#he didn't expect to enjoy being kind so much

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part two)

kms masterlist | <- part one | part three (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, y/n being an awkward mess, subtle and indirect mention of sexual themes

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron's intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and y/n's mind? that shit was even more tangled. but she hadn't spent seven years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through her fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: y/n and rafe were paired up for a 2 week-long art project. they agreed to meet during lunch break to start working on it. after y/n picked him up after PE, they headed for the school’s dining hall.

word count: 3.3k+

a/n: i don't have much to say for this one as it's just an immediate continuation of the last one but i'm very thankful for the likes and comments on the first part. i didn't expect any at all so a big thank you to everyone who decided to support <3 i hope you also enjoy this one as well :) (also super excited when i’ll get to future parts where y/n gets to be more silly :3)

Important: I started using dividers after chat convos that include more than one screenshot, so you guys know when to switch back to the written story. Yk you usually click on the image to get a full-screen mode to read the messages easier, so whenever the blue rectangle image pops up, you know when to back out. Makes it easier to avoid potential spoilers, hope that makes sense :P

The dining hall at Kildare Academy was moderately full. Most students’ classes were already over, and a lot of Kooks went to the restaurants down the street, even though the serving station offered fresh high-quality food.

Okay, fries weren’t exactly healthy but they probably made them from potatoes grown specifically for Kooks (yes, as a Kook yourself, you were their biggest hater).

Whatever. The dining hall wasn’t the reason your heart was about to explode in your chest.

No. You were having lunch.

With. Rafe. Cameron.

If someone had told you this morning, you would’ve laughed.

Because, hello??? Rafe had been your crush since you’d first set foot in Kildare Academy in fifth grade.

Okay, not exactly special—what Figure 8 girl hadn’t had a crush on Rafe at some point?

But that wasn’t the point. This whole ... thing just felt so surreal.

A crush had always been just that—a crush. You weren’t the type to walk up to a guy and say, Hey, you’re cute, let’s go on a date. That would mean putting yourself out there and making yourself vulnerable.

And the last thing you ever wanted was to be seen.

Not in a physical way. That was unavoidable. No, what scared you was someone actually seeing you, the parts of yourself you kept locked away.

Ew, that sounded so fucking dramatic.

So while your 11-year-old self was doing backflips of joy, your 18-year-old self was having a full-blown existential crisis.

Okay, maybe not that bad.

“You were right,” Rafe said, pulling you from your thoughts. He was sitting across from you, pushing his fork through his quinoa-veggie bowl.

You eyed him confused. “About what?”

Rafe nodded toward your fries, the corner of his lips tugging into a subtle smile. “I am a fries guy. Quinoa tastes like shit and rocks.”

You glanced at his bowl before meeting his gaze again, a knowing smile on your face. “I guess it’s the color. Red and black ones are usually more bitter and more firm than their white counterparts.”

Rafe raised a brow, amused. “As a quinoa expert, you could’ve warned me.”

Your cheeks heated. You kind of had, with that dumb joke outside the gym earlier. “I thought you already knew what it tasted like.”

“I do,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his bowl anyway. “Maybe I just didn’t want you to label me as the fries guy.”

Wait—was that a joke? And why did he care what you thought about him?

God, I suck at whatever this is.

So you just forced a chuckle and took a sip of your water.

…

…

...

Shit.

Now there was that awkward silence you always dreaded in conversations.

Okay, okay, stay calm.

Should I say something? Should I offer him my fries?

You almost laughed. Hell no, that’d be so weird. Plus the quinoa part of his bowl didn’t even take up a third of the whole meal.

You wished Cara were here. She’d know exactly what to say and how to act. She went on dates all the time, made out with guys at parties just for fun, and could hold a normal fucking conversation with a guy she was interested in.

“So, you like… a real artist or something?” Rafe asked absentmindedly, breaking the unbearable silence. “Since you picked Art as an elective?”

You looked up, quickly swallowing the bite of fries in your mouth before giving him a nervous smile. “Yeah, I mean—no, I wouldn’t call myself a real artist, not like Da Vinci or such.” You let out an awkward laugh. “I just draw sometimes when I’m bored.”

Jesus Christ, did he have to look at you like that? His blue eyes were drilling into your entire existence.

Rafe nodded. “Digital or traditional?”

You blinked at him, stunned.

How the fuck did Frat Boy Rafe Cameron know the difference between digital and traditional art?

Your expression made him smirk. And as if he had read your thoughts, he said, “My little sister Wheezie draws random shit on her iPad all the time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, figured it was a thing—”

“No, I mean—yes, totally,” you blurted, immediately turning red because you just cut him off. “Most people start with pencil and paper but drawing on a tablet or iPad is just as legit. Um… so, yeah … I do both, to answer your question.” You smiled awkwardly.

Help, he would’ve had a more entertaining conversation with a rock.

Rafe barely raised a brow, a lazy smile on his lips. “It’s cool that you draw. Guess I got lucky having you as my partner for this project.”

WHAT.

Okay, everything’s chill.

NO, NOTHING WAS CHILL.

Is he flirting with me??? Is he just being nice ??? WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS MEAN.

What were you even supposed to reply to that?

Hahaha, thanks, did you know I made our Sims get married in eighth grade? Topper was your best man by the way.

WHAT THE FUCK, NO, STOP.

Whatever, just say something. Anything.

“Thanks,” you mumbled with an embarrassed smile, eyes fixed on your fries and salad.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe lean back, pushing his half-eaten bowl aside. He shrugged. “Only sucks for you. Art’s not really my thing.”

No shit.

Also, what was that supposed to mean? Was he fishing for a compliment? Like Aww, no, come on, I’m sure you’re great at it.

Holy shit. Was Rafe Cameron secretly a pick-me guy? Were all these years crushing on him wasted?

“Yeah, I figured. Most people just take art class thinking it’ll be an easy A”, you said before he could say more and give you the ick.

OH my god, take it back, take it back—

When you saw his expression, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back. He looked… surprised? Confused? Maybe a little offended…?

Then the tension in his face eased. His lips twitched slightly before curving into a lopsided grin, making him look unexpectedly boyish.

“Shit, yeah. Guess that makes me ‘most people’”, he said with such ease, it was like you hadn’t just called him out.

How the hell did he manage to turn all your miserable attempts at a normal conversation into something so smooth? If you were in his place, you would've already walked out and dropped art class.

Yo, Mr Smith, this chick you paired me up with, she’s got the social skills of a dead fish.

This was so frustrating. It wasn’t like you were socially incompetent—not really—but around him, your brain just seemed to completely shut down.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, furrowing your brows, annoyed at your own nervousness.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe replied, shrugging. Then he looked at you, a teasing edge in his voice. “So, if your art grade tanks, you know who to blame.”

Okayyy, he was either trying to get on your good side or looking for a smooth way out of this project—and you weren’t sure which was worse.

You swallowed your last fry and gave a chuckle. I sound like a fake ass bitch. “I’m sure you'll manage. Art is not about drawing perfectly — it’s more about the ideas and how you approach them.”

Jesus, you sounded just like Mr. Smith.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a cocky smirk. “Alright, then I guess you’ll have to help me be more creative.”

...

HUH?

OKAY. I MEAN SURE.

Be for fucking real, did he even realize what his words did to you?

Of course, he did—he probably flirted with girls daily. Or was he just lucky to be born with full charisma stats?

Probably both.

God, this was so embarrassing. Your face probably screamed HI CAN YOU MARRY ME, and to him, you were just some random Kook girl he was stuck with for a boring art project.

Okay, wait no.

Now YOU sounded like a pick-me.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you said, cheeks pink, before clearing your throat to change the subject. “Okay, so… maybe we should start brainstorming some ideas? Like a mind map or mood board or something?”

Rafe leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, and you had to fight the urge to glance at his biceps which flexed slightly as he moved. “Mood board? You talking about Pinterest type shit?”

Okay, wow, Rafe was absolutely not the type of guy you thought he was. Did he know about this stuff from Wheezie? Or some friends-with-benefits girlie?

Um, no, Y/N, none of your business.

You gave him a quick nod. “Yeah, something like that. We can also just start by writing stuff down.”

Rafe shrugged in agreement. “Okay.”

Okay.

He looked at you expectantly.

Ugh, did he really expect YOU to be the one taking notes?

Well, crush or not, he was still just a guy, after all.

You reached for the iPad in your bag, grabbed the Apple Pencil, and opened the Notes app.

As you scribbled down today’s date and gave the note a title, Rafe leaned in even closer, glancing at your screen. “Is this the iPad you use for drawing?”

He was so close now, his woody-aquatic aftershave filling your nose, giving you a strange feeling in your chest … and a very special part in your lower body.

“Yeah,” you replied shortly.

“Show me something then.”

“No.”

HUH?

“No?” Rafe’s gaze flicked from the screen to your flushed face, his lips curling into a crooked grin. There was a cocky glimmer in his gaze.

Good heavens, up close his eyes looked even more beautiful. They were the kind of blue people wrote bad poetry about. To you, they were a pretty contradiction—cold in color, warm in the way they lingered on your own eyes.

Heart racing, you looked away and laughed nervously. “I mean… maybe we should focus on the project first, you know, time pressure and all.”

With an amused scoff, Rafe leaned back again, glancing at his phone (wow, rude) for a second before saying, “To the boring part then."

Somehow it felt like you'd scratched his ego.

Girl, how could you mess up this badly? He probably thought you were some pretentious nerd now.

“So… do you have any ideas?” You twirled the Apple Pencil in your fingers, just praying for this painfully long lunch break to end.

Rafe pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw. The glass of his Rolex reflected a spectrum of lights under the ceiling’s lights. “Uh… dunno. What’s the prompt again? A modern take on the Greek gods?”

“A reinterpretation,” you corrected — then realizing you sounded like a know-it-all, so you quickly added, “but yeah, a modern version could definitely count.”

He nodded absentmindedly, fingers drumming on the table. “Okay, so…", he gave a dry laugh and ran a hand over his face. "Shit, what a stupid prompt."

You chewed the inner part of your cheeks. Okay, he clearly had zero interest in spending his free period working on some elective class’ project with you.

But it had been his idea to meet during lunch, you reminded yourself.

Forcing a smile, you offered, “We can always do this later. We still have two weeks.”

Rafe raised a brow. “You got plans or something?”

Oh. Guess that didn’t go over well.

You shook your head. “No, but if you’re not feeling it—”

“I’m not,” he cut in, his fingers stopping their steady rhythm against the table. “But we’re already here, so.”

That didn’t sound very motivated.

“Yeah, I guess”, you said, cringing at the sudden bitterness in your tone.

By the shift in Rafe’s expression, he must have noticed but before he had a chance to comment on it, you quickly picked up on what he’d said earlier. “So, a modern version of Olympus sounds fun. Maybe we can make it about the gods’ roles in today’s society or something like that.”

Rafe eyed you quietly, his expression impossible to read. He then tilted his head, scratching his nose. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe Zeus as the CEO of Olympus Industries or some shit. He’s the big boss, right? And everyone else just kinda works for him.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. A corporate structure? Why were you not surprised.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused.

You shook your head, cheeks heating up again. “Nothing, that’s… that’s good.”

He raised his brows, a challenging tone in his voice. “You think it’s crap.”

“No,” you replied quickly, then adopted a more serious expression. “Really, it’s a nice take. Maybe his wife — Hera I mean — could be his girl boss PR manager, always cleaning up his scandals?”

A grin tugged at his lips, and with that, the weird tension in the air seemed to fade. “Shit, isn’t she also his sister? Well, yeah, guess she’s gotta cover up his dozen affairs. That guy’s a huge player.”

Okay, real talk—where did he get all this information from? He really didn’t seem like the guy to be interested in greek mythology.

It was cute though.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You seem to be an expert in this field.”

He scoffed amused, leaning back into his chair. His eyes mustered you with a strange mix of entertainment and irritation. “You think I'm a fuckboy or some shit?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Huh? What did he mean—

…

Did he-- ... OH SHIT.

A revolting feeling spread in your stomach and your cheeks probably invented a new shade of red.

WHY ON EARTH HAD YOU PHRASED IT LIKE THAT?!

Some evil gods or spirits must be messing with you right now because there was no way this situation could get any more awkward.

Frantically, you shook your head. “What? I… oh my god, no. NO! I was referring to the Greek gods. Not… you don’t give off such vibes. I mean, it’s none of my business anyway.”

Hey, if there’s a sniper out there, please take me out.

In your mind, you already estimated the cost of moving to another country. Canada had pretty landscapes and New Zealand--

A laugh escaped his lips — cocky, yet carrying a certain warmth. It made your heart stop and race at the same time.

“Relax,” he said bemused, leaning forward with his arms crossed, biceps flexing again. “People have said worse things to my face.”

No, this didn’t sit right with you.

You shook your head again, daring to meet his eyes. “No, I’m serious, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just … surprised about your knowledge of Greek mythology.” You froze, realizing this also sounded stupid. “Not that I took you for clueless…” Shit. You sighed. “It was stupid of me to phrase it like that and I don’t want you to think I take you for a fuckboy. It’s a shitty term anyway.”

Your nerves were going crazy and you fidgeted with the case of your iPad, waiting for his response.

Rafe silently STARING at you didn’t help at all. He seemed … surprised, maybe a little perplexed even.

SAY SOMETHING PLEASE.

“Alright”, he finally said, his usual cocky expression returning to his face. He slightly shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze for just a second but long enough for you to notice. “Guess I picked up a bit from Wheezie when she had to do a presentation for school or whatever. She couldn't shut up about it. Shit was annoying as hell.”

For a moment, you didn't know what to respond. Why wasn't he offended? Why didn't he mock you for being so awkward?

You smiled, trying to relax your nerves. “Sounds like we could use her little expert knowledge on this project.”

Rafe gave a low chuckle. “Well, I believe we’ve already got a little expert right here”, he said with a crooked smile, his eyes burning a hole into your soul.

Oh. My. God.

The teasing edge in his voice made your brain shut down. This had to count as flirting, right? RIGHT?!

You chuckled nervously, cheeks a deep shade of red, and placed the Apple Pencil back on the screen. “Then I hope whatever I picked up from reading Percy Jackson will be enough.“

That's it, Y/N, you are officially banned from doing any more jokes.

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

In English class, you could finally breathe again.

Your suffering was over.

During the rest of the lunch break, Rafe and you had talked about some more ideas. Gladly, you hadn’t embarrassed yourself any further (if that was even possible because you’d definitely reached your peak today).

At the end of lunch, Topper had picked him up and they’d left for their own English class. Your goodbyes had been a little awkward but you’d managed.

Right now, you were grateful they didn’t attend the same class as you because you certainly didn’t want to listen to them laughing about what a weird ass person you were.

Okay, just breathe. I did it, it’s over.

You tried to concentrate on whatever Mrs. Andrade was talking about but only half the students truly paid attention.

Afternoons in the Outer Banks truly were a cruel thing.

So you decided to check your phone:

Sighing quietly, you put your phone away and rubbed your temples. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, yet at the same time, it felt so empty.

Maybe I'm lucky and tomorrow I’ll wake up to a big newsflash: This just came in, Kildare Academy was reduced to ashes by a sudden fire.

But when had you ever been lucky?

Your phone buzzed again but you really didn’t feel like talking and thinking about Rafe anymore.

This guy had thrown you off track in just an hour but in the best and worst way possible.

And even though every part of you wanted to run from the thought of seeing him again — the way that uncomfortable feeling in your chest wouldn’t let up — there was still a small part of you that found yourself oddly eager to see him again, work with him on that stupid little project and listen to his stupid little laugh.

Because somehow in just sixty minutes you’d learned more about Rafe Cameron than you had in nearly seven years at Kildare Academy.

For instance, he was a lot kinder than you’d expected. Not that you’d ever thought he was like a high school movie bully or some shit but his occasional soft smiles and the way he didn't mock you when you'd said some stupid shit had definitely surprised you.

Plus he seemed to care about his little sister which was such an attractive attribute (and the bare minimum let's be honest).

All of this was so strange.

It sounded stupid but Rafe Cameron had always been just a concept to you. A crush you enjoyed looking at and maybe making up your own little idea of (and some scenarios to fall asleep to be for real).

But now he was... real and—

Bzzrt.

Seriously, Cara had class too—and with Ms. Langford, no less. And unlike Mrs. Andrade, she wasn’t exactly chill.

You picked up your phone again, expecting some delusional text messages—but the moment you saw the notification on your lock screen, your heart stopped.

No fucking way.

NO. FUCKING. WAY.

Holding your breath, you unlocked your phone, and the second your eyes landed on the profile picture, your heart took off in a full sprint. You didn’t even register Mrs. Andrade calling your name.

Because by some strange twist of fate, Rafe Cameron had gotten your number and decided to text you—after what you were sure had been your ultimate humiliation today.

You didn’t know whether to grin, cheer, or jump out of your seat—shit, maybe all three—but instead, you just sat there, wondering if there really was a god of luck and if he’d just decided to bless you.

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kms masterlist | <- part one | part three (soon) ->

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Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee

[multifictional]

A court of Burning Seasons || Part 2

— > eris vanserra × archeron!reader, lucien vanserra x elain archeron

• Part 2: at the human festival Elain is enjoying her time with Lucien while dealing with her dwelling emotions. In the meanwhile, y/n finds refuge in her loneliness but someone unexpected interrupts her.

• Summary: Y/n Archeron always felt the pull of autumn, even as a human. The fallen leaves, the warm colours, the spicy sweets, even her birthday. For Elain, it was the sun and the way of feeding her gardens and flowers with its light. Together in the Night Court after being thrown into the Cauldron, they both feel out of place. But while Elain has her growing bond with Lucien, y/n remains an outsider. With her powers still silents even after years, she feels a longing she can't quite place. A mating bond with Eris Vanserra is the last thing she expects and also what she seemed to need. But nothing is ever easy as it seems in Prythian, especially not with Beron impeding presence and courts rivalries always finding a way of creating complications.

• Warnings: an Elucien moment with building tension. Eris appearance is enough of a warning I suppose.

• Word count: 4943

[part 1]

The human lands weren’t as you remembered. It didn’t come as a surprise; after all, you hadn't been there during the war with the King of Hybern. Things had undoubtedly changed, like you always suspected. Years passed, and time always altered things, leaving a permanent mark behind, no matter what.

Staying a few steps behind, you followed the others into the village filled with the familiar sounds and smells that now seemed far too different. Feyre and Rhysand, as expected, led the group, their heads held high, looking like they owned the entire world, untouchable. You rolled your eyes at the sight. Sometimes, you missed the old Feyre, the version that wasn't so blinded by power.

Your gaze softened as it landed on your sister and Lucien, walking side by side, sharing a comfortable silence with their hands tucked together and fingers entwined. Their connection was undeniable, although hesitancy still loomed over them at every step.

You didn’t mind being the one left out, trailing a little behind. Loneliness never bothered you. If anything, the feeling of not being pampered was something you always welcomed with quiet pleasure. And today it felt a rare gift to breath, finally out from the Court of Dreams, even if you knew it wouldn't last more than a few hours.

Elain had been right. It was midst autumn in the human lands. The air smelled of decay and renewal, and as you walked silently, your heart began to thrum heavier than usual, in time with the rhythm of the fallen leaves you were scrounging below your feet.

Damn, how you had missed this sound.

You reached down to pick up a fallen leaf, inspecting it with quite reverence. It was deep brown, with veins of gold tracing the edges, still soft despite its dying state. It had fallen recently, not yet dry, but slowly wilting. Even in death, there was still life, and you always found comfort in that. To you, it symbolized the bittersweet balance between the endings and new beginnings.

Elain’s soft chuckle broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find her watching you with amusement. "Here you go," she teased softly. “I told you.”

“You like leaves?” Lucien asked, surprised.

Even after all this time, he still didn't fully understand you. Nobody did, not even yourself sometimes. You hesitated for just a moment, as much as you trusted your only friend, the question almost felt... personal.

But it was Elain who answered. She scoffed, but there wasn’t malice in her voice, just an affectionate knowing. “She always did. Ever since we were children. Always picking them up.”

Her openness in sharing this little detail you always kept so guarded made you stiffen slightly, a strange discomfort creeping in. But before you could retreat into yourself, Lucien's gentle smile reassured you. “Well, they are kind of magical.”

His voice grew suddenly quiet and his expression shifted into something nostalgic and thoughtful, his gaze clouding into something deeper than memories, taking him to another time, another place. As much as he hated his old court, it was still where he had learned how fragile life could really be, even for a Fae. The forest, with all its towering trees and fallen leaves, had always been his shelter, the only refuge untouched by his father cruelty.

Sensing the shift in the air, perhaps from the subtle tension in Lucien’s body or through the bond she was finally start to acknowledge, Elain squeezed his hand, the gesture grounding him back to the present. His smile returned, small but sincere, with the intention of brushing off the weight of his memories. Elain was too attentive to let go, but still, she didn’t press. If he was willing to give her time and space, then so would she.

"I can show you more than just trees here," Elain murmured, her voice a soft invitation while humans started to gather from their houses to approach the crowd and socialize. "We’re here for the festival, and I want to share it with you."

Lucien's heart thrummed at the idea. Even though the mansion that once belonged to the Archerons was destroyed by the war, they were still in the human lands. He thrived for the little moments he could get to simply stay with her, to learn more of how she saw her world, and of what it was really made of. Just the thought of sharing something new with Elain, something that would be theirs, filled his heart with a joy he never felt before.

Without realizing it, Lucien took a step closer to Elain and, to his surprise, she did the same. For a fleeting moment, the people around them faded away, leaving just the two of them, far away from the real world and on the edge of something deeper.

"Alright, alright, that's enough company for the night," you chimed in, unable to hold back a little chuckle, breaking their bubble. You could feel the tension hanging in the air and you couldn't help but tease. "I will leave you two alone."

You caught your sister's flustered reaction as you gave them an almost too exaggerated shrug before turning away without many ceremonies.

Elain's reaction wasn't lost on Lucien either. He had already promised he wouldn't press her, for any reason at all. So he made himself another promise: he wouldn't let his instincts, or even Elain's for that matter, to get the better of them before she was absolutely ready.

He almost kissed her. The thought sent a tightness through his chest. He had dreamed about how this very moment could happen many times. But he wouldn't let it happen like this. It was too soon. Too fast.

So Lucien found himself thankful for your timely interruption.

It was almost strange to think that, once, you had been among humans. And, more than that, that you had been one of them, living a life that should have been normal but wasn't. Years had passed, and everything changed. Your body, for instance. You were stronger now, a little taller, and sharper than before, in ways that weren't just physical. But you never cared about that. Not the way your sister did.

What would never change, though, was the feeling of not belonging. You still felt it, in every fiber of your body, as you stood in the village square, watching the humans dance beneath the lanterns and remembering how you used to share these same festivals. No matter where you were or how much the world around you changed, you always felt like an outsider looking in.

There was one thing that always felt right, someway. That made you feel less alone. And as the autumn wind brushed against your skin, cool and crisp, you remembered what it felt like. You stopped in the middle of the path and shrugged off your light jacket. Closing your eyes, you relaxed your shoulders, letting the welcoming sting of the wind and the scent of autumn settle something restless in you.

You had missed this feeling.

A familiar spicy scent made you hum appreciatively. It was a mix of spice and fire, deep and rich, but before you could savour it, reality hit you like a slap and your hands clenched at your sides. You perfectly remembered the day Feyre had returned to your family's mansion, asking for help. She had struggled to explain that mortal foods no longer satisfied her.

That's it, you swallowed down the bitterness you felt. I'm here, and I can't even eat the food. Now I belong even less. Amazing.

You exhaled sharply, but you barely had the time to finish the thought when someone brushed past you, his voice cutting through the din of the festival, just loud enough to be overheard.

"Sleeping on your feet in the middle of a party and blocking the path for everyone's enjoyment,” his words were dry of amusement, purposely mocking and laced with something sharper that seemed disdain. "Mortals never learned how to behave properly."

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your first instinct was to ignore him. Whoever he was, he couldn't possibly know that you had once been raised to act like a lady, or that you had been taking a moment to breathe the air that made you feel something, anything, before returning to the golden cage that was the Night Court.

Mortals. That's how he called you. And only a Fae could say something like that. So you found yourself calling him out, your tone calm but sharp enough to cut. Usually, you would have turned around and let people talk. After all, the Mother only knew how many times you had to do this with Feyre and her little Inner Circle.

But something, about his exact words, about him, made you react.

"I'm not a mortal, you asshat," you shot back, not bothering to raise your voice. If he was Fae, he would hear you just fine. "You should be able to recognize the difference instead of mumbling about manners."

You didn't wait for a response, you didn't even care if your words had reached him. You had already decided to walk away with the strange satisfaction of having spoken up after so much time and ready to disappear into the festival crowd.

But the Fae did hear you.

And, as you turned to walk away, a strange feeling made you glance over your shoulder at the exact same time he turned towards you. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Your eyes met.

A flicker of color. Auburn hair, sharp face and an assessing gaze that burned like embers. Something in you tugged, deep and sudden, like a whisper of wind you couldn't quite catch, completely out of reach. It disappeared almost right away and you turned away first, pushing it into the back of your mind before, the moment already long gone.

Behind you, the stranger remained still, standing in the middle of the crowd like you had been before, his body rigid and his vision sharpened as his breath caught in his throat. He felt it, stronger than anything he ever felt. Something snapped right in the middle of his chest. He recognized it exactly for what it was: a bond.

The mating bond.

He didn't call out for you, he could't. He couldn't do anything other than staring at the place where you had been and disappeared before his very eyes. And for the fist time after so many centuries, the stranger was completely, utterly frozen in shock.

Lucien and Elain wandered through the market of the festival, the scent of spiced pastries filling their nostrils as they passed the stands. He glanced between the crows and Elain, her silence louder than the chatter around them. After their almost kiss she had withdrawn into herself again. Not entirely, but enough for him to feel it. He knew they would have to talk about what happened sooner or later, but he wouldn't press her. Not yet, anyway.

“Do you think y/n will be fine alone?” Elain murmured, her fingers twitching over the edge of her dress.

Lucien exhaled quietly and shook his head, seeing right though it. An excuse. A distraction from had nearly happened, perhaps to ease the tension between them, without addressing it directly.

And he let her have it. “You know your sister better than that," he said, turning slightly towards her. "She can handle herself just fine. And perhaps being alone is exactly what she is after.” He approached her with an hesitant a step, lowering his voice just a fraction. “Let’s not talk about her right now, alright?”

Elain’s eyes flickered up to his, uncertain but searching for something. Then, she nodded. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. On one side, she did realize what would have happened if her sister didn't interrupt, and she felt relieved. On the other side, though, the excitement for the novelty of their relationship lingered inside her. She thrived to discover the depth of what it could really be, without blaming their bond and her trauma for it.

Without realizing it, her hand grazed his arm, a featherlight touch that sent something twist in Lucien's chest. He went still, forcing himself to breathe and to not lean into it too much, although his instincts roared otherwise. Enjoy this, no expectation of any sort, he had to remind himself, do not ruin this opportunity.

They drifted towards a small, hidden garden close enough to the main road, its entrance framed with twisting ivy and golden leaves. Lucien wasn't surprised. In the short time he had truly known Elain, he had recognized her pull towards nature, especially gardens and flowers. It was one of the many things that called him to her. There was something about gardening, a simplicity, that was so Elain.

Lucien felt her hand slipping away and he immediately felt the absence of her warmth. The bond had always been strong for him. For Elain it was quieter, something resting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to snap into place. But for him, it was a living thing, a force he had to keep tamed so it wouldn't consume him whole. And now, at their first date, he felt it pulling towards her like a non ending force.

He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her, but his smile didn't falter, as Elain walked through the garden and kneeled. When she stood, he was beside her in an instant, not hovering, just curious. She was holding delicately a dry sunflower.

"This shouldn't have been here," she murmured sadly, almost to herself, tracing the petals gently with gentleness, as if it was something sacred, something suffering an atrocious pain. "There wasn't enough sun. It died without it."

Lucien tilted his head. "You like sunflowers?"

Elain smiled despite herself/a small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips. "Y/n showed them to me where we were kids. She had realized they seemed to be around in autumn."

"Your sister has an eye for detail."

She smiled smugly/Elain let out a soft, amused huff. "Oh, she still does. Even if she doesn't seem like it/pretends otherwise," she shook her head, but her smile faltered/faded as she looked back down at the flower. "It soon became my favorite flower."

He studied her, his voice careful. "And why is it?"

Elain hesitated, as if considering whatever or not to answer, but then she quietly responded. She heard the cautious and pure curiosity in his tone, and it warmed her heart. She was glad it wasn't the bond influence, but simply him, wanting to know her as a person first, and later as a mate. In that very moment, she didn't mind either of them.

"They remind me of the sun," there was a strange confidence in her eyes. "And, without it, we wouldn't have flowers of any kind. Nothing would grow. The sunlight feeds the flowers, and it feeds us too."

In the unmistakable silence that followed, something in her eyes shone as she met his gaze. "I know it was you," she said softly, still holding the sunflower. "It was you who told Feyre I should spend time outside. When you came the first time to the Night Court," she turned the flowers between her fingers. "I should thank you for that, because it had worked. You understood what I needed without even knowing me."

Lucien swallowed, stiffening slightly. He hadn't expected her to mention it. His throat felt tight as he remembered. Mother, he did remember far too well how small she had seemed back then. Like a shadow of herself, a shell so close to herself nobody knew how to open even a little bit. He remembered how she addressed their bond without even realizing, how she said nonchalantly he could hear his heartbeat, perhaps even hearing how it has skipped a beat at those very words. It was when his mating instincts flared for the first time.

You reminded me too much of my mother, he thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. The memory of her sending painful stabs into his heart. Alone and trapped in her own court, unable to step out from the shadows, trapped by a cruel a fate she didn't chose.

He had know what she needed. Even then, he had always been the only one who actually did. Even more than y/n.

"You don't need to thank me. Sometimes what we need isn't obvious, even to the people who are supposed to love us," he muttered, making the silence linger for a second. "I just realized how clear it was that all you needed was fresh air and time. That's all."

Elain exhaled, a barely audible sound. "And yet, they didn't. You were the one who realized. Not them. You."

Lucien looked didn't know what to say to that. So instead, he reached for sunflower in her hand and gently took it. "This isn't dead," he murmured, assessing it. Elain saw his mechanical eye concentrating and then, with a flick of his fingers, a golden thinner of magic passed over the petals, before passing it to her with a knowing smile. "It just needs time to reshape. But it's in good hands now."

Elain looked at the flower, then him, understanding gnawing at her. He had used his magic to heal it. For her. It wasn't dead, but it had been at the bridge of dying, but she had picked it up just in time. Lucien had understood what her heart wished without her saying it aloud.

"Or..." Lucien added after some seconds. "You could keep it as a memory from the human lands. To remind yourself that just because your life changed doesn't mean you have to forget who you were. Because it's still part of you." He reached out and tackled the sunflower carefully into her hair. "It suits you. It's radiant, just like you."

A flush deepened on Elain's neck. She was closer now. Close enough for him to see the way her gaze flickered from his eye to his lips. Lucien's chest tightened at the sight, as he felt it through the bond. Her excitement. Her curiosity. Now even stronger than before.

But her wouldn't rush this. He wanted to do this right.

"Shouldn't we check on y/n?" he asked instead. He didn't step back, but he didn't move forward either.

Elain grimaced slightly, glancing at the forgotten festival, not ready to leave the garden behind yet. "Do we really have to?"

Lucien smirked at her quiet tone, startled by the sudden vulnerability in her tone. "You know we do."

She sighed, but the, hesitantly yet deliberately, she reached for his hand. Lucien swallowed hard, trying to push down his instincts that were now in overdrive at her gesture, at her willingness to try, to understand the bond. It was a tortuous dance between patience and restraint, but he would wait, because she was worth it. But even so, walking beside her, hearing her laugh, feeling her delicate and at times hesitant touch, seeing her eyes sparkle with a light that he had longed to see, it was more than he deserved, and less than he craved.

Yet, he wouldn't take it for granted. Not ever. Elain needed this, even if she didn't yet realize it herself. He wouldn't let her excitement rush her into things she wasn't ready for. She wanted to understand things first, she had said it clearly, and for that to happen, she needed time. They both needed it.

Lucien wanted to take things slowly, to get to know her, even if that meant fighting his own nature. But he would do that for her. But he couldn't deny what he couldn't still fully believe. They were together. They were a couple. The word still felt almost foreign to him, unreal. But it was happening. She had given him a chance, and he wouldn't let anything, anything at all, get in between.

He was with her. And that alone, to him, was all that mattered.

You walked between the stands of the human festival, ignoring the chatters that flowed all around you. The deep purple of your dress trailed over the paving stone paths, the hem rustling through the fallen leaves. In the end, you hadn't been able to resist your own urges and you now stood in the line at one of the food stalls.

A few moments later, a warm cinnamon roll sat in your hands, the scent rich with spice. You took a bite, but it didn't taste as you remembered, like you expected. Not entirely bad, but still, different. Like most things since your transition. Yet you had seen it and you couldn't help it. The simple sweet flavor had been a staple of your childhood, a small comfort in a life were belonging didn't exist for you.

But it wasn't enough. The feeling you sought didn't come, and you knew the reason. It was because it wouldn't last long. Nothing ever did. Still, you were determined to steal a few moments of peace away from Velaris, from the suffocating cage of the Court of Dreams.

Then, suddenly, you smelled it.

A scent, faint but unmistakable, that you would recognize everywhere: smoke and burning woods. It made your stomach tighten.

The vendor recognized the wrinkle of your nose and the way you stopped eating. "Is there something wrong, milady?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his careful politeness and the tremble of his voice. Despite all Feyre's efforts, humans still feared the fate, and they didn't bother hide it from you. Or, perhaps, you just observed too much. You didn't cover your years like your sister and her company, you didn't soften your presence, and you couldn't care less whatever they recognized what you had become or not.

It wasn't your problem.

You scoffed. "No need to hide the fear, sir. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have the chance to ask." The vendor paled, taken aback by your attitude, and you just smirked. "Something is burning around here, anyway," you added nonchalantly.

it was a passing customer that, overhearing the interaction, interjected, clearly oblivious to your nature. "Oh, that's just the fire show right around the corner of the next street."

The shoddy cinnamon roll fell from your hands as your heart jolted. You didn’t bother picking it up, your legs started to move even before your mind could even catch up, the scent guiding you.

Fire show? You nearly laughed at the coincidence. The human festival had dozens of pretty performances: music, dancing, puppet shows, cooking competitions. But this? You couldn’t miss it for the world. Not after so many years, even if it wouldn’t been the same anymore.

As soon as you approached, your breath caught in your throat. Flames danced above some dancer heads, curling, twisting in the night cool air and casting golden lights over the onlookers.

It felt magical, even if there wasn’t magic in it. Not there. Just some tricks to fool the villagers, especially kids. Just (sleight) of capable hands and well placed oil. Just fire. Raw, bright and untamed.

And it called to you, challenging you to come closer. And you accepted the call instantly. Without even comprehending what you were doing, you stepped forward, drawn to the lingering flames, your fingers just about to reach for them.

"I wouldn't do it, if I were you," a voice, deep and edged with amusement, stopped you cold. You blinked, startled, as you realized how the heat of the flames were close to your skin, the fire licking towards your outstretched hand, ready to burn. "Fire burns hotter when it knows it has an audience," the voice continued, smooth as the smoke surrounding the place. "Especially curious little foxes like you. You wouldn't want to be the ash it leaves in behind."

You retreated your hand, but didn't step back. The heat of the fire wasn't bothering you at all.

"Foxes are curious, but they're also clever," you said, hand still hovered near the fire. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

"And perhaps that's exactly what it was," he chuckled.

Not bothering to answer his comment, you brought your attention back to the show, refusing to indulge him further. "Maybe I didn't mind getting burned, and you just ruined my fun."

A growl made you turn, confused rather than scared. The male stood in front of the first line of villagers, several paces away, watching you with open amusement. Yet, no one was close enough to him. It was as if the air around him carried an aura of unspoken warning, a power that unconsciously warned people to stay at by. It was silent, predatory. Even the fire beside you burned hotter, stirred by his presence.

His auburn air caught the firelight, framing the sharp and elegant figures. Russet eyes, keen and knowing. Recognition slammed into you roughly. It was him. The same male who had sneered at you earlier, calling you mortal.

Your lips curled in irritation. "Oh, you're finished complaining about human manners? Or are you here to critique something else? The way I stand, perhaps?" you remarked.

The male smirked, taking an unhurried step toward you while you refused to move. "A mistake on my part," he admitted, his voice like an intentional purr. "You're anything but mortal, are you?" he tilted his head, studying you thoroughly. "And lacking entirely of self preservation, it seems."

"And what would you know about self preservation?"

A shadow flickered across his expression. It was something distant, unreadable and quick. The second later it was gone, replaced by his impassivity. "Everything and nothing."

Your brow lifted. "Wow, how enlightening," you said, turning back to the flames once again. He chuckled lowly, indulgent, in response. You had expected him to lose interest, but instead he moved closer and in a second he was standing so close to you that your arms nearly brushed. A sigh escaped your lips. "Go bother someone else."

He didn't back down. "But I'm enjoying myself," you shot him a glare, but he ignored it. "If you want to see real fire, you should seek someone who really understand its power."

You rolled your eyes, irritation flaring. "This show is made without the advantage of magic. By mortals," you pointed out, mimicking his earlier sneer and gaining just a smirk from his part. "Not everyone can say they could. Not everyone needs magic to wield fire."

"Not everyone is born with it in their veins, but perhaps..." his voice lowered and his eyes flickered with something almost knowing but still unreadable. "Perhaps you're just a little flame waiting to ignite."

You scoffed, but it felt hollow. You faced him, your eyes sharpening, more assessing. Your heart was too loud in your years, too irregular, even for a fae. Something about this male made you think.

And then it all clicked.

He wasn't just some male. His air. His eyes. The sharp angles of his face. He did look familiar. Not because you had met him before the festival, but because you had seen those features before. Not on him. On someone else. Someone closer to you, your only friend. Lucien.

As the puzzle completed inside your head, the gasp that left your throat was unfiltered. Your pulse lost a beat.

Not just some fae, but Eris Vanserra.

Eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court and its legitimate heir to the throne. A male wrapped in a thousand of rumors and stories, none of them kind. Not that you cared, anyway. In your eyes, stories will always be stories, and everyone is capable of making them. Especially someone like the Inner Circle of the Night Court.

Eris expression turned smug, your thoughts given away. "Figured it out, have you?"

You didn't answer directly. "I'm not a little flame. And even if I was, you would never know."

"Oh, I most certainly would."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice called your name. Elain's figure was walking with purpose towards you, a few step ahead from her mate. Lucien's face darkened as soon as he spotted Eris standing too close to you, tension instantly crackling between them.

"Lady Elain," Eris mused. "And my little brother, too."

Lucien's voice was cool. Too cool. "Eris."

"Enjoying yourself?" Eris drawled, his gaze moving to Elain. "About time."

His brother's jaw tensed. "What do you want?"

Eris only chuckled. "I would be careful if I were you, little brother. History has a way of repeating itself."

It wasn't his usual wit taking place. It was a warning.

Lucien stiffened. A silent conversation passed between them, one layered with too much history, too much left unsaid. Then, just as smoothly as he appeared, Eris turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

A silent conversation passed between the Vnserras, one that left even Lucien confused. He knew though how Eris acted, he knew his ways. He knew that there was a hidden meaning behind his words not just his past and the pain that caused him. It was something else. Eris gave his back to the three of them without adding more, glancing a last glance at you before disappearing into the crowd.

Elain scoffed sharply. "He isn't subtle at all."

Absolutely not.

Feyre and Rhysand returned right in that moment, their smug expressions telling you their meeting had gone well. Of course. In one way or another, they always got their way. Every fucking time, no matter the situation.

"We're ready to go," said Feyre, satisfied. "Home awaits us."

Home. Velaris never was that for you. And neither had the human lands. Then why you felt the hole in your chest grew bigger? Why was it so hard to not look back? Why you had to push down the strange tug at your heart, the same one that told you to stay?

And, more specifically, why did it felt as if winnowing back to the Night Court was the greatest mistake of all?

A.N: I apologize for the delay and for the length, I will try to make the next shorter (if I can). I was actually feeling very nervous and insecure about posting this, but I hope you liked Eris first appearance and his first interaction with the reader. Let me know if you liked it and your opinion if you would like, it means a lot to me. And thank you if read until here!

Taglist is always open <3

Taglist: @wrenisrad @antisocial-architect @homeslices @fox-in-flowers @thecraziestcrayon @bunnyredgirl @lizzytish82 @lportes-22 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @iowaladynerd @samuelseoswife @abbott976 @marrass @rcarbo1 @the-fandom-ness @selena-24 @sushijimaaa @elisabethch82

[saoirsezz]

ᯓ BENEATH THE ICE | 리키

PAIRINGS. grumpy!riki x sunshine!reader

GENRE. fluff, maybe angst (?) grumpy x sunshine trope >u<

WARNINGS. none

SHO'S NOTE. this is one of my favorite tropes so here, this is probably gonna be long so, enjoy (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

HIS COLD STARE was enough to scare everyone away, the sparkless gaze, soulless personality and spine-shivering voice was something all of the student's in decelis academy feared in the boy, none other than, riki nishimura.

lots of old students said that ever since he transferred (which was way back in middle school), he had already kept himself away from people, always eating alone, never having friends, maybe kept one or two but was never seen in big groups or parties. some said it's just him being the biggest introvert and never liking people's presence, or he's some heartless jerk who scared everyone away. no one dared to find out which.

you always found those comments rude, some even too far on the line, sure, he's quiet maybe a lil scary but you were never the type to judge someone. something about him intrigued you, you were always a curious person. and well, you were pretty much the joy of decelis. average, but works hard typa student, friendly to everyone, and willing to help to anyone who asks for one. so you pretty much wanted to get his heart like everybody else. (not in that way, but maybe)

to your luck, in the new semester, nishimura riki was assigned to sit next to you. as usual, no talks. he sat there silently as if he was the only one in the room. you had no problem making the first move in a conversation, but why did this seem so hard?

you gulped, then softly said, “do you think you'll do well this semester?” your head turns to him, waiting for a response. you see him move a bit, then his voice speaks,

“maybe.”

his voice was low, and deep. it didn't send shivers down your spine as they said, but it was surely deeper than expected. but what irked you most was that all he said was a simple maybe. how were you suppose to respond to that?

awkwardness lingered in the air as you stayed silent after him. not knowing what or how to answer to his "maybe".

you just wished time would pass by faster. and that he'd forget how embarrassing that was.

a few weeks had passed, and you've made zero progress on becoming his friend.

you've tried multiple tactics that usually and mostly work 90% of the time with other people! asking for a pencil, asking for the time, peeking through his notebook or even just small talk. but most of them ended up in him just simply giving you what you've asked for with no words leaving his mouth, and some just a singular word. you were starting to think he had bad breath and was afraid of people smelling it!

later on in mathematics, mrs. choi announced a partner project due in a few weeks, unfortunately, even though you were liked by everyone and friends with everyone, no one really was your bestfriend, you're everyone's friend but not the first. which hurts at times, but it's okay, right?

you scanned the room, seeing everyone had picked their partners already. leaving you, alone, and partnerless.

you cleaned out your locker for the day, still frustrated by the fact you have no partner. when an idea pops in your head, surely, riki has no partner!

even when you wanted to be his friend, you kind of hoped he wasn't going to be your partner, right now, he probably considers you a complete stranger! and you thought he wouldn't help at all.

you scurried your way to the classroom to find him doodling in his notebook, you saw his drawings before and you were quite impressed. this wasn't anything unlike it.

you breathed, just finally getting the courage to ask, “riki? hello, uhm. do you have a partner for the math project? I don't really have some close friends and some of the others already have one.. so I'm thinking of maybe pairing up with you?”

he looked up at you, his face wasn't mean, nor was it nice. it just looked.. neutral.

“you don't have anyone else to ask?” he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

that's the most words you've gotten from him, you started to doubt if he could even form sentences. “well, if you don't want to it's okay, I'll just find somebody els—”

“I'm okay with it,”

you blinked. a lot of times. did you hear him correctly? he agreed to be paired with you?

“you're.. serious?”

he turned his head, confused. “why?”

“really? like you're actually serious? you're gonna help me and not bail on me?” your lips were starting to curve into a smile, you never thought he was going to be this easy to convince.

“yeah,”

you smiled, “that's great! thank you, I thought you wouldn't want to be paired with me, but here you are. can I have your number? so I can update you on where and when we're going to start.”

he hesitated, he really didn't like giving his number to anyone. he never did. but it was for school purposes. he had no choice.

he wrote his number on a paper and gave it to you, he saw your smile, grinning ear-to-ear. he wondered why it was such a big deal to you. and why you're that happy. it made him confused. and probably a little happy weirded out.

“alright, I'll text you later, riki!” you said as you left along with your bag, the yellow keychain dangling.

“mhm,” he hummed. his pupils watching your figure leave.

you made it back home with anticipation and excitement, maybe you'll actually succeed in your little mission: making him your friend.

© work of saoirsezz | sho

SHO'S NOTE. Idk when I'll be able to post part 2 because I'm busy this week, but I'll try :')

[zzzssleeping]

The Other Swan

Emmett C. x male reader

Bella Swan's unexpected older brother visits and discovers he's soulmates with a vampire.

Fluff, attempted humor, ooc Bella, part two

Forks was an interesting place, just not one (Y/n) had ever expected to visit, let alone stay in. The town was constantly gloomy, the sky perpetually overcast with thick clouds threatening rain. Not that he minded. He actually liked the rain, something about it felt peaceful, but he would’ve preferred somewhere livelier, with more sun and towering buildings. More like a city than a town.

Still, he couldn't complain too much. Being here meant spending time with Bella, and really, who else was going to annoy her? It must’ve been dull without his usual antics. Though, judging by their phone calls, she had found a new distraction, some guy named Eddie? Or was it Edward? Honestly, (Y/n) hadn’t been paying attention.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strolled through the hallways of Forks High, catching curious glances from students who clearly weren’t used to seeing a new face. Unlike Bella, who preferred to keep to herself, (Y/n) naturally attracted attention wherever he went. He didn't mind. Flashing an easygoing grin, he waved at a few people before spotting his sister, well, the back of her head, sitting at a lunch table. Surprisingly, she wasn’t alone. So, she actually had friends here.

A mischievous smirk crossed his face. Time for a proper sibling reunion.

Light on his feet, he crept up behind her, ignoring the confused glances from the people nearby. A blonde girl at the table opened her mouth, about to say something, probably to warn Bella, except, it was too late when (Y/n) jabbed his fingers into her sides, earning an immediate yelp as she nearly jumped out of her seat. His familiar laughter rang through the cafeteria, turning more heads than necessary.

Bella spun around, her face already flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my God, are you serious?"

(Y/n) grinned wider. "Nice seeing you, little sis."

The cafeteria buzzed with quiet murmurs, but (Y/n) barely noticed. He was too busy enjoying Bella’s glare and the reactions of her friends, some looked both relieved and amused.

Forks might not have been his kind of town, but messing with Bella? That never got old.

"Wait, sis?" A girl with glasses muttered, glancing between the two siblings as if trying to spot the resemblance. "Yeah," Bella confirmed with a nod, scooting over to make room for him. Though she didn’t look particularly thrilled, she was happy to see him, it was just complicated. Having (Y/n) around meant constant teasing, something she’d endured since childhood, and way more than she would’ve liked. "The better Swan, actually," he added with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows. Jessica giggled, while Bella shot him a deadpan look before stepping down hard on his foot.

"Ow!" He yelped, jerking away with an exaggerated huff. Scooting a safe distance from her, he gave an overly dramatic glare. "After all this time, this is how you treat me?"

"We haven’t seen each other in weeks."

"Exactly! It’s been too long!"

Bella rolled her eyes. She was already used to his antics. The two of them were complete opposites, from their music tastes to their favorite movies, yet somehow, their differences made them closer. Still, like any siblings, they took every opportunity to poke fun at each other. It couldn’t be helped.

"So," (Y/n) spoke up, glancing around the table, "who’s this Eddie guy you keep talking about?" A few of Bella’s friends chuckled, while she shot him a knowing look. "His name is Edward," she corrected immediately, bracing herself for whatever nonsense he was about to say next. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. "Edward? Seriously?" Just from the name alone, the guy sounded ancient. "What year is he from, the 1950s?" He wasn’t judging people named Edward or anything, it just wasn’t what he expected.

Bella sighs, already regretting letting him sit with them.

"Can you not like-judge him for one second? You haven't even met him," Bella complained, exasperation clear in her voice. She wished, for once, he would take something seriously. (Y/n) raised his hands in a mock of surrender, eyebrows lifting. "Woah...easy there. I'm just giving my opinion. As an older brother, it's my duty to make sure he's not going to, I don't know...suck your blood or something." She let out a nervous chuckle, having her hand change into a fist. If only he knew. Thankfully, (Y/n) could be incredibly oblivious at times, one of the few things working in her favor right now.

"Funny," she said, forcing a smile, "but no. I can handle myself. Just give him a chance, okay?" She grabbed his arm, tugging him lightly back and forth, hoping to wear him down. As much as she hated him to admit it, she did look up to him sometimes. And this? This was important. Edward was her forever, and (Y/n) was one of the most important people in her life. If they didn't get along...well, she really didn't want to think about that right now.

"If it helps, he's really cute," Jessica chimed in mid-conversation, making heads turn her way while Angela couldn't help but nod with agreement.

"What?" She defended at her stares. "It's true."

(Y/n) groaned, running a hand through his hair as he weighted his options, he never imagined his sister having a boyfriend before him, the better looking sibling. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, he shrugged. "Okay, fine-but if he tries anything funny, I'll kick him where the sun don't shine."

As the days passed, the inevitable moment finally arrived. And, of course, (Y/n) spent the entire car ride complaining. "Why do I have to meet his whole family? Am I the one dating him?" He grumbled, arms crossed. Bella pressed her lips together, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "(Y/n)-"

"I should’ve just stayed home."

She inhaled sharply, willing herself to stay calm. Just a little longer. Thankfully, they pulled up to the Cullens’ house before she completely lost her patience and threw him out onto the street. Not that she would, Edward was already waiting for them, and she wasn’t about to test her boyfriend’s vampire speed over a sibling squabble. As soon as he stepped out of the truck and shut the door, his eyes widened at the mansion before him.

"Okay…this is a house?" He blinked, taking in the modern glass walls and pristine architecture.

"This looks like a place I’d get kicked out of just for breathing too loud." Bella rolled her eyes as he muttered to himself. "Since they look rich…does Edward have a brother?" She groaned, already feeling secondhand embarrassment. Not because of what he said, she was used to his ongoing rambling, but because she knew the Cullens could hear everything. Thankfully, she’d warned Edward about (Y/n)’s blunt honesty and zero filter, especially around people he barely meets for the first time.

"Can you not embarrass me?" She pleaded.

(Y/n) merely shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "No promises."

Bella stood there nervously as the door opened before she could even knock, no doubt thanks to their heightened hearing. A dark-haired woman stood in the entryway, immediately offering a warm smile.

"Hello, glad to see you made it safely. Please, come in."

(Y/n) hesitated for a second. He hadn’t expected such immediate warmth, especially not from someone this stunning. Esme was...well, intimidatingly beautiful. He nodded stiffly, suddenly aware of how out of place he felt in such a pristine home. Standing beside her was an equally attractive man, and (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a little weirded out. The Cullens were all too good-looking, like they belonged in a high-end fashion ad rather than a small-town house. They almost didn’t seem real.

"This is my husband, Carlisle," Esme introduced, gesturing toward him. "And I’m Esme." With that, she turned gracefully toward the kitchen, the click of her heels echoing in the quiet space. "I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs." As soon as her back was turned, (Y/n) leaned toward Bella, mouthing silently: They're gorgeous.

Bella rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, Edward approached, his dark gaze drifting toward the other Swan sibling, raising his hand for a handshake.

"Hello, you must be (Y/n). Your sister has mentioned some…nice things about you." (Y/n) narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly suspicious, he did admit that he too were similar to his parents. He finally took his hand, shaking it lightly. "Did she tell you to say that, or did she secretly complain about me? Blink twice if you’re being held captive." Bella wanted to slap him across the face as Edward’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, at the sight of seeing his lover so irritated, he did enjoy their unusual conversations on call.

Wanting to push further until the sound of light footsteps caught his attention. He turned his head just in time to see a petite girl, around their age with good fashion style, practically skipping toward them while dragging along a tall, tense-looking blonde. Alice beamed. "I’ve been dying to meet you! So, you’re the troublemaker Bella keeps telling me about."

(Y/n) barely had time to react before she grabbed his hands, giggling. The sudden touch caught him off guard, but he brushed it off, flashing a proud grin. "The one and only." Over her shoulder, he caught sight of her companion, Jasper, if he remembered correctly. The guy stood a few feet away, looking tense, like he was trying really hard not to be there. (Y/n) frowned slightly. "Uh…is your boyfriend okay?" He asked Alice, lowering his voice. "No offense, but he kinda looks like he’s in pain."

Esme let out a small laugh from the kitchen, clearly entertained. Alice, however, just grinned. Before she could answer, someone else cut in.

"Nah, it’s fine. He’s always like that."

The voice was deep, laced with amusement, and it sent an unexpected shiver down (Y/n)’s spine. He turned, and immediately froze. Golden eyes met his, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, he felt his mind go blank. His chest tightened, his heart fluttering in a way he definitely wasn’t prepared for. For the first time in his life, the always obnoxious Swan was completely, utterly speechless.

Holy shit.

[sunshinemoonrx]

Hey There Sure Was A Lot Of International Espionage In The Funny Car Robot Show

AKA Boonboomger overall thoughts!

...it was kind of a weird one?

Like, odd helmet designs aside, when it was first coming out the main reaction was "oh hey, a relatively normal sentai after a few years of out-there experiments". And then it...kind of was that, and kind of wasn't? Compared to an anniversary season where 4 rangers are suit characters, Toshiki Inoue's 50 episode dick smasher, and 2.5D soundstage romance of the three kingdoms for baby, it is much more like a normal sentai.

But then the second half of this show ostensibly about a bunch of racing car drivers fighting a bunch of evil racing car drivers is increasingly about even the ostensibly benevolent powerful in society's willingness to collaborate with evil to squeeze more out of the people, and our heroes fighting the police, the government and major corporations, all while, let's not forget, still fighting the main threat this is all revolving around, which is gay alien Michael Jackson and his gang of evil racing car drivers (although to be fair, none of this would be out of place in a Fast & Furious movie at this point).

This is...more cohesive than it should be--at least, as a tokusatsu fan, I'm more than the usual level of primed to expect serious pathos from a silly car robot named Boondorio Boomderas--but I definitely was more excited about the show early on when it was in full silly baby chaos show mode than later on, as much as I think it's extremely sick when your sixth ranger is dropkicking SWAT guys. But that might be less to do with the tone change itself and more character-related?

Like, I see what they were going for with Taiya. He's kind of aloof and catty but with a heart of gold, he's got this unconventional hands-off leadership style where he gives his team a lot of independence and freedom...but they needed to go way harder on either the aloof bitchiness or the supportiveness because it all ends up a bit weak and muddled. He never gets close to the full potential of a tsun hero who needs to open up a bit more because he's also, like, an angelic friend to all children; and if he's just nice with a little sarcastic/soft-spoken tinge...look, the whole "supporting his team by being hands-off and subtly doing things for them in the background while letting them run free" idea is inherently harder to do in a show of this level of writing complexity (low!) than just, you know, showing he cares by having him obviously do things for them, and support them, and be there for them, and not just sorta stroll in at the end like ah! it all worked out just like I thought! sorry I was busy cranking it

So, I enjoyed the early episodes where he was still just kind of a funny weird cat, and equally Mira was so much fun early on. She was doing all kinds of genki red ranger bits, making weird noises, bashing things with the wrong end of the sword, loved all that. And she didn't stop being like that later on, but that stuff felt kinda crowded out by the plot and (relatively) more serious tone, so she just becomes more generically peppy. I think another thing that made it hard for them to pull off the serious stuff is. okay. this might sound like nitpicking, but the "having your own hands on your own steering wheel" metaphor catchphrase thing. I get it, I get what it means, it's a theme, it's cool. but it's kind of long enough that it's not just a word you flexibly throw into a sentence, it becomes the whole sentence, so now when you're trying to recall iconic lines and moments, half of them are just "the time they dramatically said 'I've got my hands on my wheel now'", and it becomes hard to distinguish between them. Scale it back a bit!

With all that SAID I still happily tuned in every week. Even if it was a bit less dynamically rocket-powered, I still like when we're fighting the government. I love Robot Team Rocket (I love Yarucar being a little toy they wiggle around to emote for dialogue so much), I love the world's most pathetically whipped househusband blue ranger, I love all the yaoi between cars, I love the robotfucker secret agent, I love the funny ending dance.

So yeah! It's pretty good! I liked it! But either I think they could have thought out a couple elements better to make it really support the epic serious plot stuff, or those could have not been such an issue if they just went full-on for being funny silly antics car show of all time.

oh yeah hey what was up with the literal plastic disco ball taiya dug out of the ground that was the manifestation of the earth's energy or whatever

[heretyc]

Outlast Characters On Your Birthday

It's my 23rd birthday today so I thought I'd release something for everybody! Enjoy 🥳🎂🍰 Have a slice on me! [Also, a debate: best flavour of cake? Tuxedo and strawberry shortcake always take the cake for me, wink wink]

Miles and Waylon both throw you a party; the only difference is Miles includes alcohol [assuming you're of age] and Waylon prefers there be sweets and milkshakes. Miles will throw you a surprise party whereas Waylon will ask you what you'd like at your party. Guests, decorations...all up to you.

Miles gives you something comedic or something useful, like a harmonica or a comb with a blade in it. Never know when you have to comb and jab, y'know?

Waylon prefers wholesome things. You know how he is. Or self defense gear.

Jeremy, the bastard, goes all out for it; if you want, he'll bring you to Murkoff and the entire staff can celebrate. Hell, the variants, too! How funny would it be to experiment on variants wearing party hats?? [Not...very funny, but Jeremy has an odd sense of humour.] Because Richard and Jeremy are close, Richard gets you a present. What's inside is up to you. [It may be phallic or just a new wallet or something.]

Trager's not a party kind of feller, so he'll throw you a small party in his office and tell you "me not cutting your fingers off is a gift, sweetheart".

Just kidding, he buys you anything you ask for. He's not fond of surprises, so he'll straight up just go to you and ask you, outright, what you'd like. He gets you two shirts: his says "I love to finger paint" and your shirt says "I'm paint".

He thinks he's funny, please just laugh and get it over with.

Chris is a total sweetiepie and he makes the cake himself [if he's able]. He remembers the subtle details of your interests and he'll know exactly what to get you. One of which being matching sweaters with cats and dogs on them.

Eddie is a master of party throwing and this is a hill I'll die on; he'll buy wine, cheese, gifts and toss in some handmade works of his. He loves to bake, and despite a few failures - and a hole in the wall - he's more than happy to celebrate your day of birth by making you a homemade cake!

Walrider steals a guy, steals a car, drives to Walmart and brings you just about any expensive gift he can grab. You didn't NEED an airfryer, but...the effort he put into his theft was too much to ignore. He purrs when you put chicken strips inside of your new airfryer.

Knoth gives you a bible about himself and tells you stories about how big his penis is. That's...that's as much as you're going to get. I see why Val left. He'll also ask you to convert, seeing as how "God is your birthday gift". No thanks.

Marta's fond of flowers, so expect a bouquet as well as a rosary. She's not as forceful as Knoth is [unless directly told to be], so the rosary is moreso a suggestion to convert.

Val surprises you with heretics, fire, bodies and sex. And more sex. And sex 24/7 7 days a week, no holiday breaks. Jokes aside - or are they jokes? - they'll ask a Heretic to steal something from Knoth to give to you. That, or they'll deceive a delivery boy into getting you something from the outside world. It might be just a small Snickers bar or a bottle of penicillin, but it still means a lot. Val can't really bake considering their circumstances, but they'll try and get you something sweet if all else fails. Coyle thinks his loyalty and his protection of you is a gift, there's no party necessary. That's all you can ask for, right? But he'll grumble about how "greed like yours is what collapses a respectful nation" and try to get you something. Expect something like a necklace or handcuffs. Maybe he'll even set up a few mannequins in a circle to celebrate your special day with cop hats in place of party hats.

Gooseberry is obsessed with gift giving and party throwing, so the entire theme park is completely yours to enjoy for one trial. No ex-pops, just her, you and Dr Futterman. Futterman is just glad you're not ruining his daughter's time as she works away in the Root Canal. Franco loves parties, especially if he throws them! Mainly because his parties are full of sex, booze, drugs and murder. But for you, doll? He'll make an exception...he'll ask the staff to make you a cake and serve it to you himself. Easterman makes sure you're given a day to yourself. Cake, gifts and naps. What more can you ask for? He can't show favouritism, letting you out would be unfair to the other patients, but this is enough.

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day ten: love at first sight

ᰔ pairing: frankie 'catfish' morales x reader

ᰔ summary: a special delivery for the catfish, in the form of heart cookies— and a baby's nap interrupted.

ᰔ author's note: short and sweet, grammy award winning album AND the essence of this little ficlet. i just watched triple frontier so i'm still getting used to frankie's character and how to write him. please let me know how i can improve/thoughts/constructive criticism!!! i hope y'all enjoy :)

ᰔ content warning: frankie being a single father, fluff, domestic situation, baby warning

You counted the heart cookies on the plate one last time before you finally wrapped the whole thing in saran wrap. It had been the tenth set you had made over the course of the night, and well into the morning.

Now, you were able to look at the labor of love you had created.

Ha. A labor of love to make enough cookies for the entire neighborhood. You weren't able to just go the easy route— stop at the local grocery store and buy cookies already baked. Instead, you were determined to make raspberry jam shortbread cookies, all heart shaped and dusted with sugar.

As you said every year, you were definitely buying store-bought treats next year. You weren't doing this to yourself again.

You loaded up the plates into a wagon you used for your gardening supplies. Once they were loaded up, you set off down the sidewalk to your immediate neighbor's house. A sweet older couple you made plenty of meals for.

Everyone had been kind, so touched by the notion of you baking for them. The entire route had taken you longer than you expected, considering everyone had invited you in for coffee and a cookie.

Before the final stop, you dropped off the wagon at the house before you continued to the end of the street. It was much easier to carry a plate than lug the wagon around.

You hadn't met the new neighbor yet. From what you had gathered throughout the morning, he was a veteran and a father. All you knew was there was a single truck parked in the driveway, but you didn't think much of it.

With the plate of cookies in one hand, you knocked on the front door with the other. There was silence before you heard a cry.

Shit.

By the time the door opened, your expression was full of regret. You gave an apologetic smile to the man, who held a crying baby in his arms.

"Hi. I– I am so sorry for causing this commotion," you apologized. "Can I help?" You nodded to the baby; you were eager to right what you had wronged.

The man, obviously flustered and a bit agitated, looked from the cookie platter to you. He blinked as he looked your face over. Once he realized you were waiting for an answer, he nodded once.

"Here, may I?" You held the plate out to him, your other arm out to take the baby. There was a moment of hesitation before he handed his daughter over.

As soon as the baby was safely in your arms, you worked your magic. Within minutes, she stared at you wide eyed, a bit amazed at the faces you made. It had been something you tucked under your belt when looking after some of the other kids in the neighborhood. Worked like a charm every time.

You glanced up the man and chuckled. He looked just as amazed as the baby did, his eyes right on you. You told him your name and held out a hand.

"I'm sorry for waking her up," you apologized. "I brought by the cookies as a little Valentine's Day treat. Every year, I bake cookies and bring them to every house in the neighborhood."

"Frankie," he finally sputtered out after a beat. "That— that's real sweet. Seems everyone in the neighborhood is kind, from what I've witnessed." He looked to his daughter, who had slumped herself against you. She was already falling asleep again.

"They're good people," you assured him. "We try to help each other out. Be a shoulder to lean on." You glanced down at the weight on your shoulder. The baby was wiped herself out as you swayed in your spot.

"I can see that," Frankie chuckled. He tried to take her back, but she whined and buried her face in your sweater. You hushed her, rubbing her back to help her settle again.

"I'm sure she'll be ready to move in a minute," you assured him.

Frankie watched how easily you took to his daughter, the way you held her close without a second thought. It went against his better judgment, just handing the baby over without so much as an introduction.

Then again, Frankie wasn't always known for his best judgment.

"Would you like to come in? Please," he offered. He stepped to the side and opened the door wider for you.

Part of the offer was to make it easier to transition his daughter to her crib, and finally put her down for the morning nap she had been fighting. The other part of him wasn't ready for you to leave. He wanted to find any excuse he could to talk to you, even if it was something as dull as the weather.

"You don't mind?" You asked as you stepped through the doorway. While you had been in many of your neighbors' homes, this time felt different.

"Not at all."

This Frankie guy threw your mind for a loop. You didn't believe in love at first sight, but maybe you were wrong. Whether it was love, or a stint of infatuation, you didn't care. You didn't have anything to lose, which meant you had everything to gain.

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #5 - CoimbraBertone and the Indiana Jones Blogpost.

So, I watched the first three Indiana Jones movies for the first time these last few weeks. Those being Raiders of the Lost Ark, Temple of Doom, and The Last Crusade. Also, before that, I was watching my friend Andy play through the video game, Indiana Jones and the Great Circle. I have thoughts.

Plus, the Super Bowl was last weekend and that's kinda an unavoidable black hole devouring anything else that could've happened that weekend, so there isn't much racing news to discuss right now.

Indycar aired some commercials during it which hopefully draw people in, but until we get to St. Pete for the first race, it's hard to say how effective they were.

So, onto Indiana Jones.

I liked them. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Last Crusade are both great movies, Temple of Doom isn't as good, but it still has plenty of iconic moments and I enjoyed it well enough.

My first impression was honestly...wow, I've seen so much references to this stuff. Like there were moments I knew were from Indiana Jones, like the giant boulder chasing Indy, opening the Ark and it melting the Nazi faces, and the minecart chase from Temple, but there other things I didn't realize.

Like in Family Guy, Road to Germany, they do the whole escape the plane in a raft thing, with Stewie even making fun of one of Willie's lines. I didn't know that was from Indiana Jones. The motorcycle chase in that episode is probably a reference to Last Crusade as well, albeit a bit less 1 to 1.

So yeah, iconic movies that I've seen referenced a lot, and now I finally understand those references.

So, Raiders of the Lost Ark...

I liked Belloq as a villain. His Egypt clothes with the way his hair looked kept making me think of Alain Prost even though objectively he doesn't look all that much like Prost, but there's where my brain went. I like that he's a different kind of evil than the Nazis around him - he doesn't have a cause, he's just self-interested and wants to get one over on Jones - but he is still very much evil.

Toht is another fun character because he's just so ridiculous. The coat hanger scene made me burst out laughing.

Colonel Dietrich is probably the flattest of the villains, but I get that they needed more of a straight-up Wehrmacht guy to be the direct threat that neither Belloq nor Toht could really be.

As for the heroic characters, I have to admit, with everything I heard about Marion from watching the game and reading up on the movies a bit, she is not at all what I was expecting. For some reason I kinda thought she was gonna be a non-action rich girl who is the daughter of a rich gentleman type - and in fairness, Ravenwood does seem like it would be an old money name - but instead she's a lot more of a rougher and more confrontational character.

And I suppose that is more interesting.

Sallah's fun, John-Rhys Davies has a great voice, and I was happy to see him back in Last Crusade.

Some of the effects are very dated and the sounds - especially the punch sounds - are as well, but it's an old movie so what are you gonna do? I accepted that as a relic of the time and enjoyed the movie in spite of that.

Something dated that's a bit harder to forgive is Temple of Doom.

Let's start with the positives: Lao Che's club is a lot of fun. I think his club is a reused set from Return of the Jedi because with how white and smooth it is, along with the seating bowl we see in one of the shots, it reminds me a lot of the Mon Calamari cruises from Episode VI. I could be wrong about that, but they were filmed a year apart and Lucas literally named it Club Obi-Wan, so I wouldn't be surprised at all if the whole thing is a redressed Star Wars set.

Willie's a bit grating. There's no way around that, I'm sorry.

Short Round though...yeah, he has a few annoying moments, but I actually found him endearing. The ways that he looks up and mimics Indy - sorry, Dr. Jones - are fun, and it's nice to see Indy cares about him too.

The portrayal of India though...oof.

Spielberg and Lucas have apparently said that the whole dinner scene with the eels and eyeballs and monkey brains and all that is supposed to be a ploy to scare off Indy and the British officer dude, but...they did not do a good job of conveying that at all. It just feels like over the top orientalism.

Same thing with the Thuggee cult in general. Mola Ram's costume is all over the place and with his skull helmet off, that red paint on his forehead feels a lot more like the other type of Indian. It's like a storm of foreign culture cliches thrown together at random and it's pretty damn jarring. They even got the Maharaja torturing Indy with a voodoo doll which...okay then, I guess we really are just throwing anything and everything at this, huh?

From what I understand their portrayal of Kali is also completely off.

There's also a lot of brown face in that movie. The late Pat Roach was playing the slavemaster, for instance.

Then making the British Army show up at the end to save Indy & co...sheesh. No wonder this movie got banned in India for awhile.

Still, if you can get past all that and see it as a product of its time, it's a fun enough movie. It's the weakest of the trilogy though.

Onto Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

Harrison Ford and Sean Connery, what else do you need?

No seriously, that's it. It's good, watch it.

...

...

...

Okay fine, I'll talk about it.

I like this one a lot. I know Raiders is the classic one that everyone loves, but this one might be my favorite.

Venice, Austria, Berlin, Antioch, down to Petra in Jordan...it's a lot of fun set locations and set pieces. I really enjoyed Elsa as the "Indy girl" of this movie, I really enjoyed the banter back and forth between Henry Sr. and Indiana, and I think the Nazis in this movie are just great antagonists.

They look evil as fuck, they have the Hugo Boss fit on fleek, Vogel is a great villain, the modified World War I tank was a great set piece, and we have plenty of old car porn in this one - particularly the old Rolls Royce, which is not, in fact, a Phantom II - so what's not to like?

Well, Donovan probably goes down a bit too easy. I know that these movies are big on the whole villains are destroyed for trying to harness a power they cannot understand, but he does die pretty quickly and pretty stupidly. I guess the Vogel fight was pretty long, so a long Donovan fight probably would've bogged the ending down a lot, but it was a bit disappointing to see him easily duped into killing himself.

Elsa's end, meanwhile, i thought was fitting. She couldn't let go of her obsession, and in the end, the grail's spell got to her. It almost got to Indy too, but then Henry gave him the fatherly love which is what he really wanted. And yeah, that's a bit schlocky, but who cares? it's nice and meaningful.

So yeah, none of them are perfect movies, but I enjoyed them a lot.

The Great Circle fits in among the movies quite nicely, I think. Gina fits as another "Indy girl" and is probably my favorite when adding her in to the classic movies, and Troy Baker does such a great job as Indy that even Harrison Ford gave him his blessing.

Plus ending on karate fighting a Nazi on the top of Noah's Ark is exactly the type of goofy shit these movies would come up with and I mean that in the best way possible.

Oh, one other thing I wanted to yap about: there are a lot of scenes in these movies where the guns are very clearly not firing anything, and again, I get it, old movie, but wow, sometimes it's really obvious. There was a bit in Last Crusade where Indy thrashed around an MP40 that wasn't doing anything, and it straight up took me a second to realize they were trying to show him shooting.

Old movies gonna old movie.

I'm gonna watch the next two movies soon, probably this week, but from what I hear, they're not quite up to snuff. Let me know if you guys want my thoughts, otherwise, this is probably gonna be the last Offtopic Offseason for awhile because it's the Daytona 500 this weekend. They'll be a NASCAR race every weekend from now until November, and once NASCAR starts, the likes of MotoGP, F1, and Indycar aren't far behind.

Looking forward to the Henry Jones Jr.polis 500.

[fascinationstreetmp3]

What if...what if past dm didn't happen. How do you see it playing out? And actually give your two cents about danlou too plz. Cause sometimes I think he is the devil ( angel) to Daniel's minion. Idk if that makes sense?

admittedly it sometimes is difficult for me to shut off my "past dm definitely happened" thinking because im just so certain there are too many hints that it did LOL but...

for armand, there's this boy he wrote off in 1973, who he maybe genuinely couldn't find anything "fascinating" or extraordinary about, who he has perhaps been underestimating this whole time in 2022— i could see him realising that now daniel is truly sharp-minded and ruthless, with none of the attempts to knock him off balance really working, and he's figured out so much in such a short space of time and ultimately gotten the truth (and a little revenge) he was after in the end. there's something very intriguing in that, despite the anger he feels that daniel took everything from him.

maybe turning him could feel like a punishment to armand (even though i think daniel did want to be a vampire by that point, armand might not realise that. and it could also be a form of punishment for louis, taking away daniel's humanity in a perversion of letting him live for louis in 1973), but maybe it's also subconsciously a way of keeping around someone who has figured him out and seen him so quickly, even if that is something he runs from.

for daniel, i think everything that went down in dubai sort of "woke him up." when we first see him, he looks bored, tired, and lonely. he barely talks to his family, only enough for them to know he's sick, and he's teaching internet classes now. the pandemic has kept him away from the world but it also feels like the passion has seeped out of him long before that. at this point he's expecting to die someday soon and leave his daughters some cash. being invited for a second interview with louis doesn't immediately break him out of that mindset; it's invigorated him some by the end of the first season, but once there's an even bigger mystery to crack after armand reveals himself, that's when he really starts enjoying himself.

by the end of season 2, daniel is so far in it he doesn't want it to stop, chasing a high. and for that reason, even if the turning was "spiteful" on armand's part, i think daniel would've wanted to be turned either way. just like daniel in the books, he can't go back to an ordinary life and function normally or sit around waiting to die after being so involved in this world. armand gives it to him in some form— but daniel wants more, he wants answers and a story from armand, he wants to crack the truth about him and figure out "where the bullshit starts." so he chases after him when armand leaves, and it turns into an inverse of their original chase in the books:

the highlighted lines could actually actually work in reverse in this scenario too— daniel wants to know what makes armand so fascinating, wants to know what and who he really is. even down to daniel himself not being able to move about by day now when armand can. and as the chase goes on, they learn more about one another, becoming drawn to each other despite the animosity between them.

as for the second part of your question, do you mean danlou kind of acting as the show's version of devil's minion? or their relationship being more similar to what armand and daniel's is in the books? i see danlou as something unique, and especially if there was any kind of past dm, i don't know that louis would be directly involved— in the sense that i believe he wouldn't be happy to fuck with this kid's life even further than he already did, with the "think of me as god or an angel" speech he gave trying to set daniel free from everything he'd seen and heard from armand. even if louis doesn't really care as much about humanity in general as he sometimes claims, daniel is a symbol of something to louis, proof he can still do good.

whereas with armand, no matter what love was there, dm is ultimately about keeping daniel embroiled in that life. armand shares his blood and lets daniel get addicted to it, and it slowly breaks daniel apart until he's losing his mind.

like you said, louis is more the "angel" where armand's the "devil." in a past dm scenario i actually think it's possible the words louis speaks to daniel in 1973 could be something that helps daniel towards the end of his relationship with armand in the 80s ("if things ever get bad again," "these words will hold you up and carry you; they are your lifeline") and could be what led to him finally breaking free of armand and maybe asking to be "let go" if he really won't ever turn him.

but to me whether past dm happened or not, danlou is about daniel being the first person in a long time to listen to louis both in 1973 and 2022, louis changing and saving daniel's life in a way no one else ever did, and daniel coming back 50 years later and eventually returning the favour. they're both fathers to daughters, they've both repressed themselves in various ways, they've both had their memories messed with by armand.

they're the vampire and the interviewer who kick off the whole story being told, and i think the show portrays that very well, keeping them (and hopefully their relationship) relevant going forward and expanding on their relationship with each other in a way the books never did, and not really borrowing any dynamic from dm or anyone else. armand of course hangs over them both, the same way louis hangs over dm, the same way daniel factors into loumand in 1973 and 2022, and they're all important to each other for different reasons.

[llamagoddessofficial]

It was the best hidden room in his castle.

Nightmare appeared, emerging from within the liquid shadows at the far corner, taking on a solid form. The room had no doors- that was the trick to it. Only a being who already knew the room’s location in the castle, and had the ability to transport themselves through space, would be capable of accessing this place.

... Though there was no door, there was a window. Just one. A circular skylight, directly above the bed... it gave a perfect view of the stars.

It was a small, comfortable chamber, the obsidian walls draped with finely embroidered midnight blue tapestries to maintain warmth. Ancient murals, moons and interlocking patterns that had long lost their meaning, inlaid with silver- the silver caught the light from the small glowing blue stones that dotted the walls. The room was barely brighter than a dim twilight. 

Of course... the most important thing in the whole room was what was at the centre.

... Nightmare approached your bed.

A fine bed, of course. A large canopy draped luxuriously, for even more warmth, protection and quiet. Only the best for you. You were tucked under sumptuous sheets, your head upon a satin pillow, sweet little face barely visible under all the layers of comfort.

... He reached out, tucking the blanket down slightly, to get a better look at you. You were so peaceful. Your cheeks had regained some colour, over the past few days, as had your lips- but your eyelids did not move.

He knew what it looked like. If his damned brother found this room, and the sleeping human, he’d jump to conclusions (as he always did); Nightmare had stolen a human, cursed them with eternal sleep. Worst case scenario, Nightmare was tormenting this human as a sick game- best case scenario, Nightmare has grown so feverishly attached he would rather have someone sleep in his arms forever than be free to walk away from him.

...

And... well. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t enjoying having you this way. But it was missing one crucial detail.

... You would wake up the moment you wanted to.

He sat on the bed, beside you. He reached out, and gently stroked your hair... enjoying the softness and texture.

You didn’t stir.

Nightmare had felt your pain far across your universe. Like a moth to a flame, he came to you- and though he originally had only the intent to feed, he loved you the moment he laid eyes on you. Your Soul, such a pretty thing, cracking under the weight of its pain; the fractures sparkled like fault lines in a diamond. You were holding the agony within, unwilling to let anyone know. You were on the verge of shattering. On the verge of your Soul going out.

When he came for you, you didn’t protest, you didn't even struggle.

You had looked at him with an empty, accepting expression.

Perhaps you thought he was death? Cute.

... So he took you, instead. You let him put his arms around you- he had never had someone accept him so completely, his jealous desire only intensified. He carried you back to his palace, he cradled you lovingly. Once your eyes had closed, he laid you down in the quietest room, in his finest bed... cuddled under his softest sheets and guarded by his most possessive magic.

The spell in question was one he hadn’t used in a long, long time. There was nothing on any Earth that could forcibly awaken you from your slumber. No sound, no touch, no pain nor magic. No power he (or any other great being) possessed, nothing in the wide multiverse. Nothing could awaken you from the outside.

But... the moment you wanted to open your eyes, you would. The tail of the Rupert’s drop. As if waking from a pleasant midday nap, the spell would shatter into dust around you.

It was a one-way spell. That was what made it so powerful.

... He continued to stroke your hair. Your dreams were safety- he ensured nothing crossed your mind but visions of peace and warmth. You curled deeper into his dreams like a hibernating rabbit. He could sense the injuries in your slowly Soul mending, your wounds slowly healing, as you were finally allowed to rest.

You had yet to even think of opening your eyes.

At that moment, the moon emerged. Its light passed through the skylight window... catching a small array of crystals that hung above your bed. Flecks of iridescence silently scattered across the walls, and over your face. 

“... beautiful.” He murmured. “no one will ever hurt you again, my darling. no one. i promise.”

...

... You, of course... did not even stir.

[souenkun]

Pokémon Masters EX spoilers ahead!

Kabu likes to play TAG with his pokemon... and he's shown to have a much softer side beneath his strictness in pokemas too... he's so grandpa-shaped to me 😭💖

[libraryleopard]

Adult science fiction standalone novel

In near-future America, struggling documentary filmmaker Hayes Figuerido learns that an alternate version of himself from a parallel universe created the Envisioner, a device that can predict the future, and sent it to his reality

When he joins a team of scientists studying the Envisioner, Hayes meets physicist Yusuf and learns the two of them are married in another universe and finds himself falling for Yusuf in this one

As Hayes learns more about the multiverse, however, it becomes clear that while their lives are inextricably linked, their story often ends in tragedy and saving Yusuf could risk the univerise

Explores multiverse theory and questions of how far you will go to save the one you love

Gay main character with depression; Egyptian, Muslim love interest; M/M romance; aromantic asexual Japanese side character

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jmail wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"baby ,i care for you,, 2.6k words synopsis: caleb nurses you back to health contains: fluff! lads caleb x f!reader (caleb calls you "good girl" + "silly girl" x1) ,established relationship! ,just some self-indulgent fluffy sick comfort ,chef!caleb ,kind of stern!caleb (he's just worried) ,caleb makes u take medicine ,two suggestive jokes (cause its caleb) ,like one second of angst ,one single use of "gege" ,he carries you to the couch ,he pats your head/gives u a massage ,lulls you to sleep ,one head kiss ,i think thats it note: not proofread! its 5 in the morning when i post this so forgive any mistakes i just needed this out of my system i need him to take care of me so baaad :x enjoy

-

for some reason, you woke early for someone who didn't sleep till the late hours into the morning last night.

what you'd gotten couldn't even be considered proper sleep, more like just a nap, but somehow your body wasn't too keen on slipping back into the grips of slumber that easily.

and somehow, you woke up feeling even worse than you had for the past two days.

even if your sore throat was mostly gone, you heaved out a couple of dry coughs as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, shivering in the cold that surrounded the room (courtesy of your comfort, unable to sleep comfortably otherwise even if it worsened your current condition), and on top of that your head was softly throbbing. not wanting to deal with it, you decided to lay back completely to soothe the pain.

your nose was stuffy and runny at the same time, reaching for some tissues on the bedside table to wipe away at it, not before sneezing a couple of times and sniffling afterwards— it was so sensitive today for some reason.

you let out a deep sigh, soft breaths escaping from your mouth as you couldn't breathe comfortably from your nose.

how did it get worse? sure, you only took medicine once yesterday instead of every couple of hours like you were supposed to, but seriously, it was just a sore throat and a small fever!

you sighed, irritated that you were still sick. weren't you supposed to be the one with a good immune system? you and caleb often argued about it, and if he were here, he would surely use this as a point that his was better.

the yearning for his presence bit into the silence of the room as you laid comfortably on your back, shutting your eyes once again as your shallow breaths evened out.

you thought about getting up, washing your face and then making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, and then something to eat so that you could take your medicine and then proceed to rest- something caleb would already be doing for you the moment he'd realize you were sick.

but he wasn't here right now, and even though you'd seen his moments posts about being out with friends, you had no plan to worry him when this was just a little cold.

you thought about it- you were hungry after all, and you wanted something warm to soothe your throat, but just the idea of going all the way down and doing all of that at the moment in your state was tiring.

but, you had taken care of yourself for the past two days like this. what was another?

you opened your eyes, pulled yourself up with a groan, swung your legs over the edge of the bed to slip on your slippers, slipped on the closest sweater and slowly padded your way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for balance as your headache and sick haze had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

you washed up without much of a hitch, and when you exited the bathroom, you thought you heard a door close.

huh?

you thought it might be your mind playing tricks on you. after all, you were at home by yourself and weren't expecting anyone (even if you yearned for someone, the stray thought of him being here leaving you as soon as it came), and you couldn't think of anyone that would stop by on a random wednesday who also happened to have a key to your place.

you shook your head, pocketing your phone as you padded down the way towards the living room, pausing at the faint sound of the television being on- had you left it on?- before proceeding towards the kitchen.

you froze at the sound of light humming coming from your kitchen, feet subconsciously carrying your slightly swaying body closer at the pleasant smell of food wafting towards your nose, completely disregarding a certain bag laying at the end of the empty sofa.

your footsteps must've been heavier than you thought because before you could fully enter the kitchen, the person in question turned around, staring straight at you, spatula in his hand and smile stretching across his face.

"morning, sleepyhead."

you tilted your head.

"caleb?" you whispered.

"surprised?"

you took a few steps closer, heart pounding with excitement but managing to keep your distance due to your illness.

"what are you-"

"hey."

his playful smile quickly morphs into a look of concern as he studies your face, noticing your shallow breaths, quiet voice and slightly-swaying body.

"pipsqueak, are you sick?"

you jolt, looking off to the side.

"not really, its just—"

you startle at his free hand brushing your bangs from your head and resting on your forehead.

"hey! i don't have a fever, i'm fine—"

"your voice is mostly gone," he deadpans.

"that's—"

"how long have you been sick??" his look is full of concern, voice laced with worry.

"just the past two days.."

"two days? and you didn't think to tell me?"

"it was just a sore throat at first!"

"and you're telling me this is still just that?"

before you can answer you're interrupted, bringing up your sleeved arm up to cover the lower half of your face to sneeze twice into it before sniffling.

you put your sleeved arm down and sigh.

"bless you," he says, taking a once over if your state before placing a hand on your lower back.

"here, i made you breakfast, just- sit down, i'll get you everything."

"that's okay, i wanted to—"

"i have water ready for tea if that's what you're after, just sit down, i'll bring it to you."

he says it in a way that almost feels like he's scolding you, and you can't help but to obey and trudge over to the closest seat at the dining table, secretly grateful since your head was hurting more now.

you momentarily rest your head on the cool surface, missing the frown that adorns caleb's face at seeing you in such a weakened state.

he knew how prideful you were when it came to your wellbeing, and he also knew how, for as little as it happened, sick you got when you did succumb to illness.

luckily, from a surface level it didn't look too bad, and the duration wasn't anywhere near severe-level yet. he was sure it was something plenty of rest and medicine would help with.

which is when he vowed, while filling your plate and pouring the steaming water into your favorite mug with a green tea bag resting inside, that he would be the one to nurse you back to health himself.

just like he used to.

-

"that's way too many, caleb!"

"i'm not letting you leave until you take em' all."

"is this really necessary??"

"lingering sore throat, mild fever, headache, stuffy and runny nose, sneezing, dry cough. did i miss anything?"

"no.."

"then yes, this is all necessary. it's not even that much!"

"caleb, there's five different pills sitting in front of me. i am not swallowing all of that!"

"haven't you swallowed more than just this before?"

"caleb!"

you smack his arm and he lets out a hearty laugh— one that you're grateful to see (despite it being at your expense), given he's mostly been overcome with concern— before looking over the medicines again.

"fine, fine, here."

one hand drags an orange pill away towards him.

"how about now?"

you deadpan.

"you're joking, right?" you sniffle.

"that's the best i can do, pipsqueak. now hurry up and take them."

you let out a groan, but reach for the largest pill first.

"do i really—"

"yes," he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. "i won't say it again."

you sigh, taking a small sip of tea before slipping the pill between your lips, tipping your head back before taking multiple large gulps of your tea to help its descent.

caleb nods, uncurling his hands and reaching for his utensil to grab some rice.

"good girl, now eat some more and take the rest," he instructs, shoving the rice into his mouth.

you're about to speak but are interrupted by a small sneeze.

"bless you."

you pout at him.

he points to your plate with his chopsticks.

"eat."

"you're lucky your food is so good..." you trail off, shoveling some eggs into your mouth, delight quickly filling you at the flavor of such a simple food item.

the cycle repeats: caleb watching you take sips of your tea and shoveling small bites of food into your mouth before pushing the next pill towards you until they're all gone.

in no time at all, both of your plates are empty. he takes yours from in front of you as you sip on the remainder of your tea, nodding when he asks if you're finished before taking them away to the sink.

you watch as he rolls up his sleeves and makes quick work to wash the plates, utensils, and the kitchenware he'd used, mesmerized by the familiar movements but willing to watch again and again all the same.

once he was finished and the dishes were properly put away, he dries his hands, walking back over to you and feeling your forehead again.

"hmm.. not too warm. how are you feeling right now? are you cold?"

you nod your head, and he gently pats the top of it. you close your eyes in response, the gesture soothing to you.

he grins.

always so cute...

"we should get you back to bed," he murmurs, bending down to your level. "want gege to carry you?"

you crack your eyes open and shake your head, prompting him to tilt his in question.

"i don't want you tripping on the way to your room if you're still dizzy, pipsqueak—"

"i don't wanna go to my room," you cut him off.

"can't i rest near you?" you peer up at him, hope filled in your droopy eyes, and something about that hits him.

you'd been on your own feeling like crap the past two days (now onto the third) and, knowing you, haven't been taking proper care of yourself, prompting the sickness to become what it is now.

no one could guarantee that you'd been eating properly, taking the proper medicine and on time, and most of all, not trying to work while in this state.

his heart feels heavy at the thought, but at his prolonged silence and hard stare, you shift your gaze behind him, embarrassed, and speak up again.

"or— i've already caused you enough trouble, right? this is supposed to be your time off and i've worried you enough... so i'll go back to my room! i wouldn't want to get you si—"

"no, no, no," he quickly cuts you off, swiftly shaking his head before grabbing onto your shoulders.

"pipsqueak, when have i ever denied you of your wishes?"

you sniffle. he did have a point...

"and besides, it's my job to worry about you, ya know?"

"so come on, let me carry you to the couch, yeah? we can put on whatever you like until you fall asleep."

you smile, ever so grateful at how caleb loved to spoil you.

you move to stand up and barely feel your feet hit the ground for half a second before you're easily scooped into caleb's arms, laughing at the sudden gesture before he walks towards the living room with you.

"caleb! i could've—"

"nope, you really couldn't have. i saw the way you trudged through the kitchen earlier, pipsqueak. you looked like you'd fall over if i so much as blew on you."

you look away, small pout adorning your lips, sniffling again.

"s' not my fault... don't even know how i got sick this time."

"maybe cause you missed me so much?

"yeah, maybe."

his heart throbs at your honesty, plopping down on the couch with you before smiling.

"so i guess this means i've got the better immune system, huh?"

"ugh, i knew you'd bring that up..."

he chuckles, letting you adjust in his hold as you use his lap as a pillow.

"whaddya wanna watch, pipsqueak?"

"dunno," you yawn. "just see what's on right now."

you watch as he looks around for the remote, pointing at it being just out of reach on the coffee table. you're about to offer to grab it before you see the strings of his evol grip onto it, bringing it into his hand before he catches it with ease and begins flipping through the channels.

"cheater," you tease quietly, letting out a small laugh at his use of his evol.

"hm?" he catches your words, humming thoughtfully in response, eyes glued to the television.

"you say that, but i remember a certain hunter practically crying under my evol while begging me to—"

"c-caleb!"

he laughs at the way you try to swat at him as you're laying down, settling for a small thwap! on his thigh instead.

"sorry, sorry," he says nonchalantly, loving how easily riled up he could get you at the mention your bedroom activities.

"here," he says, free hand finding its way to your head, softly massaging at your scalp.

"this a good enough apology?" he asks, only earning pleased mewls from you in response.

he smiles fondly in response, pleased at your little noises and the way you nuzzle into him further, resembling a satisfied cat that just filled its belly and was ready for its afternoon nap.

he eventually lands on a channel with a classic favorite movie for the both of you, setting the remote down and using his now-free hand to rub soothing circles into your back.

"you know, wearing my clothes while you're sick is a little selfish, don't you think?"

"s' warm," you mumble, slowly being lulled to sleep by his ministrations.

"and comfy. smells like you..."

even though he teased you, he always felt his heart grow fuller at the sight of you in his clothes, and he felt some amount of pride that it was the first thing you'd reached for even in your current state.

"yeah? i guess i can forgive you," he whispers, evol reaching for the nearest blanket to drape it over your lower half.

in the edges of slumber, you can feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, but you don't have the energy to reprimand him for doing such a thing and risk himself getting sick.

he sits back up, watching you fondly as he continues his comforting ministrations.

"get well soon, okay? ill be right here when you wake up."

even after he was sure you were sleeping, he continued his gentle caresses, comforted by the fact that you were there with him, and that he could keep a close eye on you.

so long as you were under caleb's care, you would be okay; that was something he would always make sure of.

-

extra:

half-paying attention to the movie on screen, he was already planning a soup to make you when his phone buzzed beside him.

it was a message from a friend of his.

wanna grab a bite later? my treat! some others will be joining too.

grateful for the offer, he messaged back quickly.

can't, playing nurse for my cute girlfriend tonight~

aw, next time, then!

he placed his phone back down, looking back at you and brushing stray hair out of your face as he thought back to your words.

"can't i rest near you?"

you'd looked so helpless, almost like you were expecting him to refuse you and make you rest by yourself, but eyes holding a lingering hope anyway as they peered into his soul.

his heart is full, his eyes are full of mirth, lips curling lovingly.

silly girl...

there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, right beside you—

whether you were ill or perfectly healthy.

always.

and he would make sure you never felt the burden of illness by yourself so long as he could help it.

-

a/n: i'm sick and couldn't help but imagine the l&ds men taking care of me ,and namely imagined caleb nursing me back to health so here we are. caleb come home!