#he acts like a thomas though

[starlight-archer]

The Cat King: I'll stop playing nice! You hear me? I will stop fucking playing nice!

Also The Cat King: "Edwin has been through more pain than you or I could ever imagine"

*gets beaten to death with a stick for warning Edwin about the trap*

"Hey! Keep your paws off of him!"

*proceeds to give Crystal and Niko info that will help them rescue Edwin*

[limeartichoke]

if you're wondering yes this does in fact happen AFTER tim punches skully in the jaw after introducing themselves with brian's face

unedited under cut!

[borgialucrezia]

peaky blinders — 3x06 created by steven knight

[bruhstation]

the journey of gordon juniperus gresley (and still ongoing)

[deviousdiesel]

.

[barris-ftw]

yesyesyesyesyes

Downton Abbey: A New Era

A/N: The fact that they made a comment about how a Myrna was nicer now because she wasn't afraid anymore and then the camera immediately panned to show Thomas absolutely kills me.

[eclips-moon]

The Batboys being clingy headcanon:

Including Duke and Bruce <3

Hope you guys like it!

Tim Drake Tim’s clinginess is low-key, but it’s also constant. He’s the type to text you “What’s up? I miss you <3” while you’re just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, he’s immediately there, like, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” He’ll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, he’s definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, he’s following you. He’ll slip his arm around your waist, all like, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He’s not a big PDA guy, but when it’s just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. He’s gotta be touching you constantly.

Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. He’s that partner who’ll try to act like he’s tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, he’s all over you. Like, you can’t just hug him. No. He’ll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. He’s gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecks—he wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that you’re his. If you’re doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, he’ll try to drag you away, be like, “Hey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.” He’s possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, he’ll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, “You good? You’re not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?” He’s also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.

Dick Grayson Dick’s clingy energy is pure gold. He’s the most affectionate of the bunch and doesn’t shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. He’ll text you “miss you <3” every few hours when you’re apart, and when you’re together? It’s all about touch. He’s sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If you’re watching a movie, he’s definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and he’ll melt. He’ll whine like, “I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. But also, I love it. So don’t stop.” Honestly, Dick doesn’t care if he’s acting like a bit of a puppy—he’s obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.

Damian Wayne Damian’s clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesn’t need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? He’s all in. He’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it like it’s the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, he’ll growl and pull you back in, like, “Where are you going? You’re staying right here.” He has this whole vibe of “I don’t need anyone else, just you”, so if you’re talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, “I don’t think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.” In bed? He’s a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like he’s never letting you go. He’s all about the intimacy, though—when it’s just the two of you, he’ll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.

Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way that’s goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, he’s tagging along. You’re going to the kitchen? He’s there. To grab something from the laundry room? He’s there. If you sit down, he’s sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to “cuddle and watch dumb shows together.” He’s always finding excuses to touch you—like, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or he’ll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you don’t give him attention? He’ll pout, even if he’s trying to play it off, like, “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He’s the type who’ll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, “Don’t go. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s all about the hugs, especially after a long day. You’ll be just chilling, and suddenly he’s like, “Hug time, right? Let me get one.”

Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit he’s clingy. He’s still the stoic, brooding billionaire who’s been through a lot, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s softer than anyone expects. He’ll always make sure you’re physically close—his hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if he’s standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When you’re working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. He’s not great at asking for attention, but when he’s feeling clingy, he’ll show you through little gestures. You’ll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. He’s a man of few words, but when he’s clingy, it’s all about the touch—the way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how he’ll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure you’re safe.

[chilumi-shipper]

Little Lamb (3)

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader / Wanderer x Fem!Reader / Alhaitham x Fem!Reader x Kaveh

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Lambgirl!Reader, Dumb and Innocent Reader, Manipulation, Pseudoincest, Size Kink, Overstimulation, Praise, Slight Degradation

Summary: Genshin men fucking innocent little lambgirl you.

Go check out the other boys (Diluc, Kaeya, and Xiao) and (Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha, and Thoma).

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Kamisato Ayato

His parents took you in when you were both just little kids.

The young Ayato's curiosity about you began the very moment you entered the estate with a confused look on your face.

"Ayato, this is Y/N. She really needs our help." His mother was gentle when she introduced you to him.

His mother said to him in a soft voice, she spoke about how you were a poor, helpless girl that they rescued from Kairagi Samurais who were planning to sell you because of your extraordinary features.

Young Ayato's hands couldn't help but reach out for your soft and cute ears in fascination, but you backed away before he could feel the fur of your ear on the pads of his fingers.

"Oh, she's a little shy. But I hope you can treat her like a sister." You hid behind his mother, looking at him as he stares at his mother in disbelief.

"Is that understood, my darling?"

His light purple eyes stared at your small form, looking up at him with such innocent and soft eyes.

"I don't want her as my sister." Tears welled up in your eyes as you hear the young boy say those words.

"...Ayato?!" His mother was at a loss for words, she didn't expect such an answer from her well-mannered son.

When you were rescued, you heard all about Ayato and Ayaka, the former was still a baby, but you were told that Ayato was a kind-hearted and polite boy, and that he will surely accept you within his home.

A family is something that you have always wanted.

Ayato knows that. Although... he has never viewed you as a sister, back when he was a child, you somewhat acted like a pet, especially towards his parents. And now, you act like a servant, constantly trying your best to please him in hopes that he starts to view you as family.

That was all you wanted, so for so many years, you have done everything in your power to meet the young lord's expectations.

As you both grow older though, his demands turned... more unusual.

Your tasks are not akin to the ones of a regular servant.

According to him, your tasks are... more of familial matters, something more important.

"I c-can't... I-I can't do it, Ayato..." Your whimper was accompanied by a few sniffles, tears coating your eye as you held your body up on top of him.

He wrapped his hand around his dick, caressing your folds with his tip. "But it would really really make me happy if you ride me, darling." He pouts at you, and you could only look away for that was your greatest weakness.

You were both fully naked, him laying on his bed and you holding yourself up to try and straddle him. However, for the past five minutes, you were only able to get the tip of his cock in before you turn into a whimpering mess.

"But Ayato... It h-hurts." You frowned at him, your ears folding as a sign of your sadness.

He sighs, his hips shooting forward a little to push some of his length into your cunt. "There..." He grunts in your ear, causing an uncontrollable wiggle of your tail that somehow always happens when he does something like that. "Now keep going..."

You felt his hand tighten around your waist, probably due to your pussy immediately clamping down on him despite not even half being pushed in.

After a few seconds, you try again, pushing yourself down on his length to take him in some more.

You cry out only halfway in, looking desperately in his eyes and shaking your head. "No no! Ayato, I can't..."

You just couldn't anymore, normally, he would be the one to do all the work of fucking you. You felt ashamed, not even being able to fulfill his request.

Ayato merely sighed in disappointment, before switching your position so that he was on top of you. Then, he slammed his cock all the way in, making you scream out in euphoria as you cling on to him for dear life.

He breathes heavily as he fucks into you, "When you can finally do what I ask you to do, perhaps... I'll finally acknowledge you as family."

Underneath him, you acquire some new-found determination, next time, you will try your best so that you can finally be a proper Kamisato.

Scaramouche (Wanderer)

Nahida has been hearing the prayer of a certain lamb girl trying to get into the Akademiya. She senses the pure heart and determination within you and decides that she will help you out.

"I know someone that can tutor you so you can pass your entrance exam!"

And that's why you ended up in the home of a grumpy looking scholar with a big hat. You smiled brightly at him, clutching your books to your chest.

"Lesser Lord Kusanali said you're really smart and that you would love to help me!" You looked at him expectantly, not faltering under his intense gaze.

Much to his annoyance, he couldn't possibly go against Nahida, so he opted to sit you down and actually try to teach you.

Quickly did his annoyance grow when he realized that nothing sticks to that brain of yours except food and delusions. You talk all about getting into the Akademiya but you could not even grasp the easiest subject in the entrance exam.

Your first session wasn't the best, you left his home disappointed and Wanderer knew that Nahida would question him about what had happened and why you looked so sad.

For your second session, Nahida gave him an advice: "Why don't you try quizzing her and giving a prize when she gets a question right. Don't put her down with those insults you usually give."

This ultimately sparks an idea in his head.

You were bent over his counter top, your skirt hiked up and your underwear on the ground. You breathe heavily and closed your eyes as he sinks his cock deeper into you.

"Now... which Darshan in the Akademiya specializes in biology, and the study of medicine?" He whispers in your ear, and he almost chuckles as he sees your tail wiggle, which he know at that point means that you know the answer.

"Amurta!" You answered enthusiastically, your legs twitching as he starts to play with your clit with his fingers.

"That's a good girl..." He started to thrust slowly into you as he plays with your clit. You moaned, feeling warm from his rare praise.

It's simple really, nothing is a greater prize for you than receiving praise, feeling good all over. He knows that you would do anything to be called a good girl, to be acknowledged as smart, you have always been submissive like that.

He's been setting up quizzes like these ever since your second session, and it's proven effective, if you get a question correct, he starts to fuck you play with your body the way you like, throwing in a praise to get you going, but if you get it wrong or take too long to answer, you get a spank and most likely get degraded by him. If you pass the quiz, you get to cum and be treated like perfect little princess, if you fail, you get to go home with a red butt and watery eyes.

"What is the name of the border that separates the desert and the rain forest?"

Your blood runs cold, and he notices it immediately. You know that one, but for some reason it's blurry in your mind.

Wall... Wall of... Saa...

Smack. You yelp as you feel a slap land on you clit. He feels you squeeze around him in surprise, making him thrust according to what speed he wants..

"Wall of Samiel." He spits out, roughly pounding into you. "Stupid slut."

"I-I knew that!" You cried, feeling disappointed that you couldn't piece it together in your mind faster. You cling onto the counter as his brutal thrusts shake your whole body.

At the end of that session, you got an 13/20. Could be better but he decides to let you cum that day, as well as fill you up with his own seed before cleaning you up and sending you on your merry way.

"Bye bye, Hat Guy! Tomorrow, I promise you don't have to spank me once!" You waved him goodbye, oblivious to the weirded out stare the people passing by gave you. You merely thought about how many praises you're gonna get tomorrow.

Alhaitham and Kaveh

He really should charge Kaveh twice as much of his rent.

"...and you will be staying in my room with me!" Kaveh exclaimed excitedly as he proudly presented to you his room.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the well-kept room, everything neatly in place, thought there were some crumpled paper pooling from his desk, and the decor well-chosen for his own preferences.

"Woahhh!"

As your eyes scanned the room, Alhaitham managed to catch your gaze, merely standing on your left with his arms crossed.

"I don't seem to remember allowing someone else to live in my house." He spoke directly to Kaveh, before he focused his eyes on your ears sitting on top of your head. "Or do you plan to excuse her as your 'pet'?"

You hide behind Kaveh, hoping he would jab at the gray-haired man for you.

"This is both our house, I pay the rent too y'know!"

"Barely."

"Whatever, you just don't understand what being kind is." Kaveh grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room, before shutting the door in Alhaitham's face.

"Ignore that guy... he's just a bitter lonely scholar!" The blonde said the last part particularly loud, intending to let his roommate hear what he said.

You giggled, nodding as you take in the room you'll be sleeping in.

Kaveh isn't coming home tonight. Apparently, he's gonna be spending the entire night at the Akademiya working on a project that he's been neglecting for a month.

That leaves you all alone with the gray-haired man that you fear so much. Though, without Kaveh to rile him up, he's quite nice to you.

He even made dinner for you and him to share.

As you ate, you keep thinking about Kaveh, if he's gonna come home or not. You've never slept alone, and you are quite afraid.

Alhaitham took note of your troubled expression, "Kaveh isn't coming home tonight." He says, and you begin to panic, shaking in your seat.

"I-I can't..." You shake your head, looking down with watery eyes. "Can't sleep... a-alone."

He merely sighs, not wanting to hear the bleats of a panicked lamb in the middle of the night. "Sleep with me then."

...

He didn't expect to see you fully undress yourself after bringing your pillows into his room. "What are you doing?"

You look up at his clothed form, looking at him as if he's the crazy one for not taking off every garment on his body for bed. "Kaveh says that the only way to sleep right is if you sleep fully naked."

You took off your underwear, making Alhaitham sigh, "Did he now...?" His words were laced with skepticism that you were too stupid to notice.

You nod, making your little nest on your side of his bed. "Mhhmh, the air is nice and chilly, and the blanket keeps you warm." You cover yourself with his blanket. "You should listen more to Kaveh, Mr. Alhaitham, he's smart and nice and caring...."

"And stupid..." He muttered under his breath, taking off his top to expose his toned upper half. Despite his suspicion on what exactly happens in the confines of Kaveh's room, he can't exactly deny his intrigue in you, so he indulges.

He rids himself of his clothes, his weight dipping into the cushions as he lays next to you. Under the blanket, the skin of his muscular arm feels the pads of your searching fingers. He turns to you, seeing you already looking at him while your hands finally wrap around his arm.

You look cautiously at him, all while you guide his hand between your legs. "Did Kaveh teach you this too?" Alhaitham looks at you unbothered, letting you place his fingers against your core.

"Yeahh... when I can't sleep... iiih" You squeal out when his fingers start moving to rub your clit. You held onto his wrist, ever so slowly grinding down on his hand.

Alhaitham pries his hand from your hold, making you whimper as you chase after his touch. "How lazy..." He shakes his head, sitting up to position himself above you. "When you go back to his room tomorrow, why don't you show him what I'm gonna teach you."

You look at him curiously, his hand reaches for his cock, holding it at the base and nudging the tip at you clit. He rubs the tip continuously at it, occasionally running through your hole.

You instinctively open your legs wider for him, moaning as you feel wetness pool out of your pussy. "M-Mr. Alhaitham..." Your ears fold, feeling overwhelmed by such a large thing being pressed against your sensitive part.

As he moves to line up his length to your cunt, his tip leaving your clit covered in his precum, he feels the vibration of your shaking tail near your heat.

"Excited?" Alhaitham scoffs at the sight of your hole leaking with cum as he pressed his tip against it.

You nod, a deep blush evident on your face. "M-Mr. Alhaitham... I like this..." You let him know, nodding at your self-realization.

He eases himself inside you, breathing heavily at how you clamp down on him immediately. "Kaveh ought to treat his little pet better, I bet fingers aren't enough to get you off now, huh?"

Feeling how incredibly tight you are, Alhaitham grips your waist for support, pulling you closer to sink himself deeper into you. You flutter around him so sweetly, welcoming his cock with such warmth and pleasure that it has him lost for words.

Soon enough, he pounds away at you, hitting your sweet spot that pushes you to let out some cute little bleats. While you were losing your mind being fucked by his cock, his expression was as if he was reading a book, blank and intense.

While you were tearing up from the pleasure, slurring as you say his name over and over, your body shaking, he rams into you with feverish intensity, so composed and dominant.

It's when he combines his fingers, rubbing at your clit, with his hard thrusts did you finally scream so loud at him. "M-MR. ALHAI.... AHHH." You held desperately onto his wrist, trying to ease of of the pressure off your pussy, but he was relentless.

"Cum with me." He says so stoically, but it remains a command in your ears, even if you don't necessarily know what it means.

You let go of... something... a knot-like feeling in your tummy, and next thing you know, there was something incredibly hot flowing inside you, filling you up with warmth.

Alhaitham pulls out, and you get a glimpse of his softening cock with cum still staining the tip. "Tell your beloved Kaveh that that's how you get a little lamb to sleep." As he mentions it, you feel your eyes droop, tiredness taking over you after that mind numbing orgasm.

"I will, Mr. Alhaitham..."

...

"He did what?"

You merely nodded at his question, pointing at his pants. "Yes, Master Kaveh... with his cock, almost like yours!"

You were sat naked on his bed, nice and ready for bed, and as Kaveh was reaching out for you to initiate your nightly routine, you started to talk about last night.

"I really like what Mr. Alhaitham did, Master Kaveh. He's really good!" You smiled all innocently at him, unaware of the current eruption of emotions in his mind.

"Good, huh?" Kaveh places himself on top of you, pinning your hands on the bed. "That's the last time I'm spending the night at the Akademiya."

He reaches out to kiss at your fluffy ears, just like he knows you love. "Since you loved it so much, why don't I show you how it's really done. I'm sure Alhaitham is to stiff to let you get the full experience."

You feel your tail shake with excitement, and as he noticed it, he smiled, his hand reaching to rub your glistening pussy.

Long story short, Alhaitham hears some bed creaking and loud bleats from a certain lambgirl coming from Kaveh's room for many hours that night.

He's had a chance to think about it...

Perhaps if that cute little lamb would accompany him in his room more often, then he can let Kaveh get away with not paying rent for a couple of weeks.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Little Lamb in this day and age?!?! (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠)

Hahahahah, yeahhh, it's been a while, I hope you enjoyed!

[see-arcane]

You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

 - Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves—he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

 2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

[toxicanonymity]

The Stitch

PAIR: THOMAS HEWITT X READER

WORD COUNT: 3.6k | THE SPREAD UNIVERSE one shot

SUMMARY: A stranger tries to get into the shed. You help Tommy when he's hurt and... hungry, then sit in his lap.

WARNINGS: 18+ Smut*, stockholm syndrome, violence off screen, blood, giving stitches, hand kink, light angst & dark fluff. *oral, squirting, captivity dubcon, unsafe cockwarming-adjacent piv, creampie. Feral/soft Tommy, leather muzzle.

SIZE KINK: Tommy is a strong, hefty 6'5", reader much smaller.

Ty for your enthusiasm for this fic! Ty @dark-scape for title help and @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the ⛓️ divider. 🖤

It was dusk when you spotted a man prowling around, then you ducked away from the shed’s clouded window and pretended not to see. Time crawled by–-you didn’t know how much–-as you sat frozen, afraid of making any noise at all. The wind howled, and twigs snapped in the woods behind the shed. You would’ve felt safer with Tommy nearby, but he must have been dead asleep after his family worked him hard all day.

You finally let yourself relax enough to fall asleep, only for chains to rattle on the outside of the shed. 

“C’mon,” the stranger pleaded to himself, then whisper-shouted into the distance, “hurry up, Ronnie!” followed by a startled “oh shit.”

You recognized Tommy's footsteps as he lumbered across the yard.

Huddled in the corner of the shed, you held your breath and listened to the ruckus just outside. You were pulling for your captor. He had committed violent acts, but he didn't seem like a violent man at heart. You felt sure he wouldn’t hurt you… even though he already had. 

Arms wrapped around your knees, you pulled your hands into your oversized sleeves and gripped the fabric with your fists.

“Get outta here, freak!” the man yelled. 

Tommy grunted. 

“Ronnie!” the man pleaded to his friend who was nowhere in sight. Then he warned Tommy, “Don’t do it man. My buddy’s got a gun.” 

Tommy’s grunt sounded almost like a laugh. 

“There’s more of us too,” the trespasser claimed, then muttered, “shit.” 

Shoes scraped against dirt. The shed door shook with an impact, and chains rattled. The man coughed and tried to vocalize. His shoes thumped and slid against the wood, with his feet unable to reach the ground. Tommy held him by the neck with just one hand. The struggle continued. 

The man went quiet, and Tommy grumbled indistinctly. 

Dead weight hit the ground. 

There was shuffling, dragging, and a few seconds later, the wet thwack of sharp metal through bone.  

-

Tommy caught his breath, then came around toward your window. His massive shadow was just visible enough in the dark to make his presence known. He tapped the glass with one knuckle, then you approached and lifted the curtain. 

He had an ax slung over his shoulder.

He braced his other hand on the shed, to the side of the window. Then, he stopped down to rest his forehead gently against the glass. Below his half-muzzle, his breath fogged the window and his chest heaved. The glass was cloudy, but you still felt his eye contact. You looked at each other, then he pulled back, leaving a smear high on the glass where his forehead had been. He gave you a nod that felt like a promise—he’d come back.

When you peeked out the window again, Tommy was walking toward the main house with the man’s body slung over his shoulder. The head and arms hung limply over Tommy’s back. The guy’s head was dripping into the dirt. In Tommy’s other hand, he held his ax, letting it hang by his side in a loose grip. He was unbothered by the prospect of another man to fight. 

You sat in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, trying to calm yourself enough to get to sleep. Eventually, you heard Tommy on his way back. 

After unlocking the shed and ducking inside, he lit a lantern. The warm light flickered on, just bright enough to see dark splatter on his shirt and neck. His hair was matted dark. A thick path of blood oozed down the side of his face. He looked you over and took a seat against the adjacent wall.

For a minute, he simply breathed and watched you. 

You watched him, too. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. The trickle down his face hadn’t stopped. It must have been his own blood. 

“You’re bleeding,” you observed.

You started to move toward him, but he lunged forward before you could get up. Even on his knees, he was a looming presence.

“Can I see?” You asked, and brought a hand out of the blanket, squinting to find the source of the blood. 

Before you could touch him, he scooped you up in his arms for a swift exit, shaking the shed with each step. After ducking through the door, you expected him to put you in the wheelbarrow. Instead, he stood up and adjusted your weight so you were held flush against him, hugging his apron. He made sure you were covered by the blanket. You couldn't wrap your legs around him–he was too big, but you trusted him not to drop you. The soft padding of his torso was warm and comforting as he took long strides toward the house.

Tommy’s footsteps clopped under you in the garage. He slowed down, then stopped in front of a piece of furniture and leaned forward. He took a hand off your back. You tightened your limbs around him as best you could while he pushed some things out of the way, clearing a space for you. Then he sat you down on a smooth wood surface and uncovered your head. He reached up toward the ceiling and pulled a chain. A dim light buzzed on. You were seated on a desk, with all sorts of scraps and junk scattered around. 

Tommy took off his apron and he sat down in a chair, facing you. He reached across the desk and slid a tin box toward himself.  When he opened the tin, it looked like sewing supplies. His fingers were so enormous, you couldn't imagine how he sewed anything, but he handled the box with care and familiarity. 

It was his. This was his place. His craft. 

He turned the tin toward you so you could get what you needed. Meanwhile, he reached for an old glass bottle with an inch of clear liquid in it, and he used every drop to wet a rag. He held the cloth to his head. 

Okay, not his first time. 

You held up a needle. “It’s dirty.”

Tommy shook his head no. Okay, it didn’t look dirty, but it sure wasn’t sterile, and for some reason, you wanted him to be okay. 

“It could get infected.” 

His eyes shifted around in thought, then he looked back to you for the answer. 

“Do you have any matches? Fire?”

He placed his thick, wide hands on your thighs as he stood up. He squeezed them lightly and checked your face for whether you might run. Then he went over to a workbench that was against the wall. 

As he rummaged around, your eyes wandered. The space was cluttered and stuck in another era. There were doll parts strewn around. A softball-sized, hollow head with no hair and  a painted-on face chipping off.  There were tools. So many tools. Cleavers and saws hanging from the ceiling by chains. Too high for anyone but Tommy to reach them. 

He returned with a rusted zippo lighter and flicked it open as he sat down. You held the needle to the flame and he held the lighter steady for you, with the casual intimacy of a stranger lighting your cigarette. In the glow of the flame, he watched your face. 

When the needle was ready, you looked at the thread. You unwound the spool long enough to reach some unexposed thread.

Tommy watched patiently, never making you feel rushed or scrutinized. 

With the needle threaded, you announced, “okay. It’ll hurt, but not too bad.” 

He gave a short nod with a squint that bore the hint of a smile. 

-

"Little closer," you whispered, never speaking at full volume with him. 

He spread your knees, making your heart skip a beat. He settled in between them, leaned forward, and his elbows bracketed your thighs.

His face was close. His eyes were blue with lines of gray darting out from the pupils. His eyelashes were dark and thick.  Your heart skipped a beat as his face moved closer, thinking for a split second that he might kiss you, but he dipped his head to offer you his injury. 

"Good," you encouraged him.   

His sweat wafted into your nostrils, and just as you felt heat rising to your face, his hands curved around your bottom. Arousal buzzed in your gut, so loud you had to pause and compose yourself. “Ready?”

He nodded his head forward. 

You needed to adjust the angle of his head so you could comfortably work on it, and when your fingers grazed the side of his muzzle he flinched. 

Your hand pulled back, but then he held it. As he placed your hand back on his cheek, the sight of his giant paw holding yours made a butterfly float through your chest. 

You wet your lips, then bit your lip and saw him glance toward your mouth.  

Bracing one palm to the side of the wound, you held the skin shut. You rested the needle point against his skin, then pushed and dragged the thread through it. He didn’t react. He watched your face in silence as you patched him up, thread by thread. Not a single puncture made him move his head.

You could feel his appreciation in the way his hands gently cradled you. He looked at you with a soft fascination.

Was this the first time someone helped him like this? It was easy to imagine why, but somewhere in this monster, there was a little boy. Did anyone ever take care of that boy? Tuck him in? Walk him to the bus stop for school? No, surely not. He hadn’t ever said a word to you, but he told you so much. His eyes told you. The way he moved. The way he never spoke, and hung his head as the others barked orders at him.

—

When you were about halfway done stitching him up, he began to sniff the air, and it made you realize how turned on you were. With your legs spread and no panties under the shirt-dress, you had to be leaking onto the desk. 

Tommy sniffed and growled, and maybe his primal sounds shouldn't have hit the way they always did, but your core tingled. You felt exposed with your legs spread around him. He sniffed again, and your face was hot with why. 

–

You tied off the threas and whispered, “Good, Tommy." You blotted the area with the wet rag.

Tommy reached for his face to touch the stitches, and your hand stopped his: “no."

Your hand lingered, with your fingers wrapped around the heel of his palm. You wanted to hug him, have your body against his again, which made your mind jump back to the way he carried you there. In that moment, something clicked, and your throat tightened. No one but him had ever handled you in that particular way—big arms wrapped around you like you were too precious to lose. He did his best to make you comfortable. So what if you were his possession? It felt like you were his world. Maybe no one ever cared as much as Tommy Hewitt cared about keeping you. 

Your vision got cloudy, and Tommy’s eyes narrowed. Once you blinked, a fat tear pushed through your lashes. Before it could run down your cheek, his thumb was there to collect it. Then he put your tear just below his eye. It slid down to his muzzle in a tiny trickle that left a clean path through the grime. 

You smiled and whispered, “It’s okay.” 

His gaze fell down your body, and his eyes darkened. The corners of his mouth glistened in the shadow of his muzzle. He took your chin in his hand and took a deep breath. 

-

Tommy reached behind you and urgently cleared the whole desk. Then he put his hand on your chest and pushed you down flat on your back.  Your feet dangled off the edge, but not for long. He bent forward, lifted your knees, and soon had your legs over his shoulders with your ass in the air, held up by his massive hands. With your sex exposed so close to his face, Tommy growled. Your upper back remained flat on the surface. 

With his elbows braced on the desk, he held you with your cunt at his mouth. His breath was warm. With his mouth ever closer, he began to drool. His breath was heavy and full of desire.  

You let out a little moan, and with that, he attacked you like his first meal in ages. Holding you like a juicy burger, he fed himself your cunt. There was no ceremony in the first touch, he simply dug in, licking right up the center, then sucking at the apex. He ate you with a hunger that was felt in every push of his lips and heard in every breath through his nose. He used his face to spread your lower lips apart, wedging his mouth into your heat like it belonged there. 

He ate with abandon, licking and planting his lips and sucking. Collecting every drop he could from each secret little ruffle of your body, scavenging each surface for more to consume. The firmness of his lips, the rhythmic suction, and the strong lap of his tongue had pleasure building in your gut.  His hands continued to hold up your hips, thumbs digging into your asscheeks. His grip kept you firmly at his mouth with your thighs hugging his cheeks. With his mouth latched fully onto you, it was a vision you could never forget. God, it felt good. 

He couldn’t have known it, but he’d found the perfect angle, bridging your hips for you, with his elbows planted on the desk. He feasted selfishly, and his ravenous work had your body churning out more and more arousal for him to slurp up. 

He refused to come up for air, his nose instead taking ragged breaths. He paused only to adjust the muzzle, nudging it against you thigh. Then, the smooth leather nudged your slick clit as his tongue plunged into you. His eyes closed as he licked upward, massaging your front wall with his hunger. Your eyes fluttered closed. His tongue was so strong and thick, he really fucked you with it, filled your wet little hole with it.

Each slide of his tongue against your spongy spot made you lose a little more control. Soon, it felt like you were going to pee. 

“Tommy,” you warned him. 

He only fucked you harder with his tongue. 

“Tommy,” you whined, “I’m gonna—please—I—Ohhh” 

Tommy’s response was to growl and pull you closer, harder against his mouth.

At least there were no bedsheets, no decorum, and no expectations from him. He nudged that spot again, you let go. Your release began, pulsing through you, and he moaned as it filled his mouth. His mouth was so large, and he was so thirsty, there was barely any overflow. You rode that high and he drank every drop. You sighed when you were finished. His pace slowed, and his eyelids drooped. 

-

Satisfied with his meal, he let your ass back down on the table and ducked out from under your legs. He turned his head to fix his muzzle in case his feeding frenzy had exposed the center of his face. When he turned toward you again, you sat up on your elbows. 

Tommy's eyes panned over you as he palmed himself under the desk. His muzzle was shiny with you, and so were his lips. His pupils were dilated. He caught you watching the motion of his arm, and his face blotched pinker.

"It's normal," you reassured him. "It's normal to get hard from doing that." 

What were you saying?

What were you asking for?

A swell of shame washed through your chest, but it didn’t change what you wanted. 

Tommy looked at you, unsure. 

You nodded. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

–

He grabbed you by your (his) shirt and pulled you upright. Then he ripped the shirt open, sending two buttons flying. 

When you looked down, your chest expanded with desire at the sight of the massive log straining his pants. He squeezed the outline and you nodded reassuringly. A wet spot was growing.

Your mouth hung slightly open as you looked at the gift in his pants. Your thighs were still spread wide. Tommy looked between your legs, then down at himself. Then in a flurry he unbuttoned and shoved his pants down, reaching into his underwear at the same time to help free his massive cock. Your knees twitched with the urge to sit on it. 

And sure enough, he grabbed your ass, pulling you off the edge of the desk and into his lap in one swift motion, which made his stiff cock slap heavily against your pussy. He quickly jostled it into place at your entrance and moaned when your wet heat covered the tip of his cock. Between his precum, your slick, and his slobber all over your cunt, the stiff log prodding at your hole was well-lubed. 

Tommy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down, making his girth divide your soft, warm walls. His cock claimed every inch of your cunt and then more, as your body relaxed and opened with arousal. He was impossibly stiff. It must have been painfully hard in his pants. Slowed by his girth and stopped by his length, you came to a rest as far down his shaft as you could, far enough to meet the cushion of his bush.  His swollen shaft throbbed, and he let out a contented sigh.

He held your waist, and you were prepared to be used as a fucksleeve, but he hesitated. Instead of jerking himself off with you, his hands loosened and slid under your open dress shirt. His two palms rested warmly on your back, together covering a significant portion of your skin. You closed your eyes and bent forward, curving your torso snugly against the swell of his midsection. As you laid your head on his chest, your hips shifted and his throat rumbled with a twitch of his dick.  His heart thumped against your cheek. 

You moved your hips again, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. Another twitch of his cock made your walls spasm, and you let out a little moan. He pulled you closer and inhaled the scent of your hair, then lifted you ever so slightly against him before  sinking fully into your tight, wet cunt again. 

He shifted you in small motions, letting out lazy grunts and shuddering when you squeezed him in just the right way. This was perfect for how tired he was. 

You rolled your hips cautiously, curious how long he could wait before ravishing you.  He seemed to enjoy this new way of experiencing you. And God did you love it, too — stuffed full of his cock, with your tits and tummy pressed against him. 

“This is nice,” you whispered.

His lap lifted, and you sighed, “God, Tommy.” 

His breathing stuttered. His fingers twitched, pressing against your back. His dick throbbed and seemed to occupy even more of you.

His breathing sped up. You just barely rocked yourself, and observed his quiet loss of control until he groaned and throbbed so powerfully it made your whole body tighten. He held his breath as his balls spasmed, then he sighed with his hot load throbbing into you. With his seed pumping into you, he used a hand on your ass to pull you even tighter against him.

The pressure of his heft against your front sent you to the stars. You turned your head with your mouth against his chest and whined into his shirt as you came on his cock, making him shudder. While you came, he held your head to his chest. His stomach heaved under you, as you both finished your release.  

–-

You stayed impaled on him, and after a minute, you felt him tense. You lifted your head to look at him, and could see he was self-conscious. 

With his hands on your waist, he lifted you off his dick. Your pussy tried to hang on, but the last of his dick slid out, leaving you empty as he put you down on the desk, leaking his cum onto the wood. 

He stood up and turned away for a moment to put his dick back in his pants. 

He looked you over, and held both sides of your unbuttoned shirt-dress. He ran a thumb over the threads where he had ripped the buttons, and he grumbled quietly in dissatisfaction. He retrieved the sewing tin, scooting it closer again, then he pushed the shirt off your shoulders. He wrapped you in the blanket, then sat back down. 

He pulled you into his lap, having you sit on his thigh to make space on the desk. You sat in his lap while he went to work. He got out a needle and thread, and began to select a button, then paused. He looked at you, then back at the buttons, and slid the tin toward you with a nod. You picked out two different shades of blue. 

He reached his arms around you to work on the shirt, and you watched his hands as he sewed them on. It was amazing to see how nimble his fat fingers could be. How studious he was with his work, and how well he sewed them on. 

When he was finished, he scooted the chair back and you stood up off his lap. He gently took the blanket off you and dressed you in the shirt again. He admired the way you looked in his shirt, then picked you up to carry you back to the shed. Before he covered you with the blanket, you looked at his wound. 

“You have to keep that clean, okay?” 

He nodded once. 

“Do you have a shower? Bath?” you asked.

He grunted with a nod. You thought you’d smelled soap on him before and wondered what he'd look like fresh and clean.

-

Back in the shed, he tucked you in and sat next to you as you grew sleepier. It was easier to fall asleep with him by your side. 

-

-

-

-----------------------

Thank you for reading, and I really appreciate all your comments and reblogs on the first two. 🖤 Your enthusiasm goes a long way.

You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications to see when I've posted new fics.

[versadies]

MY LOVE, MINE, ALL MINE (various x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. my love, mine, all mine

ADDRESSED. neuvillette, alhaitham, capitano, diluc, itto, tartaglia, kaveh, kaeya (x gn!reader)

STAMPS. what body part they kiss the most (sfw)

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (not sorry), possible grammar errors, mentions of battle, mentions of blood (capitano, childe)

POST-SCRIPT. all these characters are nothing but pokemons to me, i see one, i'll collect one in game. part two will come soon (with zhongli, wriothesley, ayato, thoma, pierro, and pantalone!)

LINKS. masterlist / taglist / part two

HANDS – Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Capitano, Diluc

NEUVILLETTE kisses your knuckles the most. To him, he believes that kissing you on the lips is far too intimate to be seen in public, preferring to do it in closed doors where it’s just the two of you alone, and so he often kisses your knuckles whenever he can. 

Whenever he does, one of his glove-covered hands would reach towards yours before lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle with care as though your hand is a delicate treasure, as if every kiss is a promise that he’ll hold your heart with care and unwavering devotion. 

It doesn’t help that you often find your cheeks warming up when his intense violet-shaded eyes look at yours, and no words were enough for you to explain the connection that you both have from just a simple stare. 

By the time he pulls away from your hand, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Oh, do you have a fever, my dear?” He asks worriedly, removing one of his gloves to check on the temperature of your forehead after kissing your knuckles out of nowhere while the two of you were lounging on the couch in his office. “Fret not, I can make something that can ease your fever away.” He adds, before standing up and rushes away to make a drink that will help you ease yourself, unaware that he’s the reason for your flustered state.

Ah, the things you’d do for this sweet man of yours. 

The same goes for ALHAITHAM when it comes to kissing you in public. He believes that the two of you kissing on each other’s lips should be private with no one to ruin it or spoil the intimacy, and so you often find him kissing you in other parts instead – specifically, your hands or cheeks. 

It’s rare for him to kiss you in public since he’s not much of a PDA man, but when he does, it happens at a quiet or secluded moment when the world seems to be muted around you two. When Alhaitham finds himself staring at you for too long, he couldn’t help but smoothly put his hand on top of yours, and raises your hand towards his lips to kiss it. 

His turquoise-shaded eyes stay on yours when you look at him, never looking away as you feel his lips on your skin, bringing chills to your spine from the feeling. The way he stares at you is as if he knows your deepest secrets and desires, and knows what sets you off to make your knees become jelly-like.  

It doesn’t help that he’d casually act as if nothing happened after, as if it’s just a casual thing to do (it is, to him), leaving you staring at him with your mouth agape. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks, hiding a small smirk as he glances at you. 

He definitely knows what he’s doing. 

CAPITANO is a strong man with a physique that could make anyone intimidated – both vision-holders and non-vision holders alike. It’s no doubt that such a powerful man like him would most likely be found in numerous battlefields, bringing the Tsaritsa many victories that she deserves. 

So it’s a strange sight to see said strong man on one knee, holding your hand as he gives it an affectionate kiss. He does it in a way that’s as though you’re a deity worth worshiping. He’s a captain by others, but to you, he’s your knight in shining armor (that’s corrupted by bloodshed and death, but we don’t talk about that here). 

You cannot see the expression he makes, but the way he kisses your hand is enough for you to know how much this man, who had killed so many and left no mercy to his opponents, is soft and caring for you. He kisses with care, as if afraid that you’ll shatter if he doesn’t control his strength. 

It became a custom for him to be on one knee and kiss your hand whenever he comes home to you from another mission – which is perhaps more often than you both like to admit. Despite your insistence that he doesn’t have to do such things, he does it anyway. In a way, it’s his way of apologizing to you for the lost time, and will do anything to make it up to you.

And he always did, with gifts, comfort, and of course, love. 

“I’m home, my love.” He spoke, with a hint of affection in his gruff voice that usually holds so much authority, kissing your hand tenderly.

DILUC is a gentleman by heart, and although he’s seen as the epitome of perfection around Mondstadt, he is seen indoors as a vulnerable man who you dearly care for. For so long, the two of you have found comfort and love within one another in the dimly lit room that you both share in the manor. He’s your warmth, and you’re his pillar. 

In private, where no one could see underneath the aloof and courteous man but you, he’d tiredly wrap his arms around you as he sighed in contentment. It’s normal for a man such as him to be so tired from work, so tired from his duties, and so tired from everything outside of his manor, but he is never tired of you, his beloved spouse who he treasures. He’s a zealous soul who cares not for wealth and materialism, but for the people of Mondstadt and the ones he loves.  

Your hand is often intertwined with his, and he’d bring up your hand up to his lips in the quiet moments of your shared intimacy. To him, your hand is a canvas that he paints with his deep affection and adoration. 

You couldn’t help but soften up as a result, feeling cherished and loved by your beloved man who never fails to make you swoon. 

For Diluc, kissing your hand is more than some simple intimate gesture, but rather a way to honor your pure essence – to show you how grateful he is to have you who has captured his soul in a tight grip that he never wants to leave from. And so, he continues to kiss your hand more, each a testament with a silent vow to love you throughout your lives together. 

“A-Ah.. My bad,” He clears his throat, his ears turning almost as red as his hair, “It seems I almost got carried away.” 

LIPS – Itto, Tartaglia, Kaveh, Kaeya

ITTO is a kind soul at heart, with a fiery passion when it comes to his loved ones – specifically, and with no certain favoritism, you. The oni is not one to shy away from showing you how much he loves you with all of his huge heart, so expect lots of kisses from him! 

The most prominent part that he kisses is of course, your lips. 

For Itto, there is no greater joy than the taste of your lips, each kiss contains joy and love on his end. With his endless energy and passionate spirit, he approached each kiss and affection  with an infectious enthusiasm, eager to lose himself in the overwhelming warmth of your presence and affection. 

In the sweetness of your kiss, he finds it much better than the feeling of sweet victory from a beetle battle, and he couldn’t find himself to remove the pleased grin on his face whenever he gets a kiss from you. 

It’s as if your lips is a magnetic force to his, as he never hesitates to kiss you whenever he could – be it whenever he greets you, whenever he wins a battle, basically every moment with him (a bit of an exaggeration really, but you get what I mean!). 

“My boo boo bear!” He cheers when he sees you in his vision, running up towards you as he instantly gives you a bone-crushing hug, lifting you up with his immense strength regardless of your weight. “I missed you! How was your day?” He asks excitedly, giving you a big smooch! on your lips.

CHILDE is just as fun as Itto – if you excuse his battlelust, of course. Besides his need for an activity or someone to fight with, the prowess fighter is not shy when it comes to giving you what he believes you deserve, which is giving you his undying affection.

He’s an infectious man, who leeches off to your kisses and hugs. He’s a fighter by spirit, but a lover by heart. He’s attentive to your needs, very willing to give you tons of kisses if you ask for it. Of course, even if you didn’t, he’d snatch a kiss or two from you without you expecting it. 

His love is like an unforgiving ocean, often wild and untamed, yet it comes with a fierce and unrelenting passion. In moments between the two of you, he seeks to plant his lips on yours, as though your kiss is a battlefield conquered by him, a well-done victory even. 

With each kiss on your lips is a vow, a vow that he’ll see to it that he gets to see the light of day after every battle, to see you by the end of the tunnel and show you that you won’t lose him that easily. For in your presence, he found his salvation, the arm that reaches out to him to pull him out of the abyss he’s in, guiding him out of the unforgiving ocean that seems to drown him whole. 

And so, he’ll never stop kissing you, regardless of where you are and the circumstances. 

“Were you watching me?” He asks eagerly, running up to you before planting a kiss on your lips, his hands that are scarred from the numerous weapons he held and the battles he fought in find themselves cupping your cheeks. 

When he pulls away, he looks at your eyes with a cheeky grin. “I did great, didn’t I?”

Known for his works and talent, KAVEH is no doubt a respectable man around the land of wisdom and scholars. Many would sing praises to his masterpieces and his original ideas that bring potential to Sumeru. As what a certain scribe would describe him, he is the light of Kshahrewar and a master builder and craftsman. 

However, such a bright reputation hides a man whose heart is tender and emotionally fragile, with too much on his plate. Which is why he is ever so grateful to have you by his side through it all.

For every affection the two of you share, Kaveh feels like the luckiest man in all of Sumeru – no, in Teyvat even. He doesn’t feel like he deserves you, a person who loves him for all that he is. With you, he feels cherished and appreciated even, and you balance his emotional fragility with your presence that seems so encouraging and comforting.

He seeks refuge in your affection, often cupping your cheeks and giving you a kiss. His kisses are frequent, and his lips often find themselves on yours. Each of his kiss is full of love, and there’s no doubt that there seems a desperation laced in it, as if he’s scared that this kiss is his last, and you might be gone before he knew it – just like his loved ones. 

Yet, in the softness of your lips, he found reassurance. He’s reminded that amidst the struggles of his life, your relationship remains timeless and true. Just like how he does with his work, he pours his heart and soul into your relationship together, cherishing the bond that you both have towards one another with  tenderness.

“Thank you.” He said, kissing you on your lips with a look that threatens to crumble. “I know I’ve said it too many times, but I can’t help myself. I really am grateful.” 

When you ask for what he’s thanking you for, he could only give you a smile, a sight that shines far brighter than the sun itself.

“Thank you for staying.”

You’d be lying if you said you’ve always thought you’d end up dating the notorious Cavalry Captain, who is more than often a flirtatious man whenever you’re around. KAEYA is not one who shies away from something, and if it means reminding you every now and then that he’s into you, then so be it!

Every waking moment with Kaeya is a thrilling challenge, and you two often find yourselves in a dance of wits and flirts, with a few glasses of wine and other drinks that the tavern sells. The two of you know how to push the other’s buttons, often playing banters and all. Even when you two are now dating, things are still the same – besides the fact that the two of you are free to kiss one another and often crash at each other’s places. 

Yet underneath such playful flirting and bantering, there’s a deep and abiding connection between the two of you that remains unspoken but welcomed.

Unsurprisingly, Kaeya finds home in your lips. To him, it just felt right. Sure, he likes to kiss your hands and cheeks, but it’s a different story when it comes to your lips. For him, stealing a kiss on your lips is not just an ordinary gesture of affection, but rather a declaration of his unwavering love for you. 

And so, more often than not, he prefers kissing you more on your lips.

With a teasing look and smirk on his face, he’d pull you close towards him without warning, his lips finding yours with an urgency that left you both breathless. There’s often laughter and desire lingering around the privacy of your bedroom, and it was a safe sanctuary that Kaeya finds comfort in. 

His laughter would fade into a whisper of “I love you”’s as he traces his cold fingertips on your face that he loves to see at every waking moment. He cherished these kinds of moments, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t spend each one as if it’s his last. And so, he continues to give you more kisses to drown your sweet laughter, for in your warmth and embrace, he could only find his great happiness and peace. 

“Come on, give me another one.” He chuckles, urging you to let him give you one more kiss before the two of you can sleep in each other’s arms. “Just one more kiss, I promise.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

[mx-pastelwriting]

hi how are you hope you are well

I wondered how the slashers would react if you hugged them from behind (^-^)/

Oooooo I like this one its so cute to imagine!

I would definitely want to make a full post later down the line with this prompt! As I'm not taking request for full posts at the moment. But heres a bit of what I think!

Slashers x GN! Reader

Summary: Prompt up top^ Small Headcanon!

I'm not open for requests, but little asks on thoughts on something is okay~

Thomas Hewitt: If it were the first time, he would jump a bit, but when realizing it was you, he would melt in your arms. He is such a gentle giant when it comes to love. Learning from it, he would do the same when he caught you with a turned-back.

Michael Myers (78 Michael): Would not understand what you were doing or trying to do. When asking what he was doing by the tone of your voice, he would understand it was another show of affection. Still working on getting used to the feeling of love and how it works, he slowly looks forward to you coming up behind to hug his waist. Little by little, considering trying it himself.

Jason Voorhees: Ticklish, for sure. Hearing him laugh a little as he squirms at your arms wrapped around his waist. Leaving you to tease him a little about it. When doing it again, you learn to do it quickly, making it less ticklish. Jason would only attempt it when having come home and cleaned up, not wanting to get mug and sweat onto you.

Brahms Heelshire: Would love it. Really love it if you get what I'm saying. Putting aside his touch-starved state, he would beg for you to do it again after that. Rarely does it to you, wanting to be the one receiving the hug. Tall man is needy.

Bo Sinclair: Spooked by it. Makes him blush hard, worse when you kiss his neck or back, making his face burn a hot red. Though rarely lets you see him in that state, Bo loves it from the first time you do it. Does it to you as well, attacking your neck and shoulder while chuckling.

Vincent Sinclair: If it wasn't for Lester's romance movies or Bo's special movies, he would have no idea what you were doing. Understanding mostly from Lester's movies to be a loving act, he smiles under his mask, though continues to do what he working on. Moving less to not spook you into letting go.

Lester Sinclair: Getting all blushy and mushy about it. Stopping what he was doing just to melt in your arms. Asking if you could just stay like that for a little longer. It would become a daily thing for the both of you taking any chance to embrace each other.

Hannibal Lector: Wouldn't physically react, greeting you as it happens and smiling, loving every one of your affectionate acts. Continuing to work on whatever he was doing, allowing you to hang onto him, whether in silence or talking about each other's day.

Will Graham: Would chuckle at you hugging him from behind, feeling as his muscles relaxed against your touch. Preferred to let the air stay quiet, with your arms warped around his waist, feeling the fabric of his flannel shirt smelling of aftershave and dog.

I didn't proofread this one too much, but I did put it through a grammar checker, so if there are any mistakes, blame Grammarly.

Hope you liked this little headcanon!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

[amomentsescape]

Slashers x secret admirer!reader.

How would they react to all the small gifts left for them? Would they track the person down? Would they confront them? Would they stalk them? How would the slashers react if the gifts stopped for a period of time?

Slashers with a Secret Admirer

Slashers x Secret Admirer! Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

Freddy Krueger

Oh, he knows

There isn't a way for you to be discreet when he can literally enter your mind every night

That's how the admiration started for you in the first place

Seeing him there, taunting you in such a creepy and yet powerful way

Something drew you in

And the feeling is mutual

I mean, why else hadn't he killed you yet?

He keeps his eye on you whenever he can, sometimes ensuring your dreams are happy and not all nightmares

Some are still terrifying though

He knows you like the thrill

You've tried to surprise him with gifts and letters a couple times, but he knows about them before he even receives them

You really can't keep anything from this guy

And don't even think about taking anything back

You started this whole "game" between you two

There's no way out now

Michael Myers

He immediately assumes the worst

The moment he sees the gifts and letters left for him, he quickly believes that someone is out to get him

You're trying to play mind games with him, but it won't work

Nobody will ever best Michael

He watches you for a while, plotting his moves carefully and thinking of the best way to get back at you for your taunting

There really wasn't anything about your gifts that seemed threatening to him

In fact, he quite liked a couple of the things you gifted him

Well, as much as Michael could like something other than killing

And this is partly what angered him so much

How on earth could you know him well enough to gift him such items?

He was going to get answers one way or another

And it was going to be soon

Jason Voorhees

He's honestly just baffled

How did you even find him in the middle of nowhere?

And even worse: what were you plotting?

No one has ever shown him kindness before besides his mother

This type of attention is so foreign to him that he just assumes you have the wrong person

This was all just some weird accident

But he's happy to play pretend for a while

And if the gifts suddenly stop, he can't help but feel disappointed

You must have finally figured out that he wasn't the one you were trying to impress

He won't be the type to try and figure out who you were

It all just seemed too sweet to be real, and he just wanted to play into the fantasy for a while

It was nice while it lasted

Thomas Hewitt

He quickly guesses that this is just some poor joke being played by someone in the family

No one comes out here

If they do, they're dead

And if a person was really wanting to surprise someone, there was no way he would be that someone

But after days of keeping his eye out, none of his family seemed to be acting suspicious

So this is just odd

He goes on and lets the gifts keep coming

It honestly gives him something to look forward to each week

But after a while, he becomes too curious on who you are

So he does what he does best: he sets a trap

Nothing to hurt you, but he just has to know who this secret admirer is

He doesn't want to go another day without feeling this level of kindness ever again

Bubba Sawyer

A gift? For him?

This has to be Christmas, right?

He prances around the house every single time, flaunting whatever new item you sent his way

He truly believes that you must be his guardian angel looking out for him

That's the only explanation

But as many know, Bubba isn't very patient

If he's craving something sweet, he immediately takes the candy, no questions asked

So don't expect to be a secret for very long

He's going to do whatever it takes to "catch" you

That way, the gifts and fun will never end!

You sort of dug yourself into a whole with this

But don't worry

He'll treat you just as sweetly

Brahms Heelshire

He doesn't react as badly as one might think right away

He just assumes the gifts are from his parents

But after receiving his first letter, he realizes this is more romantic in nature

And this is quite a dangerous game you're playing

Since he immediately becomes obsessed

He'll kindly play this game with you

He'll leave the doll near the main window, coaxing you to come take a deeper look

He'll start to leave the door unlocked or a window cracked open in hopes you'll be tempted to take a trip inside

But unfortunately, Brahms is as shallow as he is dangerous

If you are a beauty, he will gladly whisk you away into his home

But if you aren't what he pictured you to be, he will dispose of you

You've created this idealistic image in his mind, and he needs it to be perfect

Norman Bates

He probably reacts the most "normal" out of anyone else

He's surprised of course, but he happily takes the gifts and finds a little drawer at home to keep them

He likes to pull them out whenever he is feeling down

With how shy he is, he won't be the one to step up and try to confront you or figure out who you are

He kind of likes the mystery

Although, he does hope one of these times you will finally reveal who you are to him

If the gifts suddenly stop, Norman will become a lot more upset than he could have predicted

It can be so lonely where he is, and he finally thought maybe he was making an actual connection with someone

He may make a trip to the nearest town in order to people-watch for a while

He secretly hopes there will be some sign that will make you known to him, but that's clearly wishful thinking

Billy Loomis

He's flattered, don't get him wrong, but you are certainly not the first nor the last to admire him from afar

He's gotten several secret admirers in his day

I mean, look at him

He'll gladly take your gifts or letters with pride, but they'll likely get thrown in with all the other trinkets he's gathered over the years

If the gifts suddenly stop however, he'll act like it doesn't phase him at all

But he becomes curious on why you stopped

And this curiosity soon becomes obsession

Every killing he goes on, he'll raid the house, trying to find any sign on who his secret admirer is

Why would you stop? What's wrong with him?

The questions are enough to drive him insane

Stu Macher

Almost anyone can tell something has changed with Stu

He holds his head a little higher, smiles a little wider, and talks a little louder

He walks around school with his eyes peered, hoping that eye contact will be enough to figure out who his secret admirer is

But when he's not at school, he's making a list on any person he thinks it could be

He makes sure to convince Billy to hit those people's houses first during their "nights out"

He may even go as far as interrogating all of his victims, eventually killing them when he realizes they know nothing about his secret admirer

But he shakes this off quickly

He has full faith that he'll learn who you are

There's only so many houses in Woodsboro after all

Vincent Sinclair

He's honestly completely in awe at this situation

It had always been Bo who had the secret admirers

People have been fawning over his brother since they were younger, but now he's the one being sought after?

This can't be real

He does his best to keep all of this from his brothers

He's worried that them finding out will ruin the whole thing somehow

And he truly loves how it feels to be wanted

If the gifts stop at any point, he'll be devastated

He won't go as far as to seek you out

But he will certainly mourn you and your attention

He knew it was too good to be true

Bo Sinclair

Similar to Billy, this isn't his first rodeo

But unlike him, he's not as kind about the situation

Your gifts are disposed of as quickly as they are received

It's not that he isn't appreciative, it's just that he seeks confidence and hates games

If you're interested in him, then why not just step up and make a move in person?

If you're not willing to do that, then it's mostly a waste of his time

If the gifts keep coming, he'll eventually hit a point where he becomes annoyed

He'll break the gifts and trash them right outside the door, leaving them there in hopes you'll take the hint

And if you do, then he's satisfied

He doesn't need the attention because he knows he can get whoever he wishes

He doesn't have time for silly teenage games

[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕

Pairing: LADS Men (Main 4) x Fem!Reader Prompt: When the boys are feeling needy 😏 Words: ~1.7k || 400-500 per LI Genre: Suggestive (Explicit), Established relationship Notice: Mentions of sexual acts A/N: The boys' version of Parched since it's Kinktober.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST] || Parched (When you're feeling needy)

⊱ 𝕏𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

The adrenaline from the mission still thrummed through Xavier’s veins as he unlocked the front door. He couldn’t wait to cuddle with you, you always had that strong effect on calming him down.

But the sight of you sleeping soundly, one leg bent, with the oversized shirt riding up just enough to reveal that you weren’t wearing any panties, zapped all his blood straight to the south of his body.

Inviting. Begging. To be touched.

“𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒, 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦?”

You stirred slightly but did not wake, a soft sigh escaped your lips as if you were aware of his presence even in slumber.

No time was wasted as he quickly took a shower, not bothering to put anything on before slipping into bed and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“𝛸𝑎𝜐…?” you stirred, blinking sleepily when you felt his fingers brushing the bottom curve of your ass.

Your body instinctively pressed closer to his wandering hand as it moved up and down the bend of your spine. It then slid to the back of your thigh, lifting your leg up to drape over his.

“𝘚𝘰𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝐼 𝑤𝘰𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑢𝑝,” he whispered, though there wasn’t much regret in his tone.

Xavier knew he should have let you drift back to sleep, but you were too soft, too responsive to the slightest touch.

Soon, the soft gasps and sighs you emitted only fueled him to delve into your silken folds with an increasing urgency.

“𝛭-𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑒,” you plead.

God, you’re too much.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if you were afraid he might pull away. Instead, Xavier leaned in, his teeth nipping at your neck, whispering words that made your core throb with excitement.

“𝑊𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 ℎ𝘰𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼’𝑑 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢?” He kneaded the soft flesh of your rear. “𝐿𝑒𝑎𝜈𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝘰𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵.”

Eyes half-lidded, pretty lips slightly parted, you nodded at him. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵,” you breathed.

To emphasise your point, you arched your back, hips canting up toward him, your body a clear invitation for him to indulge in.

“𝛮𝑒𝑥𝘵 𝘵𝑖𝑚𝑒,” he grunted softly, “𝐼’𝑚 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢.”

But for now, he wanted to feel you writhe beneath him. For now, he wanted nothing more than to hear the sweet melody of your cries as he lost himself in your heat.

⊱ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕝

Ever since you walked into the hall escorted by Thomas, you never left Rafayel’s peripheral vision even once. The person talking to him droned on, rambling on about upcoming projects, but the words were a blur.

The dress he bought clung to all the right curves, silky fabric embracing your form with a sensual ease, cascading down your body like a gentle ripple of a stream.

When he saw you slipped to the balcony, he cut in with a curt, “𝛦𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒,” before making a beeline across the room to follow you.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝘵𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝘰𝑢𝘵 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?”

Your chuckle at his antics quickly transformed into a gasp as he crowded you, pinning you against the railing. He moulded himself further into you, leaving no space, and you could feel his hardness pressing insistently on your backside.

“𝘚𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑠𝑒𝑒.” You lightly slapped at his hand that had slipped around your waist, fingers splayed across your stomach, holding you in place.

The shadows were obscuring both of you just enough. To any wandering eyes you’d appear as nothing more than a couple sharing a quiet moment away from the buzz of the party.

“𝛢𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑑𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠”—his breath hot as it caressed your ear, sending shivers down your spine—“𝐼’𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑖𝘵 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑟𝘰𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑠𝘵 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑓𝑢—”

“𝑅𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑙, 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒!” you whispered sharply, though it wavered, the reprimand weak in your voice.

He chuckled, hips rolling against yours in a slow, deliberate grind that had your legs turning into jelly.

“𝛭𝑒𝑒𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝘰𝑎𝑘𝑟𝘰𝘰𝑚, 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝘵𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙.” He placed an innocent kiss on your cheek, a jarring contrast to his proposal. “𝐹𝑖𝜈𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑢𝘵𝑒𝑠.”

Before you could argue, Rafayel quickly slipped off to disappear into the crowd.

It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar rhythm of knocks on the wooden door—a secret code the two of you had devised for moments just like this.

He opened the door just enough to pull you inside, making a quick work of locking it before his lips were on yours in an instant—hungry and demanding, tasting of impatience and greed.

“𝘚ℎℎ,” Rafayel murmured when an unbridled moan escaped as his nimble fingers pushed aside the slit of your evening gown, squeezing the fat of your inner thigh. “𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑐𝑎𝘵𝑐ℎ 𝑢𝑠 𝑛𝘰𝑤, 𝑑𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑐𝑢𝘵𝑖𝑒?”

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as your slickness coated his fingers, smearing your wetness around. The metallic clink of his belt buckle sounded so loud inside the small space.

“𝛣𝑒 𝑎 𝑔𝘰𝘰𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝘵 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑚𝑒, 𝑦𝑒𝑎ℎ?”

⊱ ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖

He should have felt ashamed when he felt the intense stirring in his nether region, staring at you like a man starved.

It was already semi-hard when his eyes popped open earlier, catching the lingering scent of your shampoo still clinging to the pillowcase.

But damn, you were just too alluring right now.

Zayne’s eyes were glued to the sight of you, on your tiptoes, reaching for his mug on the upper shelf.

Your shorts had ridden up, revealing the creamy expanse of your thighs, and the hem of your pyjama shirt lifted just enough to expose the curve of your hips—hips that he held when he pounded into you last night, with your moans echoing in his ears.

“𝛢𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑠𝘵𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝘰𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑎𝑐𝘵𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑚𝑒?”

You didn’t even bother turning around to look at him. You knew exactly what he was doing.

He pulled you flushed against his chest, one hand toying with the hem of your pyjama, while the other swept your hair aside and left a lingering, open-mouth kiss to the column of your neck.

He still hadn’t reach out to assist you.

You huffed and turned slightly to face him, eyes narrowing. “𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑝𝑢𝘵𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑠𝘰 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏?”

Busted.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “𝐼𝘵 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝘵 𝜈𝑖𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

You rolled your eyes at him, though he noticed a smile creeping on your face when you saw his infrequent playful demeanour coming out.

Turning around in his embrace, your fingertips traced the lines of his chest through his shirt, teasing, pushing his restraint.

“𝘚𝘰…” you drew out the word, “𝑑𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝘵𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝘰𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑒?”

Zayne brought your hand to his mouth, nipping at your fingertips. “𝐼’𝑚 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑—”

He felt a thrill when you started to squirm, no doubt feeling his rigid arousal sandwiched between you both.

“—𝑏𝑢𝘵 𝑛𝘰𝘵 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑐𝘰𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑒.”

A wanton gasp ripped out from your lips, feeling his large hand sneaking underneath your pyjama, palming your mound, teasing your nipple until it stiffened into a pebble.

“𝘚𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵, 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑎𝜈𝘰𝑢𝑟.”

With a low growl, he lifted your chin and crashed his lips against yours. Tongue prodding, demanding entrance, until you welcomed him in for a dance with yours.

“𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒,” you breathed, half a plea, half a demand.

Dropping to his knees before you, his hands tugged down at your shorts with an urgency. “𝛨𝘰𝑙𝑑 𝘰𝑛 𝘵𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟,” he warned, before diving in, mouth lapping on your most sensitive spot without hesitation.

He knew he’d put the mug back on the higher shelf tomorrow, just to have you like this—arching, mewling, and completely his.

⊱ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤

Pushing his chair away from the desk, Sylus nearly choked when you sank gracefully to your knees beside him, your movements slow and deliberate.

Without a word, you gathered your hair into a ponytail, drawing his gaze to the elegant curve of your neck that he liked to mark.

“𝘚𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝘵, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔?” His voice was rough when you bent down, peering under his desk, your skirt riding up just enough to leave his mind reeling.

Your voice, frustrated, came muffled from underneath the desk. “𝛭𝑒𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑠𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝑘 𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝘰𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑖𝘵 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!”

Sylus swallowed hard, trying to focus on your words, but the second your knees hit the hardwood floor, his length had sprung to attention. It was now straining uncomfortably against the confines of his trousers.

“𝐼𝑠 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝘰𝑟𝘵 𝘰𝑓 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒?”

Who could resist when temptation was laid before them on a silver platter? His hot palm smoothed over the back of your thighs before smacking it, caressing the skin to soothe the sting.

He heard your stifled yelp before you promptly moved back, glancing up at him with wide, innocent eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you were having.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝜊𝑢 𝑑𝘰—𝒐𝒉.”

A pretty red blush bloomed on your cheeks as your eyes dropped down to the unmistakable, rock-hard outline of his erection.

“𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝒐𝒉,” Sylus drawled, amused by your sudden fluster.

Sometimes you were just too naive, too pure, that it awakened an irresistible urge within him to taint you.

Effortlessly, he pulled you into his lap. One hand splayed across your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest, as he rolled his hips to chase the delicious friction that had both of you teetering on the edge.

With a tilt of your head, you met his gaze, your lips hovering dangerously close to his.

There was no mistaking the dampness beginning to soak through your underwear, dampening the fabric of his pants. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one excited.

“𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵, ℎ𝘰𝑛𝑒𝑦,” he rasped, black pupils almost entirely consuming the red in his eyes as his thumb pushed past your lips, and you wrapped your mouth around it, sucking. “𝐼’𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝘰𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝘵.”

A good girl ready to please, you nodded vigorously, and lowered yourself off his lap, sliding down between his knees.

Sylus’s fingers tangled in your hair, and you could hear the low growl of approval rumble from deep within his chest when you looked up at him, tongue out, his length heavy and throbbing in your hand.

“𝛣𝑒𝑠𝘵 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝜈𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑓𝘵𝑒𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝘵.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST || Parched (When you're feeling needy)

[snowballseal]

Insecurities - Rafayel

Summary: Here is the portion of Rafayel reacting to your insecurities. And you best know this man goes big to prove a point. Much fluff.

Here is the original with the other LADS boys

Word Count: 1831

Notes: Reader has insecurities about they way they look, so just keep in mind. It ends fluffy and happy though.

---

“Rafayel, do I look okay?”

The artist immediately drops whatever he was doing, twisting around to peer over the back of the couch as you step into the studio.

His iridescent eyes scan over your figure, his voice lilting with teasing affection, “I’m not sure I even want to go if this is what you’re wearing. I think everyone would think you’re the art and ignore my hard work.”

You wrinkle your nose. Partially because he’s being ridiculous. Partially because you don’t really believe him. The dress is gorgeous of course, he did a great job of helping you pick one out, but it doesn’t change the way you’ve been feeling for the past few days.

Before you met Rafayel, you never paid much attention to how you looked. Not in a bad way, you kept yourself neat and dressed up whenever you went out for special occasions, but it was never on your mind much. But now…You don’t know. It’s not Rafayel’s fault, the man has never been shy in complimenting you, but you can’t help but notice the type of women that like to approach him. All gorgeous enough to be models, with the confidence to match - seeing as they always have to gall to flirt with him even when you’re holding hands.

And you wish it didn’t get to you. It shouldn’t. Rafayel doesn’t even bat an eyelash at them, always focusing on you or making more obvious shows of affection to chase them away. Still, the more it happens, the more you find yourself caring about how you look, or not liking the way you look. 

And wearing a lovely dress only seems to highlight your self-perceived flaws.

“Do you really think it looks okay?” You ask again, fiddling with the satin self-consciously. 

Rafayel’s brow furrows a little. He tilts his head, looking almost like a confused puppy, “What is it? Do you not like the dress? Do you not want to go anymore? Please don’t make me go alone. These galleries are sooo boring without you, I hate them.”

“They’re your galleries,” you point out, shaking your head with a small smile, “How can you hate them so much? It’s your work, they deserve to be celebrated.”

“Why go stare at my own work when I can spend the night staring at you?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks. Usually you’d have a witty comeback to his flirting, but you can’t find anything tonight, not with how you’re feeling. So you just ruffle his hair fondly, avoiding the intense affection in his gaze.

“Come on, Thomas will be mad if we don’t show up. We need to go.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow. Before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist, keeping you anchored to where you are. Your heart jumps to your throat at the serious expression he suddenly gives you.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting strange.” 

Being an artist, Rafayel knows you, your face, your body, better than anyone. He’s always looking at you, holding on to every new detail he finds. Like the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How the tip of your nose turns rosy when you’re even a little cold. Or how your lips twitch before you lie. Like they are now.

“I’m fine, Raffie, just…tired,” you sigh, tugging against his hold, still trying to avoid him, “Now come on, we should go.”

“Hmmmmm…no.”

You squeak as Rafayel unexpectedly gives your wrist a sharp pull. The momentum sends you tumbling over the back of the couch, right into his lap, and before you can escape, he has you wrapped in his arms. Stuck.

“Rafayel-! Let go of me,” you growl, squirming around hopelessly. The man is surprisingly strong, and with your feet still tossed over the back of the couch, you can’t get enough leverage to escape.

“Nope, not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he hums, arms tightening around your waist.

You huff and give him a solid glare, “This isn’t funny, Rafayel.”

“And neither is hiding something that’s obviously bothering you,” he snips back softly, “You’re a horrible liar, miss bodyguard.”

“I just…” You cross your arms, face feeling warmer and warmer the longer he stares at you. Why does he have to be so stubborn at times like this? “I haven’t been feeling good about myself lately, okay? That’s it, now can we go?”

“Nope.” You resist the urge to groan.

“Thomas is going to throw a fit-”

“He can handle it tonight, I’ll give him a bonus. What’s more important is fixing this.” Rafayel props his chin on your shoulder, a contemplative frown pulling at his lips. “It’ll have to be something creative, which I’m great at, of course. But what?”

“Rafayel, this really isn’t necessary,” you grumble, “I don’t think it’s something you can fix.”

The artist shakes his head, pressing a faint kiss to your shoulder, “I think you underestimate me, cutie. But that’s okay, I think I know exactly what to do.”

Lifting you up, Rafayel sets you back on the couch gingerly and darts off after giving you instructions to not move. A heavy sigh passes your lips as you fix your dress, though it seems a bit pointless now. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be going to the gallery.

A part of you is secretly relieved at that. You love looking at Rafayel’s work, but since it’s his gallery, all the attention would be on him, and, consequently, you as well. It’s a bit suffocating. Still, you’re a little wary of whatever plan he has concocted. Rafayel is as unpredictable as he is talented.

Time seems to tick by slowly as you sit on the couch. You eye the clock, noting each minute as it passes by. Your nerves only continue to rise the longer you’re alone. What on earth is he doing?

On the tenth minute, Rafayel reappears, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He offers you a hand.

“The gallery is ready for you to attend, cutie.”

This time, your eyes narrow, though you still take his hand, allowing him to help you up. “I thought you said we weren’t going?”

“Oh, this is a different kind of gallery,” he hums, looking quite proud of himself, “I think you’ll enjoy this one a lot more. And I’ll be your personal tour guide.”

“How kind,” you muse, fighting your own smile. You might as well humor him, even if it doesn’t help. As long as Rafayel is happy, you can count the night as some kind of success.

Rafayel leads you to one of the spare rooms of the studios. You vaguely remember him telling you at some point that it’s a room he likes to keep his sketchbooks and unfinished projects in. You cast him a curious glance, but his eyes are set ahead as he touches the door, that smile still painted across his lips.

“These works are some of the most important that I’ve ever done, and you’ll be the first to see them. My heart rests in your hands tonight, so be careful, otherwise you might mortally wound me and I’ll never have the courage to paint again.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, about to make a sassy remark, but the words get lost when he presses the door open. Your eyes go wide at the sight before you.

The room is lit by candles, flickering with the flames of his evol. Their light dances across countless artworks spread across the room, hanging on every surface, each one depicting the same subject.

You.

Most of them are sketches, their strokes simple and spontaneous but laden with care, like he had wanted to capture a precious moment for himself. There’s one of you dozing off on the couch, another of you dancing in the kitchen. There’s even one of you holding a stuffy, from one of your many trips to the arcade.

The further you walk into the room, the more detailed the pieces become. 

A charcoal drawing of you in your uniform, gun drawn on something off page. The lines of your body are like water, fluid and graceful, the look in your eyes somehow burning with a fierce determination.

An oil painting of the night you spent at the market. Your image is looking at a sparkler, the light reflected in your eyes like stars, your cheeks painted a soft rosy color that seems to glow. It’s impossibly delicate, each stroke placed with such intention, it’s almost like you’re there again.

The final painting you come to make your face go warm again. It’s of you, curled up under a familiar set of sheets, mostly focused on your face. Your hair pools against the pillow, messy yet somehow charming in its unruliness. The morning sunlight dapples across your skin, highlighting the soft color of your lips and the gentle curve of your smile. But it’s your eyes that really make your breath catch. You can practically see the sleepy fog in them, like you had just woken, but also the undeniable warmth. The love.

It’s…beautiful. They’re all beautiful. And they’re all you.

“This is…” You swallow around the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling off-kilter. “I can’t believe you did all of these.”

Rafayel, who had been following behind you silently, hums softly and curls his arms around your waist. You lean back into his touch, letting it ground you and your swirling emotions.

“It’s been difficult even focusing on my work for the gallery. Everything else seems to pale in comparison when I have such a beautiful muse in front of me all the time,” he murmurs the words against your temple, voice quiet to match the atmosphere of the room. “I could devote lifetimes to painting you and never grow tired of it.”

You bite back a bashful smile, unable to resist the urge to tease him a little, “I didn’t realize I was so distracting.”

“Just ask Thomas. I think this is the most he’s ever had to remind me to finish my work,” Rafayel chuckles, giving your waist a squeeze. “But it was worth the missed deadlines. Afterall, isn’t it my responsibility as your employer and lover to make sure you understand how much I cherish you?”

Your heart flutters wildly as the brazen affection in his tone. It seems to melt away your doubts, replacing them with an overwhelming feeling of fondness for your artist. Only Rafayel would do something like this for you, how could you deny it?

Turning around in his hold, you lean up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, which you notice is an absolutely rosy shade of red. It makes you feel even more fond. You really really love this man.

“Thank you, my pretty fish. I feel much better now.”

That dazzling smile lights up his face again, and he leans down to scatter kisses all over your face, whispering between your bouts of giggles, “Anything for you, my queen.”

---

All the smooches. I love this man. I will die on the hill of using the nickname "fish" or "fishie" with him, I think it's soooo cute.

[heliads]

Something More

Based on this request: "a jealous four. reader isnt oblivious and sees the way four looks and acts with her but she gets tired of him taking long to shoot his shot so she starts flirting with another dude to make him jealous"

request sourced freshly from wattpad

masterlist

Something in this room is driving you mad. You can feel the weight of it pinned directly between your shoulder blades like a knife, following you relentlessly no matter where you go. You can pace back and forth across the training room, you can traverse the whole of the Dauntless complex, but you still know it’s there, he’s there. Watching. Waiting. 

Four. 

It is not an aggressive stare, this, it does not make you afraid, far from it. Four is not a threat to you, nor, you think, he will ever be. He is simply looking, simply observing, but for some reason that act has the power to completely throw you off kilter. 

Maybe it’s because he is only ever looking at you like this. Yes, that must be it. Four is an instructor, he has the responsibility to watch everyone here to keep them from harming themselves or others, but something is different when he’s around you. Instead of passively observing, he’s well and truly looking at you, like he likes what he sees and wants to see more, too. 

You try to put it out of your mind. Four is not your concern here, or not so anything more than the fact that he’s one of your initiation instructors and you’re trying not to get dropped before you enter the faction properly. It’s not Four’s fault if you get distracted by his attention. It’s not Four’s fault if it only ever leaves you wanting something more. 

As time goes on, though, and that something more never comes, you start to chafe against the constant pressure of his attention even more than before. He treats you differently than the other initiates, but only slightly, only ever enough to make you dream of the possibility of something changing down the line. He’ll never give you more than the time of day, but from the way he won’t ever stop his constant affiliation with you, you can’t escape the idea that maybe, just maybe, he wants that something more just as much as you do. 

The end of Phase One of Dauntless initiation draws ever closer, and Four fails to act on anything he may or may not be feeling. You could be wrong, of course, he could mean nothing by his ever present attention, but you’re not willing to take the risk of letting a small something fade away and be forgotten once initiation is over. 

If Four will not do something, well, then, the burden of acting on these impulses falls to you. Tricking an initiation leader into revealing his hand won’t be the easiest task in the world, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. Four should know that, seeing as he’s so inclined to marking your every action. He should know that you would provoke him like this, and he should have seen it coming from quite far off indeed. 

You need one more person in your scheme to get under Four’s skin. You find your target with ease— Thomas, a dark haired boy also in your initiation class,  close enough to your rank that you won’t have to worry about keeping him close but just enough below that you’ll be able to drop him without needing to fear retaliation. Thomas is fast, smart, strong, all the things that would perhaps give someone like Four cause for concern. In short, he is perfect, and so the plan is laid. 

Next morning, you ask Thomas if he wants to spar together the next morning, just to practice. He nods readily; you’re one of the best people here, it’s why you thought Four started paying attention to you in the first place, up until the point when he stayed there in your corner even when you made mistakes. The two of you head to a fighting ring near the side of the training hall, and if you specifically chose the one right in Four’s line of vision, well, no one needs to notice that but the two of you.

You jump up and down, trying to get some blood back into your muscles. Across the ring, Thomas does the same. He grins at you, evidently proud that you’ve chosen him of all the other eligible fighters. “Hope you aren’t looking for a victory, Y/N, because I’m going to kick your ass.”

He’s grinning, though, so you smile back. “You wish. When we’re done, you’ll have more broken bones than everyone in the med wing combined.”

“Promise?” Thomas asks, laughing, and lunges for you. You roll just in time, hitting the ground right before him. 

Usually, this is the part where you get right back up again, ready to take him down for good. However, your primary motive for this little endeavor isn’t necessarily to win, just to get someone’s eyes on you. So, you stay down, grappling with Thomas so he has no choice but to pin you, up until the point where you escape out from under him and do the same.

Thomas raises a brow suggestively. “You know, I may have lost that round, but I’m kind of happy anyway.”

You grin. “Does that mean you’re fine with losing again? I’m sure my ranking and I won’t have any problems with that.”

Thomas opens his mouth to retort, but he’s cut off by the sound of an irritable shout. It’s Four, arms folded so tightly across his chest that he looks a few seconds away from breaking a rib. “Focus, initiates! You’re not here to talk.”

When you glance over at him, you can’t help but smirk at how furious he looks. Everything is going according to plan, then, he’s jealous, just as expected. He may be in charge of everyone here today, but damn if you can’t play him like any other. Looks like all that talk about so few fears and so much bravery doesn’t stand in the face of plain old envy.

In a great show of reluctance, you get off of Thomas, extending your hand to help him up. He takes it, knuckles lingering over yours for a few moments longer than necessary. You can just make out Four’s silhouette over Thomas’ shoulder, how every fiber in his body seems to radiate with barely controlled anger.

You can only push a ruse so far before it becomes too obvious, though, so you drop Thomas’ hand and get back into a fighting position. This time, you try a little harder to win, exchanging punches and kicks for a good period of time before ‘accidentally’ dropping your guard and letting Thomas tackle you around the middle. He’s obviously in the mood to play around too, and takes his time spinning you in the air before placing you carefully on the ground.

“You better watch yourself,” he says, breath uneven from the exertion of the fight, “I think I’m catching up to you.”

You look up at him, eyes half-lidded. Thomas’ dark hair falls around his face, given the impression of a halo by the light right behind his head. All of a sudden, though, he’s ripped away, and the blinding light falls onto your face to reveal a newcomer. You didn’t hear Four climb up onto the platform of the fighting ring, nor did you detect him coming so close until he pushed Thomas away from you.

Four’s face is a dark slate, devoid of any emotion except a sharp, cold fury. His voice is clipped when he speaks, and when he tells you to meet him outside, now, Thomas actually jumps out of his way. Thomas flashes you an apologetic look as you go, but you can’t find it within you to return it. After all, this isn’t a punishment, not for you. 

In fact, this is exactly what you wanted. A scene, a public show, some sign that Four would be willing to transgress his perfect picture of leadership to make his feelings known to you. You may have forced his hand more than a little, sure, but all’s well that ends well.

The door slams shut behind you, abandoning both you and Four to the dark emptiness of the hall outside the training room. All the other initiates are somewhere inside that cavernous chamber, running laps or practicing their form, and the other Dauntless are at their jobs. No one would see the two of you, then. No one would see what transpired here at all save you and him and the beating tension between the two of you.

Four’s face doesn’t lose its chill even when Thomas is out of sight. “Do you want to tell me what that was?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I was sparring with a friend. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, really?” Four asks, “A friend? That’s what you call whatever that little display was?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him. It’s far more fun to play the innocence card as long as you can, it certainly doesn’t help Four’s temper.

Four scoffs. “Of course you do. You think I didn’t see how often you were looking at me? That whole time you were with him, purposefully going easy so he could keep his hands on you. You think I wanted to see that?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat, “You haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise. All you do is stand there and watch. Maybe one of us had to do something.”

“So that’s what this was?” Four asks, brows raised, “You wanted to do something? I’ll show you something.”

You’re expecting the kiss, you have been all morning, but that doesn’t stop the breath from leaving your lungs in one rapid rush when it finally happens. His hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you there, with him, in that moment. It feels like drowning, but the thought of living after this is such an inconceivable notion that you’d rather just let the waters claim you whole.

He breaks away eventually, unfortunately, and even in the shadows of the corridor with his face only bare millimeters away from yours you can still tell that he’s proud of himself, corners of his lips twisted up in victory. “Was it worth it?” He asks slowly.

You let out a half-laugh, a needy breath taking over the rest. “It was,” you decide.

“Good,” he tells you, and kisses you again, just so you can be sure. Perhaps jealousy has its merits after all.

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