, to press your cheek over his heart instead, the same way he’d fallen asleep on you last night, and the stiffness of his body melted away. His arms wrapped around you, so tight you swore he’d never let you go as he hauled you even closer to himself.

“Yes,” His response was breathy, just as timid as your question had been, but laced with so much emotion it practically lanced right through you. His cheek came down to rest atop your head, kissing your hair before he was hugging you just as desperately as you were him.

“Y’know, this is really nice,” You sniffed, laughing through the tears that were going to break free any second, and relishing the affection he was giving to you. “I think we’re going to work out just fine.”

“I think so too, sweetheart.”

#SLS #sweet like sugar #azriel/you #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar/you #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar x reader #acotar

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lovethetasteofnothing · 1 year

Text

Halloween headcanons - TF 141 + Valeria + Farah

includes: valeria garza, farah karim, kate laswell, simon "ghost" riley, captain john price, johnny "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick

gn!reader, except for Laswell x fem!reader (argue w the wall), female pet names

warnings: horny behaviour if you squint, like very little; mentioned consumption of alcohol; mentions of violence (light); the rest is pure fluff

word count: 2.4k words, roughly 350 per character

Valeria Garza

you asked her to go Halloween shopping since you wanted to decorate

got everything you laid eyes on

you had to stop her from buying three plastic skeletons because you joked about having an army of them in your backyard as decorations

she'll use her enemies bodies instead

doesn't let you put out candy on the porch, the last thing she needs is little kids coming up to her door and being loud

buys you bags of candy instead

regrets it because you get a sugar rush after eating a whole bowl

now she has a hyperactive toddler running around, spewing out random facts she found on YouTube

would make you try Mexican candy, definitely sneaks something spicy in there if your spice tolerance isn't high

"Que pasa? Can't handle the heat, muñequita?"

you hold a grudge for the rest of the night (she'll make you forget about it when she gets you in bed dw)

refuses to dress up, will punish you if you try and get a costume on her

will fold if you ask her to have matching costumes with her, still won't do it because she's "a grown woman"

takes candid photos of you in your cute little costume tho, she'll probably make one of them her background if she figures out how to

forces her men to dress up in whatever you want just to entertain you, they don't dare complain about it

the guards at your door are now dressed in Eminem and Christina Aguilera (don't ask me why)

will force you to have a scary movie marathon with her

laughs at you when you get scared and cling to her, literally calls you a crybaby and bullies you for being a scaredy cat

will snuggle you and kiss your forehead afterwards

"it's okay, mi vida, I'll protect you"

ordered her personal chef to make you Halloween themed cookies

practically folds when she sees your reaction

you get another sugar rush and she regrets everything (worth seeing your cute face and hearing your happy squeal)

Farah Karim

will plan your matching couple costumes since june

helps you thrift/craft yours and constantly compliments how you look in it

would definitely buy a ton of candy to give out to little kids trick-or-treating

is so happy when she sees their little costumes, practically heals her inner child

she has baby fever now, you have to remind her she can't get you pregnant

is searching up adoption details at 3 am after you fall asleep

helps you decorate, would definitely let you decorate since August just to see your cute face light up

adds more decorations every time she sees something you'd like and buys it

you made her watch Halloween movies with you

she judges everyone's decisions and logic

starts spewing an escape plan 5 times better and doesn't stop until she finishes it

is confused when you flinch at the scary scenes since she had seen it coming from a mile away

not surprised when you try to make sweet treats but you pull out questionable goop out of the oven

"i told you that's too much butter"

helps (pushes you to the side and only lets you crack an egg) you make an edible batch instead

lets you decorate them, you manage to make two piping bags explode before she takes over again

she hides the cookies before you get a sugar rush and/or a tummy ache

is confused as to how you found them and got both a sugar rush and a tummy ache

scolds you like a mom before taking care of you

you fall asleep in her arms on the couch, Friday the 13th playing in the background

she tucks you in bed and kisses your forehead before going to look up how to adopt a devil child

Kate Laswell x fem!reader

isn't the biggest fan of Halloween but she'd play along with you, she just wants to see you enjoying yourself

mom!Laswell would dress up at your request so you guys can have family costumes, melts at how cute you and your kid/s look together

but if it is just you and her she'd refuse

similar to Valeria, she says she's too old to dress up in silly costumes

the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips if you decided to wear a sexy costume before she rolls her eyes

proud mom smile while she takes candids of you in your cute little outfit, handing out candy to kids

so concerned when she hears about carving pumpkins

keeps a very very sharp eye on you, she doesn't want to go to the ER on halloween

helps you out when you get stuck, groans and pushes through if she starts struggling with it too

a sigh of relief leaves her lips when you finish your arts and crafts project

"it looks scary, darling" no it doesn't, but who is she to tell you that and ruin your fun

pulls out the old decorations box from the attic and helps you buy new stuff too, makes the plan on how to decorate

brings you to the halloween themed party TF 141 is holding so you can be chaotic with them while she drinks with Price

if she doesn't feel like it she'd just stay at home with you, watching you hand out candy to kids and cracking little jokes

her heart melts

refuses to let you watch horror movies, the last time you did she had to sing you a lullaby until you fell asleep

every day for a week; she also had to buy a night light because you got a random fear of the dark afterwards

you made her check the closet too

also limits your candy intake, would steal a few from your pile every once in a while and shrug when you frowned at her

candy corn enjoyer, also licorice fan

has you wrapped up in her arms, a blanket over the both of you while she tells you scary stories/ stories from her missions instead

Simon "Ghost" Riley

doesn't need a costume, he's dressing up as himself, the mask is scary enough as is

or he'd just take off the mask and say he's dressed up as Simon Riley, you call him a party pooper

you dress up as him just because you can

doesn't know if he should be upset or flattered, he's crying in his head at how cute you look with his oversized clothes and old balaclava

that's now his favorite balaclava

swaps out his mask for a balaclava so you guys can call yourselves Ghost Team

stares at you when you carve pumpkins with his throwing knives, you're lucky you're his favorite person

pries them out of your hands before you dull the blades and he has to work with oddly shaped spoons on missions

stands concerningly still on the porch and scares little kids when they come to knock on your door (like those decorations that move yk)

lets you hand out candy and coo at the little kids while he watches from the hallway (he thinks he's sneaky, he's not)

he now too has baby fever

will not mention it but you can notice him inching closer until he stands right behind you while you give out the candy, his hand wrapped around your waist

you both finish the leftover candy while watching scary movies

he feels like a little kid again, would never fess up about it being healing for him

picks out your favorite candy and gives it to you subtly, literally just makes a little pile of it in the middle while he eats the rest

would complain about you decorating since the beginning of september

has beef with a random skeleton you put up

"he's looking at me funny, luv"

picks you up while you decorate and can't reach a spot

he'd deal with the electrical decorations for you

you make him try a pumpkin spice latte

he tries so hard to be nice about it before saying he had enough sugar for the whole year

"this is milk and sugar with an idea of what coffee is supposed to be like"

cleans up the candy wrappers after you crash, takes a sneaky picture of you sleeping with his balaclava on

takes it off gently because you'd manage to suffocate in it, before tucking you in

Captain John Price

rakes up the leaves in the yard while you decorate the outside

he has to do it again because you insist on jumping in the piles and destroying his hard work

makes you help him gather the leaves again "to teach you a lesson", you never learn

picks the leaves out of your hair and dusts you off (all smiley when he notices you were wearing his flannel jacket)

doesn't want to dress up so you say that he's already wearing a capybara costume everyday

you have to explain what a capybara is

proud dad face when he sees you wearing your costume

makes you do a twirl and takes so many pictures of you so he can keep them and look at them when on mission

helps you hand out candy to the little demons

gets upset when a kid calls him 'grandpa', you have to spend at least 15 minutes telling him that he's a dilf not that old and still very attractive

dad face™ when he sees you giggling and playing around with the little kids, needs one of his own with you now

kinda sad that his job makes it so hard for him to have a cute little family with you

falls asleep on the couch while you give out candy, probably sitting up too, a bowl of candy in his lap

plays it off by saying he was just taking a little rest, you call him 'grandpa' again to tease him

doesn't notice you had been stealing candy throughout the whole night, managing to eat about an entire bag by the end of the day

holds you in his arms and tries to contain your sugar rush

you kick him where the sun don't rise on accident and that's when he lets you get your wiggles out, poor pop

you apologize by bringing him a drink and cuddling him for the rest of the night, consistently saying "sorry" every five minutes or so

"it's alright, darlin' "

you offer to share the leftover candy with him as a peace offering, pop is now a puddle

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

definitely has a dorky costume and makes you match with him

you and him have a competition about who has the better costume, he only lets you win because you're cute

still thinks his is better but he wants cuddles tonight and can't risk it

finds dumb decorations when you go shopping with him and when you tell him to put them back he sneaks them into the basket like a little kid

you wake up with the decorations in front of your eyes at the cash register and have to pay for them now

he insists on coming up with the most horrendous decorating schemes ever known to man, you follow some of them because he's sulking atp

tries to convince you to have some kind of small explosion "for effect", you turn it down because you don't want to get sued

frowns when kids get his costume wrong, chases them (playfully ofc) around to teach them a lesson

definitely scares you with every occasion he gets, you'd literally turn the corner and he'd just jump at you

you make him watch the actually scary movies because you're a horror enthusiast

"pff i've seen worse on the field" before clinging to your arm like the scaredy cat he is

carves pumpkins with you, oddly skilled at it

he helps you when your knife gets stuck in the pumpkin and your hand hurts from trying to dislodge it

blows up his pumpkin afterwards

takes couple pics with you, the sillier the better. they're his lockscreen now, will brag about them when he goes back to work

he'd try and go trick or treating before you tell him he's too old to do that

you spend the rest of the night on the couch, finishing off the leftover candy, the both of you hyperactive

would fight you because he likes the same candy as you, he wins and steals all of it

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

you make him dress up as spider man (that one mission in MW 2019), he's on board after a bit of convincing

only accepts because you promise to be his MJ

does the spider man kiss thing with you and takes pics, definitely brags about how easy it is for him to hang like that after all of those heli crashes

does whatever TikTok trend is popular at that time with you, tries to get it perfect so you can show it off to your friends afterwards

helps you choose decorations when you're being indecisive, also buys little things he thinks you'd like to add in the meantime

he'd 100% untangle the string lights while you put them up (also keeping an eye on the chair you're standing on so you don't fall)

you do actually lose your balance but he's quick on his feet and catches you, the most cocky smirk on his lips while you're blushing and your heart is beating so fast it might explode

he'd scare you too, just so he can make fun of you. also pulls random pranks on you and hides the decorations just so you can whine and complain to him

"I told you to stop being such a ditz, love" with the most loverboy grin on his face

you send him on a last minute errand to buy candy because the two of you only got your favorite kinds and you decided to hoard them for later

compliant boy, also buys you a fall themed drink on his way back

his hand is constantly around your waist or around your shoulders while handing out candy

would ask kids what they're dressed up as and gives the ones with cool costumes extra candy

you scold him for being unfair

you both decided to do a childhood halloween movie marathon, makes you feel like you're a little kid again

trades candy with you, tries to bribe you with cuddles to give him more of yours

cuddlebug!gaz who lets you fall asleep on his lap while he watches the rest of the movie (he stole the rest of your candy, your fault for letting your guard down)

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