#i realise this makes it sound as if my parents were dead THEY ARE NOT but you get the gist

[vox-fantasma]

i think i was born for a blue-collar job actually. office jobs make me want to die but manual labour is so life-affirming

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[scarlet2007]

⊹ ₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ Late night talks ₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Batman x reader / Bruce Wayne x reader.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: After accidentally mistaking Batman as a criminal and spraying him with pepper spray, you both have seemed to form a friendship.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Pepper spray, mention of Gotham being dangerous.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 1.5k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

[ Masterlist ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Bruce has no idea how he got himself into this situation. Or rather... This habit.

It all started on that faithful night.

Walking alone at night in Gotham was like an one way ticket to heaven. A death wish, as some may say.

You sighed, looking around anxiously as you tried to walk as fast as you could. Every flicker of the night light, every random sound was making you jump in terror. You were half convinced that this was going to be your last day on earth.

You were just about to walk past an alley when you saw a shadowy figure stand menacingly at the entrance. The lights were flickering as the lamp above seemed to be surviving off of the happiness of the citizens of Gotham. Obviously, there wasn't much life left in it.

Red alarms started to go off in your head as the figure slowly started to move towards you. The heavy sound of its boot hitting the ground, the sound of your quickened heartbeat, the sound of the pained hissed that left the shadowy figure- Wait... Pained hiss?

It was only then you realised that you had sprayed the shadowy figure, Batman, with the pepper spray you were clutching while walking.

You gasped, staring at Batman in shock. He was hissing at the sudden attack, one of his eye half opened as he stared directly at you.

'I am so dead.'

Your eyes were wide before you shakingly reached into your purse, pulling out a small water bottle as you handed it to him, "I am so sorry! I thought you were some... Some criminal! Oh my- Splash this in your eyes! I am so sorry!" Half of the words sounded like nonsense due to how fast you were speaking.

He reluctaningly grabbed the water, splashing some water into his eyes as the affect of the spray started to subdue.

For a minute or two, nobody said anything as you both just stared at each other.

"What are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I am so sorry!"

Both of you decided to speak at the same time, which made none of you understand what the other person said.

"Come again?"

"I didn't hear-"

And it happened again.

"Speak."

"I am sorry-"

And again.

Finally, Batman seemed to have enough of it as he just stared at you broodingly, making you shut your mouth from fear.

"Why are you out at such an hour?"

You paused at his question, looking at him sheepishly, "Uh... Nightshift..."

Your answer made him raise an eyebrow which you didn't see because of his mask, "You shouldn't walk alone in the streets of Gotham with only a pepper spray as a weapon."

You nodded, looking at the ground as you suddenly felt like a child getting scolded by your parent.

Batman sighed as he stared at your figure, he can't just let you walk around at such an hour. Especially when it looked like you had the survival skills of a limbless cockroach.

"I will walk you home. Lead the way."

And that's how everything started.

"You haven't been paying attention to what I have been yapping about, have you?" You deadpanned, staring at him as he spaced out.

This made Batman blink, coming out of his chain of thoughts as he stared at the bowl of cereal you passed to him.

"Eat."

He blinked again, glancing at you in slight confusion before he started to eat.

He doesn't remember how this became a... Thing. It started out as occasionally walking you home from your nightshifts, then it shifted to him being injured after a rather brutal fight with a criminal near your apartment complex which made you usher him to your house for some patching up and now it has become a habit of Batman to swing by your window every once in a while, whenever he knew you would be awake or knew you had a day off.

You have come out of your shell fully, and now he knows you as the sassy and playful girl he once saved instead of the scared and timided girl.

"Eat up! You look like you have been starving since the dark ages, Mr. Dark knight." He let out an amused grunt at your words, rolling his eyes as he ate the cereal.

It was a comical scene, having him sit in your kitchen in his Batsuit while you lectured him about his poor eating habits in your pastel night gown.

You were an amusing person, a dramatic display of playfulness and sarcasm was always expected from you. Batman has seemed to grow fond of you and your shared time spent together over the past few months as he found himself looking forward to these meet-ups.

He has heard it all, from how much you dislike your job to how much you loved visiting animal sanctuaries to how you once crashed your friend's bicycle into different objects all under 15 minutes.

All these little stories would make him smile slightly while he worked in his Batcave. Alfred has heard all about you as well, the butler seemed to have grown fond of you as well despite never meeting you.

He glanced at you, watching you move around the kitchen as you washed the dishes. A thought passed through his mind.

He could help you.

Imagining him, Batman, helping you wash the dishes in his Batsuit. That would certainly be something you would die laughing at.

He shook his head slightly at the thought, focusing on eating the cereal you had given him.

"So, when are you going to leave your shitty job?" That made you look at him, slightly taken aback by his sudden question.

"Oh... Um... When I find a job that pays the same or more...?"

There it was again. The same answer you always give him. At first, he used to get irritated by your answer but now he understands your point. He knows the financial struggle you have gone through as a child, which has made you very anxious about having no job. All his attempts to help you fell on deaf ears as you firmly stated that you do not want money from your struggling vigilante friend.

He still has no idea why you think he is a struggling vigilante.

Does he look broke to you?

He sighed, glancing at the clock as he saw what time it was. The sun was about to rise.

"Do you have a day-off tomorrow or another night shift?"

You looked up from the dishes, glancing at him, "I have a day-off."

He nodded, walking up the sink to wash his bowl as you stepped aside to make space for him.

This is starting to feel oddly domestic.

"You should head to bed then." This earned a giggle from you as you looked at him with an amused expression.

"Aww, are you worried about my health?" You cooed jokingly as you leaned against the counter.

"You work at odd hours. From 8 pm till 3:45 am, it has to be one of the most ridiculous work hours I have ever heard of." He mumbled, scrubbing the bowl as he pretended to be annoyed at your playful behaviour.

You hummed, nodding your head in agreement before a small yawn escaped you, making Batman give you a 'I told you so' look behind his mask.

"See? You should head to bed." He grumbled, drying the bowl before putting it in its place.

"Alright, alright, I'll head to bed. Just make sure that whenever you leave, you close the window." He nodded as he watched you walked towards your bedroom, stretching as you glanced back at him.

He still has no idea how this has become something so normal to both of you that you just let him stay in your house while you sleep and he knows exactly where the bowl goes in the cupboard.

Bruce sighed as he flipped through the documents and files of the new Wayne enterprise project, his eyes narrowed as the sunlight from outside was starting to bother him. He could almost feel a headache coming in.

It has been weeks since he last saw you, he has been busy with his duties as a vigilante and the owner of the Wayne enterprise to the point he could barely find the time to visit you. Thankfully, you have left your old job for good so he knows that you are at least not walking around the dangerous streets of Gotham at night.

But he still can't help but feel worried about your financial state, to the point that he has voiced it out to Alfred a few times.

He sighed again, glancing at the door as he heard a knock.

"Come in!"

His eyes widened as he stared as you walked in, his new secretary.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Alfred suddenly pestering him to appoint a new secretary, Alfred going out of his way to personal find him a new secretary. Everything is starting to make sense.

'That cunning old man...'

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris has no reason to hang out with girls if there's no fucking involved — but it's a little different with shy!reader.

the subway car is fairly quiet, the faint hum of the train along the tracks the only sound breaking the stillness. a few strangers occupy random seats, each absorbed in their own world — some listen to music through plugged-on earphones and bluetooth headphones, some are busy reading their books, turning their pages softly, and others have surrendered to their tiredness, their eyes closed, heads leaning against the cool metal poles or the windows.

you're sitting on one of the wall seats beside chris, your anxiety bubbling beneath the surface as your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, a nervous habit. your leg bounces restlessly, tapping against the hard floor as you glance up at the digital clock on the train's schedule, the late hour staring back at you.

now, you don't have a curfew at all — but you've always been mindful of getting home at a reasonable hour to avoid worrying your parents, and with your phone dead and unable to call them about your whereabouts, a wave of unease washes over you at the thought of getting into some sort of trouble.

chris is calm and relaxed beside you, his legs comfortably spread, knee bumping against yours as the train ways. his head rests back on the wall, eyes closed, while he chews on a stick of a lollipop that he devoured minutes ago, the muscles in his jaw twitch with each chew.

spending the entire day together was a little odd. you were originally heading to the city alone (after mustering up the courage when your friends had told you they all had plans) and you had bumped into chris on the way into the station. he was straightforward with his questioning, wondering why someone as shy as you would go to the big city alone, before announcing that he was coming with you.

the two of you spent the day walking the busy streets of the city, going into your favourite little thrift stores — which you felt embarrassed with when chris followed you inside instead of heading to a different store, making small comments under his breath and snorting at the little trinkets he came across. when he had led you towards the large stores, the price tags that made you squirm, you trailed behind like a little puppy, feeling out of place.

and when you went to go eat, that's when time had seemed to go by so quickly. you were enjoying yourself in the markets, eating delicious foods at stalls that left your stomach full — although you definitely made some room when chris brought you to one of his favourite dessert stalls, sharing a chocolate fudge and cherry sundae.

"will you fuckin' stop, kid?" chris grumbles suddenly, interrupting you from your memories of today, and your eyes flit to him. his hand lands firmly on your knee to stop your restless bouncing. "you're pissin' me the fuck off with your thumpin'... like a fuckin' rabbit, jesus christ."

"sorry." you whisper an apology, warmth riding to your cheeks as you try to steady your nerves, but it only spikes when you realise chris' hand remains on your knee.

"you need to relax, a'ight? because you on edge right now is.. well, it's makin' me all fidgety 'n shit. just relax... breathe," he tells you as he shifts, his head rolling to the side to meet your gaze, his eyebrows scrunched. "seriously, kid, what's got you all jumpy? huh?"

"it's late," you murmur quietly, glancing at the digital clock once again.

"late?" chris echoes, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "what? don't tell me that you got a curfew or some shit?"

"no, no," you shake your head. "it's just that... i always make it home at a certain time so my parents don't have to worry about me, and not only did i go into the city today, but my phone is dead too. i'm really worried that they've been trying to call me and—"

"okay, okay, okay," chris interrupts your rambling, a huff escaping his lips as he shifts his hips, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "you know your parents' number, yeah? jus' call from my phone, kid. tell 'em you got busy and your phone died — it's easy."

you nod slowly, taking a much more relaxed breath as you accept his phone to do just that. chris scoffs quietly, resuming his chewing on the lollipop stick while squeezing your knee, before slumping his head down nonchalantly on your shoulder, listening as you speak to your parents — completely unaware of you trying to keep your voice steady and ignoring the flurry of butterflies through your stomach at the close proximity.

© STURNIOZ

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀SKATER.ᐟMATT × RICH.ᐟREADER

RICH.ᐟREADER ,, cheetah print. takes no shit. expensive taste. silver jewelry. fur, fur, fur. lip gloss. megan thee stallion coded. always got a sassy comment. knows all the drama. still sheltered despite everything. bad bitch.

SKATER.ᐟMATT ,, beanies. backwards caps. baggy everything. cuts and bruises from skating. never not wearing rings. scratches your initials on the back of one of his boards. dominic fike coded. snarky & sarcastic.

NOTES ,, thank u to bae @lovesickgrlsrh0t for planting these brainworms in my head i fear these two are my literal faves atm </3 also the triplets hit 7m n im so proud of them 😞💓 MDNI thank u

YOU'D KNOWN OF MATT BECAUSE OF A MUTUAL FRIEND. the friend was someone you'd gotten to know at a party, not exactly in your crowd, but the party was one with various people who dabbled in various things. you liked the friend, yeah, and they talked about a friend of theirs called matt, often. a skater, like.. one of those types to get caught trespassing on private property whilst hanging out, or something. not the type to attend nice galas and drink the finest wines in fancy ass outfits.

so you hadn't really cared about him, no. he was just a guy you knew of. and to matt, you were just some stuck-up socialite who he'd happened to go to school with since kindergarten. he didn't hate you, no, but like.. he wasn't exactly fond of you. he wasn't into the whole high life you associated yourself with. so it was obvious: the two of you were total opposites and wouldn't interact ever. especially since it was senior year, why would you in the first place?

turns out, it was actually quite simple. you'd been skipping class, as per usual, but had gotten caught this time. matt hadn't completed his coursework. now? detention, for the both of you. you'd most definitely considered skipping detention, since you had other engagements to attend, but you knew your parents wouldn't let you attend any other engagments for the rest of your senior year if you did. you're very clearly upset about detention, a pout adorning your glossy lips, your eyes fluttering around with not an ounce of enthusiasm.

it was just you and matt, you quickly realise. you stare at him for a minute, eyes narrowing. this catches his attention, and he cocks a brow as he glances up at you, "you get detention for havin' a starin' problem or what?" he's blunt, almost dead pan, rolling his eyes at the sight of you just.. staring at him. this makes your brow furrow, "that ain't no way to treat someone you've never talked to before, is it? jeez." you scoff under your breath, folding your arms over your chest. not wanting to act all petulant infront of the.. barely even a teacher, it's some substitute.

matt's quiet as he watches you sit down, the way you sit a far bit away as if being next to him will degrade the expensive material of your outfit. a scoff escapes him, in a similar fashion to your own, and he shakes his head, glancing away. you have this tendency to.. well, not shut up, so you start whining under your breath about how you were supposed to be at some gala, mingling with other stuffy, rich people but you were here. with him.

matt's just watching you, completely baffled and amused by you. it was absolutely so shallow of you and pretty vapid, ut he found himself a little intrigued. his eyes liked what he was seeing, you're pretty, super pretty. you dress like you know it too. "uh," he starts, "you didn't ask for my two cents on the whole.. gala thing, and i know i ain't the type to even be goin' anywhere near those things, but—could always pay someone to go for you. you got the money, don't you?" that causes a silence to settle over you, and you're quiet for a minute.

but then you burst out laughing, a sound that matt knows he wants to hear more of. he tries to hide a small smile, but then you're switching up on him the instant you realise you're laughing at something he'd said. "i got the money, but i ain't payin' someone to enjoy the time i was going to. defeats the whole purpose, dumbass." the smile switching to a glare damn near gave him whiplash. his brow furrows once more, and he raises his hands in surrender.

"shit, okay, okay, keep whinin' then," god, he didn't understand you, not at all. you were something, alright. "..'n' who're you callin' a dumbass?" he mumbles under his breath, sighing as he glanced back at the ceiling once more. giving you a quick glare, in return, that ends your conversation quite abruptly. but both of you are intrigued by eachother, clearly.

"you look so out of place here, kid," matt can't help but laugh at you. the said mutual friend from before had invited you to some party at some random guy's house. a birthday party, or some shit. a total lapse of judgement on your part, you knew, and you'd literally snuck out of your parent's place to be there. why the fuck did you do that for? you looked so out of place, he was right. you're stood there like even touching a single thing'll kill you on the spot.

you glare at him instantly, folding your arms under your chest which instantly draws his attention down to your cleavage. you notice, of course, hating the way a warm feeling bubbles in your stomach from how he looks at you. "don't remember ever askin' for your input," your head tilts, "just 'cause you got a pretty face don't mean you needa' go 'round stickin' your head where it don't belong."

"you think i got a pretty face? how sweet," he sticks his tongue out, a soft smirk gracing his lips. he looks good. dark tufts of hair stick out from beneath his beanie, the colourful lights set up causing a nice sheen to glow down onto his face. you're not crushing on him though—no, no. he's just some skater. he could never give you what you want. "c'mon, relax a little," he says his words soon after his first few just so you don't get a chance to snap at his cocky remark, catching you off guard.

"i don't know anyone here," you mutter under your breath, fiddling with your expensive necklace, once again drawing his attention downwards. he's pretty sure you're doing it on purpose now, honestly, since you keep doing it. those nails.. he's imagining them wrapped around other things, that's for sure. "you know me," his voice is a little gentler, and he nods over to the kitchen where beer pong is set up, "it'll be fun. loosen' you up a lil' bit." you're skeptical for a moment, but you nod, making your way over with him.

he has to say, he's into how quiet you get when you're somewhere out of your comfort zone. you're not as mouthy, or annoying. as much as he loves your banter, the flirty insults between you two, well.. he likes you like this. "you've never played beer pong?" matt's literally gasping, staring at you like you're insane.

your face scrunches up at that, "well, yeah. no one's playin' beer pong at a party where they serve scotch—" you shake your head, sighing. he wanted you to loosen up? you'd loosen up. he gives you a look as if to say chill out, before he laughs quietly when you do, in fact, chill out. "i'll teach you. s'easy." his voice is easy, low. and you notice how close he's stood next to you. "you're a quick learner, m'guessin'."

"sure," you roll your shoulders in a shrug, glancing at the beer pong being set up for another round before you look back at matt. "yeah," you affirm after a minute. matt glances at you with a soft, incredulous look before he shakes his head. "c'mon, i don't bite. neither does the beer. at least, it shouldn't." you're calming down with him already, he likes that a lot too.

you'd had another total lapse of judgement, surprise surprise, having been swayed by the inarguably nice night with matt and his stupid, pretty face into becoming fuck buddies. perhaps not your finest moment, but definitely your most pleasurable. he makes you feel good, so, so good. takes away your stress from all your parents expectations, makes you feel taken care of. you two aren't exactly friends with benefits, more like.. people who know eachother, like acquaintances with benefits. but fuck buddies suits you two better.

it'd started off as getting together once, meeting at another party and giving into the raw attraction between you two. he'd had you beneath him, your legs wrapped tight around his hips as he bucked up into you with a brutal pace. his hands grasped at the bed around your head, a bed in which he had no idea whose it was. hey, he needed you, real bad. the logistics of everything hadn't crossed his mind once. "need you," you'd whined, voice breaking a little with how loudly you'd been crying out his name.

"you're gettin' me, baby," he grunted, grasping at the bed a little tighter as you clenched around him, practically trapping him there. his eyes lift up to yours, a flush covering his face at how damn good you feel. "what d'you want?" he growled, all breathless and heavy, like even speaking took a lot out of him. "need you, ah—after this, too," you couldn't have him just once, that wouldn't be fair. he felt too fucking perfect to only have once.

matt laughs quietly, realising you're on the verge of just babbling from how deep he's fucking you. "shh, sh, i got you," he murmured, lowering his head down to yours to press his lips down against yours to ensure you wouldn't keep talking. between kisses, he whispers, "gonna have me whenever you want, baby. whenever you want." that had you practically squirting, thighs trembling as the movements of his hips stuttered.

he kept up his promise, and whenever you wanted him, you got him. matt didn't want to seem desperate, but he was starting to like you, a lot. those snarky comments and bitchy glares started turning into fond looks and quiet compliments. he wasn't soft on you, he really didn't want to be—but there he was, letting you practically walk all over him in those expensive heels. it wasn't until a certain moment where you realised you felt the same as he did. he fell first, but god damn it, did you fall harder.

matt's buried so deep inside you, all you can think about, all you want to think about is him. he's overwhelming in the best way, having told you to keep your eyes on his or else he wouldn't give you what you wanted. "eyes on me, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes," he murmured, your legs hiked up onto his shoulders as opposed to his hips this time. you two had been in many different positions with eachother, sure, but this? how close he is? how he's balls deep inside your cunt? can't think straight.

you lift your eyes to his, swallowing thickly as another whine rips from your throat. he coos softly, "there you are. there's my girl," his girl? you're his girl? he's being so soft, and loving, nothing like he's been before or you've ever had before. it's making you feel some kind of way and it feels wrong, but so right at the same time. "makin' such pretty sounds, lookin' so lovely like this.. you take my dick so well."

"matt—" you gasp softly, trying to bring yourself as close as possible with a swivel of your hips forward. matt groans, his head falling down into the crook of your neck as he slides his hands down to grasp at your thighs. just the feel of the callouses on his hands from various skating accidents has you squealing and whining beneath him. "so good, shit, oh, oh—right there, riiight there.."

"right there? right there?" matt drives himself deeper within you, whining into your skin. his nose brushes against your soft skin, grunting under his breath with each thrust forward of his hips. "i've got you, c'mon, cum 'round my cock for me, let it go, there she is, that's it.." he's thrusting up into you through your orgasm, holding you as close as possible, and even with the pleasure clouding your brain, you're realising that you're most definitely in love.

maybe it's the slow drag of his cock against your walls, as he takes a slower, steadier approach to pounding you into the bed—maybe it's his sweet words, you don't know, but all of it coming together? you're in love.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7 ִ ꒱

[kurokawaia]

❛ HE CARES !! ❜

Genin! Sasuke Uchiha X Fem!Genin!Reader

WC; 700+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: same warning as my other genin sasuke work, no triggers apart from sasuke himself, x fem reader, reader is apart of team 7, reader is a genin, reader is a ninja

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) genin sasuke x fem or gn reader where he catches them crying over something(plot is up to you) and tries to comfort them? lots of fluff and maybe hints of a closer relationship? :0 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

Sasuke had always been observant.

He didn't say much, but he saw things.

He saw how hard you were training.

He saw you were doing all this for him, but he said nothing, he didn't want to embarrass you.

That must have been why he'd noticed you in the first place, too. You were doing it for him, but you weren't making it obvious; you were yourself.

But today was different.

Sasuke was on his way back from his own training when he saw you sitting beneath a large tree near the training grounds. Hunched over- head resting on your knees, even from a distance, he could hear soft, muffled sounds, crying.

He felt his heart ache.

Sasuke definitely wasn't the type to get involved in other people's problems, but seeing you there, obviously crying and sad. It tugged at his heart in a way he didn't know. Sasuke had no clue what and why his heart was tugging, but he knew it had something to do with you.

He let out a sigh and then and then found himself walking in your direction. His footsteps were light, but you tensed nonetheless at the soft sound of his approach, how did you even know it was Sasuke? You tried to hastily wipe your tears away, praying to God no one caught you in such a state, especially of all people, Sasuke.

"Hey," he said softly.

You looked up, startled, face red and blotchy from crying. "Sasuke?"

He didn't say a word, at first, only knelt before you. "What's wrong?"

You quickly turned your face away, mortified to be caught sobbing, you were mentally slapping yourself. In front of the guy you liked as well? Terrible, you could just hide away in a hole right now.

"Nothing," you mumbled, trying to regain composure. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't look like nothing," he said, a little too bluntly and you flinched slightly, at which his eyes slight widened as he realised his tone.

Oh no, he thought, I don't. want to hurt her more.

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes again. "I just. I'm frustrated, okay? It's stupid."

Sasuke said nothing but waited patiently for you to continue. Your eyes widened as you felt that Sasuke was waiting for you to speak, he wanted to know how you were feeling.

Your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

It wasn't just him being in worry, asking about you. but he was also very close to you-your heart won't be able to take it.

"I've been trying so hard, you know? Training, doing my best. But it just feels like. like it's not enough. I'm not getting stronger fast enough." Your voice cracked slightly. "And I just feel. behind. Like I'm never going to catch up."

Sasuke was silent for a moment, working through what you'd said. He wasn't the best with comforting people, he just didn't get much practice with it given his dead parents and sibling, but he did grasp what you were saying.

Better than anyone in the world, in fact. Better than anyone in the world, he knew what it felt like to think you were never catching up.

"You're not behind," he said finally. "Everyone moves at their own pace. It doesn't mean you're weak."

You blinked in surprise.

It wasn't like Sasuke to offer encouragement like that.

He turned away from you, staring off in the distance, his voice softening a bit. "It's not easy. Getting stronger. it takes time. And it's frustrating. But. you're not alone in that. I get it."

And hearing that from Sasuke... Sasuke who had always been strong, always one step ahead of the rest-made something in your chest come undone. It sounded like he really did understand.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Sasuke's gaze relaxed for a moment before he shook his head quickly, almost awkwardly, He was not used to this, speaking this way, being near someone this way.

With you, though, it didn't feel as odd as he had thought it would.

He liked it.

Sasuke thinks that he might even love you.

He said again, this time with a quieter voice. "You're... not weak. You're one of the few people I actually think has potential." Your heart skipped a beat at that.  Coming from Sasuke, that was probably one of the highest compliments you could get. Lifting your head up to his face, you see the soft pink flush on his cheeks which makes your heart stutter.  He cares about you.  Truly, he does.

You didn't know what to say, so you only inclined your head a little farther, your shoulder brushing against his. It wasn't much for the moment, but it would do.

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[fayes-fics]

The Wonderful Unexpected: Chapter 1

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU (future chapters)

Chapter Summary: it’s Christmas, but it’s beginning to look a lot like a shitshow…

artwork by me

Warnings: None really... swearing and non-graphic character attack and injury.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Welcome to Chapter 1 of my next multi-chapter! A modern rom-com based on While You Were Sleeping. This is really just getting the wheels in motion, where she encounters Anthony. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis. Thank you to @colettebronte for beta reading. Please enjoy! <3

The first time you see him, your heart almost stops.

It is a Monday morning, your first shift in your new job at a coffee shop on a dreary day in late October, when he sweeps in, a blur of athletic movement in a sharply tailored suit. 

Your boss, the store manager, Gen, starts to make his drink, double espresso, without him even having to say a word. And seemingly, just like that, he is gone again, you standing there, stupefied, awkwardly clutching the milk-frothing pitcher.

And thus, it begins. 

Every weekday between 8:01 and 8:15, Prince Charming glides in, grabs his cup and is gone—a beautiful mirage with amazing cheekbones and a watch that costs more than your annual rent. It's like your world goes into slow motion, and, to steal a phrase from your dearly departed Dad’s favourite song, birds suddenly appear every time he is near. 

Anyway, one random, soggy Thursday, the fates intervene, and it's your turn to serve him. As soon as you see him striding purposely towards the shop, you start his drink, butterflies in your stomach. The smile he bestows upon you is dazzling… even if his attention is slightly diverted by the call he is on. 

Sparks shoot up your arm and into your chest as your fingers brush his briefly as you hand over the small cup.

Surely, this is meant to be? 

He is perfect. Your husband (he just doesn't realise it yet).

All you need is a way to introduce yourself…

—

It's the end of your shift three days before Christmas when Gen sidles up to you, an odd expression on her face.

“I’d like to recommend you for Employee of the Month.” 

“Didn't know there was one,” you shrug, having no idea what that could mean. You suspect not a great deal. Barista is no one’s chosen career. This is very much what you hope is a pit stop on your way to better things. A way to pay the rent until you get your big break. Or get to go travelling.

“Oh yes, well, it's been a few weeks now, and really, you’re my best employee. You are never late, always reliable, never get an order wrong, and are friendly to all the customers…” She trails off, looking very sheepish. “And if you are willing to work Christmas Day… ”

“Christmas Day!? Why are we even open on Christmas Day anyway? It’ll be dead, even around here,” you frown, putting down the cloth you were wiping the counter with.

“Owner policy,” she shrugs. “It's only for four hours in the morning - 7 til 11. If you do, it’s quadruple pay...” she lilts, attempting to make it sound appealing.

You squirm uncomfortably, not wanting to let her down but also really not wanting to work on that day. You were looking forward to a duvet and Netflix day with the second most handsome creature in the world (and definitely the most loyal), Chairman Meow.

“Look,” Gen petitions softly. “Prue still has bronchitis. Edie can't switch because she's got some big trip to see her cousins, and l promised my kiddos that I'd be there for them this year… l know it isn't fair, and I can't force you to do it... but you mentioned you are single and your parents are gone. You're the only one…” she trails off, looking awkward.

“...Without family…” you supply glumly, already knowing you will capitulate. At least quadruple pay will come in handy.

—

You are struggling to haul your Aunt Hilda’s Christmas ‘gift’ - a frighteningly enormous box you can tell is choked full of ugly breakables - up the stairs after a long shift when he materialises as he always seems to, just when it is most inconvenient.

Not your prince. No. Sadly not.

Albion “Alby” Finch. 

Yep, quite the name. Not one anyone could live up to. But perhaps particularly not him. The well-meaning owner of the building who lives in the ground floor flat. Still adjusting to his status as a landlord since his father passed last year, he is boundlessly friendly in that untrained puppy way. Always wanting to help but always somehow ending up more of a hindrance than anything. 

“Oh y/n, that looks tricky; allow me!”

He pushes his glasses up his nose with a pointer finger, then immediately lunges forward and grabs the other side of the heavy box without asking first.

“No, wait….!” 

But it's too late.

You had the box precariously balanced, holding it strategically over the poorly taped seams. But his sudden interference has disturbed the contents. You watch as he realises he was wholly unprepared for its weight; his face fleetingly takes on a look of respect that you were handling such a burden.

Time slows like molasses as it slips from his grip, a horrible crunching sound as it hits the step, losing much of its structural integrity in the impact. Then, a calamitous symphony as it tumbles almost poetically down the whole flight, picking up speed as it goes. Yet again, the world is in slo-mo, but not in a good way this time, watching its barrelling path with increasing dread. Both of you wince as the inevitable happens: the spindly legs of the Alby’s heirloom table in the hallway snapping under the duress of poorly packaged terminal velocity porcelain. 

“I'm so, so sorry!” he starts, flustering like a bird. “It’s all my fault; I’ll pay for it,” he assures.

“Alby…” you sigh, head slumping back in resignation, staring at the ceiling. You can't be too mad; he has sort of done you a favour, saving you the inevitable trip to the charity shop.

“What can I do to make amends?” He presses on. “May I take you to dinner?”

You are almost shocked that he has finally summoned the courage to ask you out after two years. When you tilt your chin back down, you see the panic rising on his face as he belatedly realises what he did.

“You are my landlord. Probably not a good idea,” you return diplomatically, trying to let him down easily. He is a nice man, and his admiration for cheese is to be respected, but you know you could never see him as anything but a sweet, slightly clueless friend.

“Right-e-o,” he nods, cheeks reddened. “Of course. So rude. Please forgive me.”

You wave a dismissive hand, staring down at the pile of destruction below, dreading the thought of cleaning up.

“I’ll deal with all that up,” Alby gestures, tracking your line of sight.

And for once, rather than help as you inevitably always do, you agree, your feet throbbing after a long day where it seemed every teenager in zone 1 needed a matcha oat latte.

So, as you tumble into your flat, you sigh in relief, flinging off your shoes and pouring a glass of water for yourself and a saucer of cat milk. You may not have your Prince Charming (yet…?), but you have Chairman Meow, who always makes a genuinely excellent fluffy pillow for your favourite brainless binge-watch. 

—

It’s as if there is lead in your socks as you shuffle down the pavement and roll up the shutters. 

Christmas Day. 6:54am.

Still an hour until sunrise, it's misty and rainy, but then that's typical London, really.

What isn't typical London is the deserted streets. Hardly a soul to be seen, only the very occasional car. Most people are tucked up in bed or, if they are parents, blearily watching their kids tear wrapping paper asunder in pursuit of loud plastic.

When an hour has already passed without a single customer, you are entering a new level of boredom. Inventing new lyrics for the Christmas music playing, balancing stirring sticks into a pagoda-like structure of impressive resilience (it can hold a cup!), cursing the owner who even thought it was a good idea to be open today. It's all a recipe for a sort of irksome ennui.

So when you hear a commotion outside, you almost fall off the stool you have been idly twirling on. Springing from your perch, you run to the glass window, keen for any distraction.

But the sight that greets you has your heart in your throat.

There, in the street, surrounded by a gang of kids in oversized hoodies, is your man. Prince Charming. They are tussling with him, and you realise they are likely trying to mug him of his expensive watch. 

You observe helplessly, too scared to confront them, worried that doing so might exacerbate the situation. As you fumble in your apron pocket for your phone, the kids disperse, and to your horror, you see your man lying in the road, worryingly still. 

Before you are even conscious of it, instead of dialling 999, you are flinging open the shop door and sprinting towards him. 

“Sir! Sir!” 

Skidding to a halt and hovering over him, you can see an ugly bruise forming on his left temple already. They must have knocked him out.

“Sir! Please wake up!!”

But there is no response. 

You fall to your knees next to him, tapping his cheek lightly with the back of your hand, a sense of dread filling you with every passing millisecond.

Cmon universe! You can't do this! Why can't you take out the ugly ones?! Kidding... Sort of. 

As your completely inappropriate internal monologue rages, you grab his shoulders and shake him gently, needing him to get up. Get out of the road, at least.

“Sir! Please! You are lying in the road! Please get up!”

You know it's Christmas Day, so traffic is thankfully light. However, if a bus comes around this blind corner, it will hit you both before it sees you.

Again, nothing from him.

You bend down to place your ear next to his nose and mouth, heart pounding, to see if you can hear breathing, at least. 

“Fuck, you smell so good!”

It's out of your mouth before you can censor it, not that anyone is within earshot, this unconscious beauty aside. Your nostrils are filled with expensive, no doubt custom-blended aftershave, which literally makes your mouth water. You have to tamp the sudden urge to bury your face into his neck and inhale deeply.

But then you hear the hiss of air brakes and know a large vehicle is approaching—it could be a bus, could be a lorry. Either way, you are not exactly going to stay here to find out.

Without knowing quite what possesses you, you limpet yourself around his prone body and literally log-roll him out of the road. A blur of frantic tumbling movement that only ceases when your knees encounter the rough stipples of the pedestrian crossing section of the pavement. Shocking even yourself with the strength you are able to muster.

It's incredible what reserves of power you can summon when Prince Charming’s life is on the line, apparently.

As you lay straddled awkwardly on top of him, a street-sweeping lorry barrels around the corner, right over where he was lying. Sweeping up what you suspect was his mobile phone in the process before you could even grab it for him.

Heart racing at the closeness of the call, you collapse on top of him, breathing hard. Trying desperately to ignore the stirring of your traitorous libido at the sensation of muscular thighs clenched between your own. 

His eyes flutter open, and you murmur a breathless “hi,” almost losing yourself in their depthless, warm beauty. That is before they roll backwards, and his head slumps to the left.

Just great.

As Michael Buble might sing at this particular moment…  ♫ It's beginning to look a lot like a shitshow. ♫

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[whereslynx]

Reader is girlfriend of Oscar and big sister of Ruby and Mario. She sneaks Oscar in for some smutty time but they get caught by her parents in the middle and they ask him nicely to leave (Throw him out 😂)

a/n: HAHAHAHAHAHAH (p.s, got into a car accident lol sorry for the late answer😭)

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You had barely managed to get Oscar through the window without making too much noise. The Diaz charm wasn’t going to save him this time if your parents caught him in their house. You held a finger to your lips as he landed softly on the carpet, his wide smirk telling you he wasn’t taking this nearly as seriously as you were.

“Shh,” you whispered sharply, closing the window behind him. “If my mom hears anything, we’re both dead.”

Oscar chuckled low, the sound a little too cocky for someone sneaking in enemy territory. “Relax, mami. I’m like a ghost—silent, smooth, gone before anyone notices.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging him toward your bed. “A ghost who’s about to get us both grounded.”

Oscar quickly shed his clothes, his impressive erection springing free. He made quick work of your remaining garments as well, tossing them carelessly aside.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned appreciatively, drinking in the sight of your naked body spread out before him. "So damn sexy."

Positioning himself between your thighs, he rubbed the swollen head of his cock teasingly through your slick folds. You whimpered, trying to push your hips up to take him inside, but he held you firmly in place.

"Patience, mami," he chuckled wickedly. "We've got all night."

All you did was roll your eyes, perhaps he hadn’t fully realised that they actually didn’t, not with your family in the house.

And then with one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched you deliciously around his thick length.

Oscar set a hard, driving pace, pounding into you with deep, forceful strokes. The bed frame creaked ominously beneath you, but you were too lost in the overwhelming pleasure to care.

"That's it, take that big dick," he grunted, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. "Fuck, you feel amazing."

Your moans grew louder, higher pitched, signaling your impending release, soon muffled by the palm of your hand. Oscar knew just how to touch you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub.

"Come on, baby, let go," he coaxed, his own rhythm starting to falter as he chased his own climax. "Wanna feel you come all over my cock."

And with a few more well-placed thrusts, you went tumbling over the edge, your inner walls clenching vice-tight around him as ecstasy crashed over you in waves.

Oscar followed close behind, burying his face in your neck to muffle his shout as he spilled himself deep inside you with a few erratic thrusts. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting harshly as you gradually came down from your high.

"You did fucking amazing," Oscar panted, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-dampened skin. "Definitely worth the risk.”

You huffed a hushed giggle before covering yourself up with a blanket, everything feeling almost too good to be true.

Almost.

Just as you were catching your breath, the bedroom door swung open. There stood your mom, her expression caught somewhere between shock and disappointment. Your dad wasn’t far behind, his arms crossed over his chest. Mario and Ruby peeked over their shoulders, eyes wide as the dinner plates they had in hand.

For once, Oscar didn’t have a slick comment, or that signature smirk on his face. He jumped up, pulling his shirt back on, his usual swagger replaced by something resembling sheepishness. “Uh, Señora Martinez,” he started, extending a hand to shake out of decorum, but decorum was far gone at this point.

Ruby blinked profusely, his gaze flickering towards Oscar’s hand, “Uh, dad, I don’t think you’d wanna shake that hand judging off of..” Ruby trailed off, clearly judging his sister underneath the blankets, but your dad cut him off with a pointed look, ignoring Mario’s hushed snicker.

“Don’t bother,” your dad said evenly, his harsh, but ever the disappointed look cut to Oscar, “Just leave.”

Your mom, ever the diplomat, sighed heavily. “Spooky, por favor,” she said, gesturing toward the window. “I don’t want to throw you out, but… actually, no, I do. Out. Now.”

You buried your face in your hands as Oscar shuffled toward the window, amusingly muttering something about how “this isn’t how I planned the first meeting with her parents to go.” With one last look over his shoulder, he gave you a quick wink before slipping out the way he came in.

The room was quiet for a moment, and then your mom let out a loud, exasperated groan. “¿Qué vamos a hacer contigo?” she muttered, shaking her head as she closed the door.

Mario broke the silence next, snickering as he said, “You’re so grounded.”

And just like that, the lecture began.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of long fics at least 50k in length as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here

- Louis / Harry -

⊹ All That I Could Never Lose by Chelsea Frew / @chelsea-frew

(E, 145k, canon divergence) One Direction takes on "The X-Factor" with a twist: Harry Styles was born blind.

⊹ Own the Scars by @crinkle-eyed-boo​

(E, 144k, addiction au) After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth.

⊹ Undone, Undress by @angelichl

(E, 134k, PTSD) Louis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

⊹ The Dead of July by whimsicule

(M, 117k, Avengers au) Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

⊹ And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

⊹ a cycle of recycled revenge by brokenbeaks / @broken-beaks

(E, 103k, historical) In the heat of summer, wreathed by pastures, rolling knolls, and thatched-roof cottages, Louis takes on a new job: caretaking for a recently blinded man named Harry. As it begins, what seems like a simple task turns into a quest that costs him every last bit of his pride and tolerance.

⊹ Consequences by @allwaswell16

(E, 78k, amnesia) Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

⊹ You (series) by bravestyles / @bravestylesao3

(NR, 76k, cancer) Harry has cancer, and Louis can't breathe.

⊹ Thrill Seekers by SunnAfternoon

(E, 74k, comatose Louis) The one where Louis is in a coma but really he’s in a pirate adventure.

⊹ Tastes like Gold by Ravenmyre / @ventracere

(T, 73k, blind Louis)  lot of musicians dream about making it big and Harry is no exception. He has all the pieces to build a rocket ship to the music industry, but he’s missing the key. The songwriter. Ft. overbearing mangers, stunts, and a grumpy Louis Tomlinson.

⊹ Down to our bare feet by frenchkiss

(E, 71k, paralyzed Louis) The story of an ordinary couple living through extraordinary circumstances, featuring wheelchairs, home renovations, intensive rehab, fighting, laughter, tears, ring shopping, and above all, two boys determined to love each other no matter what.

⊹ What if I'm someone you won't talk about? by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992

(M, 58k, sick Louis) Harry and Louis were childhood sweethearts who lost touch when Harry shot to fame and became part of the biggest rock band in the world. They never really broke up and seeing Louis again makes Harry want to dredge up the past but what happens when Harry realizes that his first flame never died? 

⊹ i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) by thedeathchamber / @louehvolution​

(E, 55k, angst) Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

⊹ From This Moment On by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(NR, 52k, PTSD) Louis Tomlinson needs a tour photographer, and he thinks he's found the one in the mysterious H on Instagram. Harry Styles swore he'd never do tour photography again - that is, until he did.

⊹  No One Does It Better by nodibs

(E, 50k, amnesia au) Harry's an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn't the first time they've met.

⊹ Don´t let the world by Truhe3

(E, 50k, uni) Harry has epilepsy, Louis feels a little lost, all the boys share a flat, take care of Harry when his condition is getting worse, Larry happens and also a lot of OT5 friendship stuff. And a small Liam side story.

- Rare Pairs -

⊹ Saving Harry by alliecat23784

(E, 126k, Niall/Harry) Niall is blind, has been all his life. However this isn't a story where Niall gets bullied and beaten up. Just the opposite. Niall isn't a victim and doesn't have time for anyone who thinks of him as one. He's loud, funny, a bit sassy and sometimes obnoxious. 

⊹ Everything Comes Back to You by JamieJam93

(T, 98k, Zayn/Liam) Of course, just when the two are rekindling their friendship during their last year of secondary school-and Zayn finally feels like he's at a place in his life where he can potentially move on and fall in love with someone else-Liam gets sick again, and everything about the past comes knocking into Zayn like a ton of bricks.

[anonymousbardd]

Over The Sunset - FT. Hermes x FemReader

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "Your slow loving makes me feel so obsessed with you."

𑄽𑄺 Content Contains: xFemreader, fluff, swearing. This story is based off of the series, Blood Of Zeus - ¡Please do not repost without crediting!

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "All my life I and the world had been moving at a fast pace, but everyone always seems to slow down whenever I'm near you."

[F/n] is a young maiden who lives in a small poli, she used to live in a much larger economy, but her previous home was destroyed by a big group of bandits and hoarders. Now, she lives in a small village that the survivors built.

During the hard times, [F/n}'s family were the ones who helped everyone, they were the ones who gathered resources, and food, and they helped with the injured.

The village had a voting session to decide who would lead their newly rebuilt home, and it was no brainer why all of them chose your family. At the time, [F/n] was still an unborn fetus, and by the time she was born, the whole village had dedicated that day to celebrating their new life and home.

The young girl grew up to be polite, humble and kind, just like her parents. The villagers adored her, calling [F/n] the village's white rose. The young girl had a heart of gold, was sensitive, and felt empathetic towards the poor souls who had passed away. [F/n] would pray to Hermes, she would pray for the safety of the undead.

[F/n] would visit Hermes' nearby temple and would make offerings to him.

One morning, the village's white rose now grew into a beautiful maiden, it was a lovely morning, [F/n] was making her way to the nearby river to collect some water, when all of a sudden, she heard screams of terror from her beloved villagers.

[F/n] ran towards the sounds of agony, her heart raced inside of her chest as her mind showed different horrific scenarios. Once she finally arrived, she noticed that the cries and screams were coming from inside.

She rushed in only to find a dimly lit cave, on the ground where some of the villagers bleeding out, a little girl was crying, [F/n] ran towards the young girl and held her in her arms. Then, in the dark, a figure rose and began to swiftly attack the young girl and [F/n].

The young maiden then took a rock from the ground and began throwing it at the Kere, all whilst she hid the young child behind her, she managed to land a decent hit on its head, causing it to fall back into the shadows.

[F/n] then turned to the young child and made sure that she was okay, [F/n]'s legs were already bruised and wounded, so she wasn't able to run away, "Leave this cave... Hurry and run back to the village!" [F/n] said, "B-but.., I can't leave you here!"

[F/n] smiled and placed a hand on the girl's cheek, "Worry not about me, save yourself," she said, and with that, the young girl ran out of the cave and back to the village. [F/n] knew that if she stayed any longer she would end up being feasted upon.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and the young maiden then decided to pray for the two dead bodies on the ground, as she did, she felt a gush of wind brush against her face.

Then right before her, a tall man with fair skin appeared, his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and his hair was in a braid, he took off his helmet and looked down on the ground to see the dead and [F/n].

The young maiden knew that the man was too big to be an ordinary mortal, "Wh-who.., who are you..?" [F/n] asked quite frightened, the tall man chuckled and kneeled down.

"Well that's quite disappointing... As my devoted follower I would thought that you would have at least a bit of a clue who I am."

He than hovered his hand on top of the dead villagers and began to harvest their souls, he looked at [F/n] and smiled, only then did the young maiden realise who it was.

The man in front of her was no other than Hermes, the god she's been praying to all her life.

Just as the tall man stood up, [F/n] lifted her body and warned him, "Wait! Careful, there's a Keres lurking in the dar—..,"

*shing!*

In a blink of an eye, the Keres from before was cut in half, Hermes' reaction was quick and beyond mortal abilities.

[F/n] sat there in shock, the god then reached out his hand for the young maiden to hold, "Come, let me help you out of here," he said with a smile.

The young woman then held his hand, and without struggle, he carries her in a bridal way.

[F/n] felt her heart pounding inside of her chest, her facd felt hot as she looked at the god who's carrying her. Not a second later they were outside Hermes' temple, the god gently placed her down and looked at her wounds.

"Wait here, I'll be back," he said looking up at the young woman, not even 10 minutes later, Hermes returned with clean cloth and a bucket of water.

[F/n] watched as the god dipped the cloth in water and began to gently dab it on her wounds, causing her to wince in pain. "Bare with me for a bit.., I know it hurts..." Hermes muttered.

The young maiden moaned, her legs were aching, she then looked at Hermes who was currently focused on her injury, "Do you usually do this for those who worship you?" [F/n] asked.

Hermes smiled warmly and looked up at the young maiden, "I do not, consider yourself special," he said, [F/n] felt her face heat up, she then looked away, the sun was already setting.

[F/n] looked back at Hermes and hummed, he was already wrapping up the wound with more clean cloth, "Why..?" [F/n] mumbled, Hermes looked up and hummed, "Why did you save me..?" She asked, "What do you mean?"

[F/n] looked down and sighed, "Compared to you, I am but a young woman... I haven't done anything to be blessed enough to get saved by a god..."

Hermes looked at her for a second and laughed, he sat down on the ground and rested his arms on his knees, "You, my dear, are truly one funny girl," he chucked.

Hermes then stood up, offering his hand to [F/n], to which she accepted.

He then brought her to the top of a mountain that perfectly viewed [F/n]'s village. Hermes held her close to him, making the young maiden feel secure, "You see this village? It's a small poli that your parents helped to grow... And you, a daughter of those with noble hearts, did the same."

[F/n] looked at him, slightly curious. She knew what Hermes meant, but she wanted to know what he'd say. Hermes turned to face [F/n], "You cared for the weak, praid for those who had fallen, and you helped with the village's troubles.., you, darling, are a lovely person."

Hermes smiled and looked out to the horizon, watching the sun slowly fall, "Ever since you started to visit my temple... I can't help but admire you for your kindness, you're very thoughtful... Everday you give me generous offerings, I can't help but feel flattered."

The god then turned to look at [F/n], "Sweetie, you're such a humble person, and on top of that, you're kindness makes me admire you more and more, I find myself looking forward to your presence for whenever you visit my temple again."

Hermes kisses the back of [F/n]'s hand, "I can't help myself but fall for such a charming woman..," he then looked up to see [F/n]'s red face, the way she looked told him everything.

Hermes then slowly pulled himself away, "Though I may know more about you... You don't know much about me... Worry not about that.., I'll gladly take my time and take things slow with you," he smiled, tucking a hair behind [F/n]'s ear.

𑄽𑄺 Blood of Zeus needs more appreciation honestly... Sorry for being inactive, I've been busy hanging out with my family hehe.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[wintersera]

17 — round 2 (half written)

cw: smut, omega sub!minjeong, dom!reader, elements of ABO (omegaverse)

wc: 1k

6am.

6am and minjeong was not looking too good. that uncomfortable, tingly, aching sensation between her thighs unfortunately woke her up from one of the best rests she’d ever taken.

no matter how hard she tried to suppress her heat, nothing worked. at all. meditation would be the best thing for her to do, but i mean, she’s dealing with her first ever heat and her animalistic mind couldn’t conceive any other thoughts- you could say that her head was occupied, and i mean occupied, with nothing more than rough and hard sex, with you specifically. even staring at you would instantly turn her on till the sheets would be sticky with slick.

in her state of vulnerability, she shook you hard to get you to wake up, not even thinking about your well being whatsoever. she just really wanted you awake, to obviously bend her over and fuck her rough like you did previously last night.

“wake up y/n, wake up” violently shaking you before giving up moments later.

she had to deal with this on her own, but alas, she couldn’t understand how to use her fingers herself, and the only way to toss aside her pains was you, clearly.

you were sound asleep. actually, you were dead asleep. after over exhausting yourself and going beyond your capabilities, it made a lot of sense to why you passed out after you sent your last tweet.

it was painfully silent. minjeong’s rapid heart beat rammed against her chest; her palms clammy as she proceeded to lift off the thick sheets that laid on your resting body.

was this a good idea? maybe not, but whatever, she had to have your fingers and nothing could stop her from using you as her little play thing.

minjeong took your hand and gently laid it on top of the sheets, occasionally glancing towards your face just to check for signs of you stirring awake. your arm fell with a dull thud, minjeong winced at the sound, even though the noise wasn’t loud enough to wake you up.

then she positioned herself, your hand between her legs. minjeong didn’t really know what exactly to do.

“mmm… morning…. huh?” you woke up abruptly. immediately minjeong sprung back out of surprise, her hand resting on her chest as she felt her own hearbeat, checking if it didn’t stop from the shock.

“m-morning” she shyly squeaked out “sorry, just felt-“

you cut her off “tingly again, right?” voice sort of low and husky. although you were barely awake, your body responded to hers. it was kind of like you both were in sync “gimme a minute jeongie, need to wake up for this'' you stretched in her bed before you got up, realising that your arms sort of ache from all the work you put in last night.

“need you now” she growled, grasping your arm and tugging you closer.

“be patient minjeong, let me-” returning the favour from cutting her off, minjeong stood up from the bed to push you back down. her now straddling your waist with a cheeky grin slowly appearing.

“please” her eyes grew a dark red again, like it did the night before. that's when you knew you couldn’t deny her orders.

“are you naturally this horny?” holding her hips and making her press her cunt against your bare stomach.

“naturally” she responded with a mewl. minjeong placed one of her hands on top of yours, indicating that she wanted them off

“in… please” she begged.

“oh cute. you’re lucky it’s a weekend and you’re lucky that my parents aren’t that strict” you chuckle, taking your hand off her hips. she seemed pretty desperate, and well you being gay ass kwon y/n, you couldn’t deny a pretty girls request, even if you didn’t know her like that at all.

you easily flipped her over in a swift motion, cushioning her head and ensuring that she’s comfortable with the position. it was you on top of her again.

“want it that badly?” you teased her. a smug smirk on your face. you couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about her that made you feel so oddly power hungry. just her being under you felt liberating.

“need it so much” the only thing she could say before you slid three fingers inside her cunt. minjeong gasped at the sudden stimulation. for her, it felt relieving. the tingly, achy feeling subsided and was replaced by waves of pleasure.

“you’re such a handful minjeong” you breathed out, swooping down to kiss her neck. she hums in approval, letting you graze your teeth against her sensitive skin.

you push your fingers even deeper inside of her, searching for the spot that made her feel the best. you think you did a good job, her mouth falling open each time you hit that specific spot. her moans gradually became louder and louder… even more louder. with the sounds from her wet pussy and the added on moans, the need to finger her harder was stronger than ever.

minjeong shuddered. her grasp on your arm turned into a painful grip as she kept your hand still while she shut her legs. a harsh moan came from the back of her throat while she cried out your name numerously.

—

back to reality.

you stood in minjeong’s bathroom questioning what had happened in the last twenty four hours. it was a saturday morning as well, which meant that you had the time to reflect on your sinful actions. it’s not like you regretted it, okay maybe you did a little bit. you could’ve gotten to know minjeong a little better before you did that.

you splashed yourself with cold water. shivering as you pat your face dry. unfortunately you slept in your clothes you wore yesterday too. eugh, you felt icky.

just what on earth had happened. somehow you ended up here. with a girl. in an empty house. no parents, no one. just you and her.

to make matters even worse, minjeong was still violently horny. maybe she should get that checked out you thought to yourself.

but now, you had to get an explanation out of her.

or ask to leave.

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[ferigrievous]

when hell freezes over.

⊹ ࣪ in which touya todoroki finds himself.

a.n touya todoroki they could never make me hate you touya todoroki

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; one – 2004 (here) ; two – 2006

touya todoroki was four years old when his quirk developed.

he was not a child born out of love. enji todoroki married out of desperation, an unyielding desire to surpass the current number one. a desire that not only ruined his relationship with his wife, but his children after that. a fire burned bright inside of enji, a fire that left no room to warm the icy relations he harboured with his family

touya’s training began almost immediately, a harsh regimen that demanded more from the boy than his young body could handle. hours not spent eating or sleeping, were spent attempting to foster his newfound quirk.

a quirk his body could not handle.

parents are often overjoyed when their children develop their quirks, proud of the future they now possess as a powered individual. but enji, enji felt nothing but failure and regret when he realised his only son could not manipulate ice the way his mother could. a failure, he would tell him, a disappointment to the todoroki name. nevertheless, he persisted with training, pushing touya further and further everyday.

in the dead of winter, touya found himself on the brink of exhaustion, the world spinning around him as he crawled on all fours, desperate for a break. he felt cold, so unbelievably cold against the biting wind, his flames doing nothing for him in terms of warmth. his father’s voice, sharp, and demanding, rung in his ears, urging him to push harder, to be stronger.

he couldnt do it.

in a fit of anger, he was left, alone, on sekoto peak, with nothing but his weak flame and the stars above to guide him.

“you shouldn't be out here.” a voice spoke. he wondered if he was hallucinating, collapsing on the grass and curling up in a ball. “its too cold.”

he stifled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. his weak flame danced in the wind, threatening to give out at every gust. “i have to train,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “my dad says i need to be strong.”

for a moment, silence enveloped them, the only sounds being the faint sound of crickets, and the soft crackle of touya’s struggling flames. he felt a hand on his cheek, warm to the touch. he didn't know there were physical hallucinations. he’d have to ask his mother about that when he got home. god, would his father let him in?

his eyes opened, wide, and glistening with tears. the hand was real, so real against his skin. the warmth from your touch was new, and never in his life had he ever experienced something quite like it. he leaned into it, a choked back whimper escaping his lips. he wanted more, so much more of that warmth, he could practically feel it seeping into his skin. touya had forgotten what it was like to truly feel warm.

“but you’re just a kid. you shouldn't have to train so hard.”

the voice’s words were a revelation to touya, a concept so alien it felt like a breath of fresh air. he was more than a little surprised when he came face to face with a child his age, wearing nothing but pyjamas in the cold. 

touya couldnt help himself.

he took your hand in his own, holding it against his face, desperate for the warmth. it had been months since anyone treated him with such kindness, treated him like a child, instead of a tool. a person instead of a weapon. treated him like a child.

“what’s your name?”

your voice was soft, softer than any he had ever heard before. without thinking, he pulled you down with him, cold hands wrapping around your wrist in an attempt to feel. “touya.” he’d tell you, watching as you splayed your arms out on the grass below.

the sincerity in your eyes made touya feel.. safe. a foreign concept to him, but something he knew he could always find in you. he snuggled up closer to you, throwing all ideas of a personal bubble out as he seeked out the warmth you seemed to emit.

“what’s yours?”

you told him your name, no louder than whisper, and you watched as he tried it out, stretching each syllable and letter out as if it was a foreign word. rolling over, you laid your hand around his middle, seeking warmth where there was none.

touya leaned into you, seeking your touch. his small body trembled with the cold, his flame dying as he curled closer to you. the warmth from your body was a stark contrast to the ice biting his skin. no one was ever gentle to him, ever warm to him. a soft sob wracked through his body, his hands clenching the material of your shirt.

“why’re ya’ here?” he asked suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could really think about what he was saying. his body was stiff in the circle of your arms, not being used to the contact. but in his childish mind, the touch itself was wonderful. warm.

he hoped you weren’t a hallucination, that this dream would not be cruelly snatched away from him once he woke up. no, he wanted to stay like this, stay where it was warm and soft. he tried to press himself closer to you.

“‘m stargazin’.”

“stargazin?” he repeated, tilting his head to the side, causing the fire still faintly lit by his side to bounce back to life, dancing and illuminating the planes of his face.

he glanced up, watching the stars dot across the night sky. a frown tugged at his lips at the sight. it was cold, bitter. the stars were pretty, but that’s all they were. pretty, distant and alone in the dark emptiness of space. tilting his head up properly now, he watched as the stars glittered above them, stretching as far as the eyes could see, some dim, some brighter. 

“what about that one?” he pointed at said star, a small frown on his face. “it’s brighter than the others.”

you followed his gaze to a bright star in the middle of the sky, twinkling sporadically. “that’s the north star.” you murmured. “some people call it sirius. i… think they’re the same thing.”

his eyes widened. he’d heard his mother talk about the north star before, a guiding beacon that always pointed north. he found it interesting how something so small could do something like that.

”it always points north?” he asked, rolling over so he could look at you instead of the stars. “how can it do that?” he paused. “does it get lonely being up there, by itself?”

“i dont think it does.” you turned to face him, taking in his bright, blue eyes. “look at all those stars. would you get lonely with all those friends around?”

a small pout formed on his lips, his face scrunched up in thought. no, he wouldn’t be lonely, not if he was friends with that many stars. he was quiet for a moment, contemplating that idea.

“are you friends with the stars?” he asked, turning to look up at the sky again, watching as they twinkled in the night.

you nodded vigorously, turning along side him to observe the night sky. the stars were clear from where you two lay on the mountain. the moon was full, tonight, peering down at you from where it sat in the heavens above.

after a moment, touya spoke, the words sounding like they were forcing themselves out of his mouth “...do you think i can be friends with them too?”

the question had left his lips before he could stop himself. in a state of vulnerability, he spoke his mind, something he never did. he waited to be ridiculed, for you to laugh in his face and tell him he was being stupid. instead, you were quiet.

he was just a boy, you thought. a boy who should be at home right now, playing with his toys after a good dinner, or watching cartoons curled up on his parent’s lap. a boy who you found crying in the dead of winter at midnight, alone.

“do you wanna be my friend?”

 a part of him wanted to cry, wanted to sob and press himself so close to you and never let go. a part of him wanted to tell you just how desperately he wanted that.

but that part was shoved down viciously, a cold, bitter hatred settling over him.

”i don't need any friends,” he said harshly, forcing his eyes away from your face, and in an instant, the boy you found just moments earlier, was gone.  “i just want to grow stronger.”

you were speechless, blinking at the sudden change of tone. one moment he seemed desperate for validation, and the next he was putting up a wall of cold indifference.

you knew you shouldn’t interfere, that you should just walk away and let the boy wallow in his training. but your heart ached at the thought, at the way his expression shifted from vulnerable to bitter in a matter of seconds.

”you don't have to be angry. you can have friends, and  be strong.” you said softly. “im sure all might has friends, ‘n’ he’s the strongest.”

he paused. all might, the number one hero.

the man himself was so charismatic, so beloved by the public. touya didn't doubt that he had many friends, both heroes, villains and citizens. a frown tugged at his lips, realising that maybe his father was wrong. maybe he didn’t just have to train. maybe he could have time for a friend. or two.

”i dunno…” he said, avoiding your gaze. “i should just focus on training, thats what dad says.”

but then why did he feel so empty all the time? the only thing he focused on was training, training to make his father proud, to get stronger.

it wasn't fun, wasn’t joyful. some days he wondered if he’d ever be happy again, or if he’d be trapped in his father’s cycle for the rest of his life.

maybe he didn’t want that. 

”i…” he repeated, and touya sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. “i gotta focus on training.”

you almost sighed in defeat, watching as his eyes darkened. he was so young, still a child, and yet he seemed so grown up. you hoped you weren't like that.  the frown he wore looked wrong on his round face. you were so tempted to press the issue, but you knew it wasn't your place to do so. touya’s life was not yours to control.

but then he spoke again, almost as if the words were ripped from him, pushing themselves out of his mouth in desperation to find love.

“but.. its okay if its you.”

you paused, tilting your head as you rested on the cold grass on your elbows. an… exception? for you?

“i thought you didnt want friends.” you hummed, staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing in the world.

his frown deeped at your words, eyes narrowing. he’d hoped you’d say yes, no questions asked. he was sick of living a lonely life, a life full of empty training and sharp words. but you were right, he didn’t want friends before, so why was he asking now?

he didn’t want to admit that your presence was bringing back those thoughts. that your touch had woken something inside him, something that cried out for more, for more of your kindness, for more of your touch, for more of your words.

for you.

but he didn’t say that aloud. he couldn’t admit it, wouldn’t dare admit it. not when his father had drilled all his life that friends were a waste, that friends were a hindrance. not when he had spent years with a stone cold heart that refused to feel anything but anger and bitterness. not when he was just a four year old, and all he wanted in that moment was to bury his face in your chest and cry.

”i don’t,” he said, forcing his expression to be as cold and emotionless as possible.

“okay. ‘m sorry for askin’.”

he flinched at the way your voice softened in acceptance, the pit of his stomach twisting unpleasantly. there it was again, that guilt that welled up everytime he did something mean to you.

he didn’t want to be mean, he really didn’t. you’d been nothing but kind to him. but that bitter, dark part of his mind, a voice that sounded a lot like his fathers, kept hissing in his ear.

‘friends are for the weak.’ it would say. ‘they’re a distraction. you don’t need them.’

he almost took it back. he almost shouted, and screamed that he did, in fact, want friends. he wanted friends and kindness and everything he was never allowed to feel. he wanted to be a kid, for once.

but he remained silent, letting the quiet settle between them, a bitter feeling rising in his chest.

”whatever,” he muttered. “don’t be sorry.”

you werent friends. not when you walked him home that night, waving him goodbye as he stood there on his doorstep. not when you met up every week, in the quiet of night, to simply bathe in each other’s present. and you weren't friends when you brought him your toys, building castles with building blocks under the stars.

you weren’t friends, that was true. but in all reality, you were more than that. a friend would’ve left him alone, but you stayed. you indulged his fantasies and brought him things for him to play with, you stayed by his side and held him when he cried.

for a lonely child like touya, you were someone much, much more than a friend. he looked forward to those nights, those moments he could spend outside with you, far away from his father and his cold house.

it was enough for touya. knowing that he had someone to look forward to, that he had a place where he didn’t have to be strong. it was enough to know that he had someone who didn’t care about his father, or his quirk, or his talent. just someone who listened to him without judgement, without expectations on the child he should be.

he never admitted it, though. he never said to you that he looked forward to the nights where he could just be a child, carefree and happy.

you’d watch him, sometimes, in the big oak tree, while he trained with his father. you two never spoke about it, but you knew he could see you. you noticed when he began training harder, as if he was showing off to you. flames burning bigger and brighter. and, sometimes, you wondered if he’d accidentally burn the tree down while you were in it.

he wasn’t exactly subtle with the way he pushed himself, he knew you were there watching him. it was like he had something to prove, not just to his father, but to you. he wanted to show you how strong he was, how tough he could be. even when his body screamed at him to stop, to stop before he burnt himself down to the bone, he wanted to push on, convince you that he was getting stronger. stronger for his father, who beat him into shape night and day. stronger for his mother, for fuyumi, and his brother that was on the way. stronger for the future of a society he promised he’d protect.

stronger for you, so you would think of him as someone other than that weak, useless boy you found all those nights ago.

even as he stumbled and fell, face first in the dirt, he got up again. he ignored the harsh words of his father, focused on the tree, knowing you were sitting there, watching him as he worked himself to the bones. his body ached and ached, screaming at him to finally stop, to take a break. but he couldn’t, not while he still had you to impress.

and later that night, you’d offer him an onigiri from your house, holding your hands to his sore body and he’d relish the feeling of your quirk washing over him. he wasn't exactly sure what it did, but what he did know, was that it felt good.

your hands were cold against his cheeks, and he’d close his eyes as the ache in his body began to melt away like the first signs of spring. these moments were the only good thing to come out of training. the only time he’d ever feel relief from the harsh regimen he was put through, the only reprieve he’d ever receive from his father’s scathing words. 

he’d lean into your touch, the cold soothing the pain. it was the most peace he’d feel in his life, the only time he’d let himself relax, even for a moment. he craved the touch, longed for the brief coolness you gave him.

your presence alone was enough for him. even on the worst days, when he felt like he’d never be strong enough, never be the son his father wanted him to be, your presence soothed him. just knowing you were nearby, sitting in some tree and watching him struggle to make a large flame, made him feel better.

he started to think of you as his home. his safe spot, his peace away from his harsh reality. 

but still, he didn’t admit it. 

he never admitted just how much he needed you.

[finniestoncrane]

If you're still taking requests for the nsfw kinks please can I get:💣 - corruption: “and you said you’d never be caught dead doing anything like this. sounded like you were very much alive and enjoying it though” for Hancock? Thank Youuu

Hancock x GN!Reader, word count: 700 talk about corruption lmaoooo i'd be walking up to people with a geiger counter and asking them to swipe it over my lower half like "yeah guess what i've just done" ANYWAY i didn't go so literally, i wanted john to have some fun corrupting some diamond city sweetheart, so this ended up a lot more romantic than smutty (sorry!!) ☢️ request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, drugs mentioned, corruption, scent kink/marking kink, licking

It was less a way of consuming your body and more a method of marking, you realised, as Hancock's tongue dragged along the side of your neck once more. Almost every inch of you had been coated in his saliva, where he'd started at your toes and worked his way up, making brief stops along the way at the places he knew would send a tingle down your spine. It was careful, a level of expert employed in the seductive tasting that had all of your skin prickled with gooseflesh, hairs standing on end, moisture almost drained as your torso and face glistened with sweat and your cunt dripped in your slick.

The sounds he made, the appreciative moans, as though he were dining on fresh cram, something from before, something new and decadent, were enough to bring you as close to the edge as you could get. It only took a mischievous chuckle, his tongue pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers stroking slowly, deftly, over your clit, before you were trembling beside him, body contorting in ecstasy as you came.

As you came back down to Earth, bliss oozing from your skin, on your breath, scenting the air around you, you felt his arms pull you close. He was warm, his skin still dry despite the frantic rutting that had you sweating and which was now coating you in a clammy, chill susceptible layer. Sensing the drop in your temperature, he reached to the floor, producing his shirt which he wrapped you in.

"You'll smell like me now. Like Good Neighbour."

"And?"

You asked, but you knew what he was trying to say without using direct words. You were raised quietly, properly, in Diamond City. Wealthy assholes as parents. A desire to rebel had brought you to Good Neighbour, swearing that you were only there for a drink. Only there to experience life outside of the green walls. You and the friends you had travelled with giggled, excitement bounding through your bodies as you watched the people, so different to you, living their lives. One of your group made a comment about the bodies, what they'd feel like. Of course, you protested, you'd never go as far as to be with a synth or a ghoul. That was wrong. You'd been told that your whole life, and despite not believing it at your core, it was still a rule that had been hammered home often enough that you still couldn't imagine yourself breaking it.

"Not even him?"

They'd pointed towards the man, the ghoul, in the corner. His long red frock coat a symbol of his status amongst the rest of the drifters in the town. There was an energy to him, but you could hear the distaste, the disgust in your parents tone.

You had protested, and Hancock had overheard you, finding it a suitable challenge for the evening. It hadn't taken him long to woo you, and you'd found yourself quickly back in his quarters, his guards standing by the door, sneaking glances as their mayor railed the smooth skinned newcomer. A triumph over Diamond City.

Drawing you back to the present, hours after your first encounter, when you were so quickly infatuated and bedded by the charismatic mayor of the town you had snuck into, Hancock took a deep breath and pulled you in closer.

"And you said you'd never be caught dead doing anything like this, huh? Sure sounded like you were very much alive and enjoying it."

"More alive than I've ever been."

Your response was quiet, thoughtful, as you let the experience settle over you. Hancock spoke softly in return.

"They'll smell me on you. You can't go back to Diamond City now."

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

He shifted himself in the bed beside you, sitting with his back against the wall as he reached into the bedside table for one of the red inhalers you'd seen scattered around the place. With your head against his abdomen, you looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

"Stay here. With me. You give me another ten minutes and some jet and I'll be good to go for another round. We'll make a good neighbour of you yet, princess."

[liveontelevision]

Hi! im in love with your Lucifer fics. You newest one has me gripped and i cant wait for the next part.

You got me brainstorming more Lucifer fics ideas

I was thinking of one where the reader has been helping/supporting Charlie at the Hotel and is almost like a mother/parental figure to her, and when Lucifer arrives he acts cold/mean no matter how much she tries to be polite. But then he warm up to her after see how much the reader really cares about Charlie and then he finally realises hes in love with her.

♡

Thank you! I literally could write about him for hours (kinda have already) and I really liked this prompt, so here's just a lil' something for ya, anon ♡

Honey | Lucifer x Reader

No smut, just some cute fluff here-

♡♡♡

As soon as you arrived in Hell, your eyes were drawn to the drab-looking hotel just up the hill. And you flew to it like a moth to a TV screen. That being said, you've known Charlie and the other residents for as long as you've been dead. They've all seen you at your worst, having to be the unlucky few to explain your death. Although, Charlie's comfort really made the whole being dead thing much more palatable. During this time, while she's supported you, you've seen her through thick and thin as well. Pretty soon, you became an important part of her life, offering a more parental influence when she needed one. You didn't really die at an old age, but a lot went on in your lifetime to give you the maturity to comfort people that way and you were always happy to do it.

Considering your skill set, some of the residents went to you in the same fashion. A little task you took to, just to help out, was fixing up some articles of clothing for people. It was a great mindless task for you to do, considering Alastor wasn't a fan of having phones and TVs in the hotel. So you simply sat, humming a little tune as you fixed up something from Angel's wardrobe.

Your trance was broken, seeing a pair of slender legs in front of you. Following them up, you finally meet eyes with a nervous-looking Charlie. She's fidgeting with her fingers, still trying to find the courage to say whatever she came to you for.

"You need something, hun? You can talk to me, c'mere." With a sweet voice, you patted the cushion on the couch next to you and kept on working. She let out a heavy breath you didn't realize she was holding.

"Soooo... my dad is coming to visit and I - uh.." she still struggled to find her words. Considering you've barely been outside the hotel, you really didn't question how big of a deal Lucifer was. But to see Charlie getting flustered about a little visit from her own father did make you feel uneasy.

"I guess - I don't know, I'm just nervous, is all! It's not that big a deal, I mean, he's my dad, but also.. he's... my dad..?" You nodded your head.

"Seems like a big deal. He's the king of Hell, so it makes sense that you're nervous. Can I help with anything?" Acknowledging her feelings and making sure to keep your tone smooth, you finally set aside the mini skirt you were fixing up to face her.

"Oh! Um - I was wondering if you could bake something for everyone! Niffty's making cookies, but I think dad might enjoy something a little more.." You both thought back on the disturbing display of desserts Niffty had made for everyone in the past, it sent a chill down your spine. You nodded your head fast, taking a hold of her hands.

“Yeah, I'd love to! I'll make sure it's something your dad would like, too! How's that sound?" You absolutely loved to bake, and doing it for other people always made it even better. There was some pressure on you, considering who you were catering to, but remembering that this is for Charlie, kept any nerves at bay. Charlie, who just happened to be shedding a tear or two of relief, gave you a hug that would've snapped you in two if it had gone on any longer. You were used to those at this point.

The day went by fast, Charlie preparing and stressing over little decisions for her dad's visit. You got the OK to bake an apple pie. A specialty you would make when you were alive, you went all out. You'd always make the dough from scratch, soak the apples in a homemade cinnamon butter, and somehow managed to spiffy it up to a commercial extent. You were batting off Pentious and Niffy as best you could until he arrived.

You saw a side of Charlie during that visit that you haven't really seen before. She was nervous, sure, but it was clear she felt so defeated. Each little quip on sinners being hopeless or how Charlie shouldn't even bother in this "whole redemption deal" made you understand her paranoia more and more.

As Charlie introduced each of the staff and residents, Lucifer got distracted by the still steaming pie sitting on the table in front of everyone. He definitely wasn't the only one whose mouth was watering just by staring at it, but he was the one who bit the bullet, taking the first piece. 

"And this is -" a loud hum of satisfaction interrupted Charlie's introduction to Sir Pentious, who looked deflated at the change in topic.

"Charlie! Good golly - This is great!" With another bite and hum, you watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. A little boost of confidence immediately making you giddy.

"Oh! Well, that's good! Because this is our other guest! She made it herself -" Charlie took a hold of your shoulders and dragged you to face Lucifer. You could feel the nervous tremble coming from her hands. You looked up at her for a moment and smiled, placing a hand over top of hers. It really did seem to calm her nerves. And for some reason, he didn't seem to like that. 

"Well - I'll eat anything with apples since they're obviously my favorite. It’s not that special." He tossed the half-finished plate back onto the table and wiped his hands clean. He ignored you.

"U-Uhm.. yeah, that's - that's everyone, I guess!" Charlie stammered, not expecting him to turn such a cold shoulder to you. He spent his time examining you. Considering he didn't even care enough to learn your name at that moment, he sure was taking his time looking you up and down.

"Well then!" He clasped his hands together after finally tearing his eyes off you. "How about a little tour?" He suggested, clearly not invested in the other sinners now. Charlie looked down at you and you nodded, starting to clean up some little things around you. It was a nervous habit you had, but it helped to keep your hands busy and your mind off the insulting interaction you just had to endure.

Charlie took Vaggie's hand and went on to give the tour. Once they were out of sight around the corner, you slumped your shoulders letting out a groan.

"Short king's givin' you the cold shoulder, huh?" Angel leaned on the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

"Right? Okay, glad I'm not the only one who noticed that. Is something wrong with the pie..?" Looking over to Sir Pentious, who was licking the already empty pie tin clean, he quickly shook his head.

"Maybe's got a thing for ya." Angel teased, jabbing you with his elbow. You rolled your eyes, finally taking the pie tin from Pentious.

"He didn't even get my name, I'm sure that's not it. Whatever.. " you grumbled, taking any dishes you could to the kitchen to keep your mind from exploring that option.

The extermination day battle was here. You followed the armies who attacked the hoards of exorcists when they finally arrived. As the battle went on, you hated to admit it, you found yourself in awe watching Lucifer kick Adam's ass. The sight of his wings and the little V thing - and obviously his immense power, somehow managed to make you blush as you were attacking angels. Definitely a new sensation for you, with the bloodlust muddling your other senses, but it was easy to forget about it once the new hotel was renovated and everyone was finally settled in.

As everything went back to normal, you went back to helping Charlie with anything you could, drinking at the bar with everyone and generally things went back to the way they were. There was only one difference. Lucifer made the decision to stay at the hotel. It was commendable for sure, his change of heart to support Charlie through this change, but it only left you feeling conscious about everything you'd do when he was around. The underlying crush didn't help much. Or Angel's teasing about said crush.

You really did try, when you'd pass him the hallway, you'd always send him your most sincere smile. Or when you spotted him reading or working on anything, you'd try and spark any kind of conversation or ask if he needed help. He never needed help. He was always too busy to chat. You honestly couldn't remember a time he looked you in the eyes before. You bit your tongue. No need to worry Charlie, or anyone really, about some feud you possibly made up in your mind.

It was especially important to you to not stress Charlie right now. Starting the hotel back up was a big task alone, but the loss of Sir Pentious weighed on everyone. And Charlie took full blame for it. A late night, where she most likely stayed up to try and find any kind of hope for redemption, any speck of proof to bring sinners in, she found herself burnt out. Approaching the memorial for Pentious, you stood beside Charlie. You found her visiting it every now and then, and when you did, you knew she needed a check in. And you were right. Without a word, Charlie suddenly clung to you. She went on about how it was all her fault. How he was gone because of her. How nothing seems to be working and she's terrified that it's all for nothing.

It took a while for her to calm down, but you would never leave her like this. By now, the two of you had fallen to the ground, sitting on your knees.

"Charlie, you are doing your absolute best. It's okay to cry, you know that. Think of everything you've done for everyone else, I mean - Pen would've never sacrificed himself if it wasn't for his friends." You brushed a tear from her still wet and puffy eyes. "You did that. You gave him something worth dying for." It was a hard truth, but you hoped it was enough for her. She's done more for you than she'd ever know, and you'd do anything to give it back. You didn't realize, but before approaching Charlie, Lucifer was pacing a nearby corridor, battling the decision to go up to her himself. He hadn't said much to her since extermination day, and he had always been nervous about saying something wrong, making things worse. Before he had the chance to muster up the courage, you had swooped in. It confused him. He should've been jealous or hurt, that he wasn't able to calm her down himself. That you beat him to the punch. But he didn't really feel that way, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Was it admiration? Sitting in the shadows until he assured Charlie was taken care of, he went back up to his workshop, flustered for a number of reasons.

There was one moment, where things started to look good. It was a regular night at the bar, you, Angel and Husk had gotten on the topic of your lives, looking at the positives which was a rarity. Charlie and Lucifer were nearby, Charlie enthralled in the discussions of what Earth was like.

"My homelife? It wasn't anything fancy, but.. um.. - oh I had a farm, actually! I ran it with my parents, it was.. nice." You hold onto your arms, a bittersweet smile on your face. With a light bulb going off in Charlie's head, she nudged you with her elbow.

"You didn't happen to have any birds or chickens or ducks - did you?" She hummed. She noticed the wedge between you and her dad, and it hurt her just as much as it hurt you. She's little miss "everyone should get along", of course, this hurt her. You didn't notice, but Lucifer peaked up at you for a split second before distracting himself by swaying the drink in his glass.

"Oh..? Oh! Yeah! Yes, actually! We raised a few ducklings that a neighbor gave us - we got them as eggs, so we got to see them grow up and everything!" Going on, telling a story about how you snuck one into your room to keep it as a pet, only to be scolded for it. You had the whole group in the palm of your hand. Including Lucifer. You met his eyes for just a moment, the twinkle in them immediately drawing you in. With a quick smile, he became flustered. He scoffed, pushing himself away from the bar and leaving. As much as that should've infuriated you, seeing those eyes and the growing redness across the apple of his cheeks felt like a win.

Since the hotel was newer, and word hadn't gotten out about Pentious's redemption yet, it was still vacant beside you, Angel, and occasionally Cherry Bomb. That gave the whole group a lot of time to enjoy the large space in the meantime.

Certain nights, Alastor would play the large, golden, piano that Lucifer had so generously created. This led to Charlie singing along to whatever he was playing, of course, and when Lucifer was in a good mood - or drunk - he would even pitch in. He'd sit atop the piano, his legs crossed, as he hiked the matching golden fiddle to his shoulder and played along. It was truly a sight to see. His skills were unmatched, but it still seemed to melt into the rest of the contributions. It was as if he invented the damn thing (He did).

This sort of became a tradition, when everyone was in a good mood and Alastor wasn't getting on Lucifer's nerves too much, everyone would join in, singing and dancing. It was rare, but Damn was it fun when it did happen. One of these nights, Alastor started off with a song that you knew, and had actually introduced to Charlie. She gasped as soon as she recognized the tune, pulling you close by both your hands to sing along. You had as good of a voice as anyone did, in a musical rendition of Hell, but you mainly stuck to harmonizing little things with Charlie. Swinging around with each other, until you were dizzy and laughing, you noticed that the room seemed a little empty.

Lucifer was seated where he usually was, on his phone. His fiddle was placed carefully at his side, and he was scrolling through his goddamn phone. 

"Don't feel like joining us, Your Highness?" You kept to titles since it was obvious he wasn't warmed up to you just yet. Even after living with you for a month or so.

"Mm. Don't know the song. It's not my cup of tea, just can't seem to get into it." He says bluntly, never looking up to you.

“Oh, come on! Just play along, it’s just for fun!” You slurred your words a bit, whatever you had been sipping throughout the night causing, what you would call, an outburst.

“Hm! Well, I’m not exactly here for your entertainment, am I? God forbid a sinner doesn't have fun in their eternal punishment.” The room went silent. You felt so defeated. You've been trying since the day you met him to try and at least get on good terms with him, but it seemed like he would even prefer a night with Alastor over you. Things like this never bugged you much, you tried so hard to not let it bug you, but when Charlie looked over to you, with those worried eyes, it was hard to keep back the bottled-up disappointment.

With a little sniffle and a quick wipe of your eyes with your sleeve, you start heading back up the newly decorated grand staircase, without a word to anyone.

"Heyyy - Dad..! I think you maybe.. might've... I don't know - hurt her feelings..? Would you wanna - " Charlie carefully approached her father, who immediately lit up and placed his device down when she spoke. "Could you talk to her? Maybe just check up on her..?" She was speaking barely above a whisper.

“You have to apologize. Um.. sir.” Vaggie finally blurted out. His smile was nervous, his eye twitching a bit at the concept. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a sad little laugh.

"Well, uh.. I don't know, Kiddo, maybe she's just tired." He muttered, obviously hesitant at the idea.

"Sounds like the king can't handle a little damsel in distress to me. Would you like me to comfort her, my dear?" Alastor was quick to chime in from the piano bench, offering a sympathetic smile to Charlie. Why did the concept of that make Lucifer’s blood boil?

"Oh fuck you, bambi, I can handle it." With a quick hop off of the piano top, he almost stormed up the stairs to find you. Definitely not what Charlie was hoping to motivate him, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew Alastor had his reasoning for that. She mouthed a little thank you to him, once Lucifer turned his back.

You were ecstatic to learn that Charlie worked an extensive library into the hotel. Walking into its large double doors, you almost struggled to see the back of the room with how full it was. You had a little corner you claimed as your own, leaving one of your blankets draped on the little loveseat there, and setting aside a pile of books you were still working through. It was a great place to calm yourself down after what had just happened.

Hearing heels click against the tile, you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket as you pulled your legs up to your chest. 

"I'm fine Charlie, it's fine.. I just need a second, go back to the lobby." You shooed off the figure with one hand, wiping your face with the other.

"Ahha- Nope! Try again -" with a nervous chuckle, Lucifer greeted you with an awkward wave. Interrupting the silence by clearing his throat, he gestured to the seat next to you. With a quick nod, finally snapping out of your surprised state, you shifted your position to sit beside him. It wasn't exactly a two-person couch. Not for two people who might hate each other, at least. I mean it was a loveseat. He struggled to keep his distance, leaving your legs barely brushing together.

"Soooo.. you, uh- like.. reading..?" He asked after a long silence. You were mainly confused by his words, but simply nodded in response.

“Yeah it's - I-I love it in here.. There wasn’t anything like this on Earth, so this is nice." You managed to speak out, between sniffles. He agreed with a little hum, fidgeting with the ring on his finger.

“Glad you like it. It's uhh - just happens to be my personal collection.” He puffed out his chest, looking at his clawed nails with a little smirk on his face. He had no idea why he thought that would help, but it actually did a bit. when he looked your direction, you were slack-jawed in awe. The sight made him turn a bit red in the cheeks, quickly looking away, he patted the top of his legs to fill the silence.

“That's really cool! I guess it makes sense - considering you're older than the dawn of time- but, still. Thank you, I suppose. For letting me - I mean - us use it.” You rambled on for a moment your words became quieter the more you gushed.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” He asked between laughter. You made him laugh. You hoped he didn't see the sparkle in your eyes at the notion. You stalled, lost in thought, before quickly shaking your head.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the awkward silence sitting a little more comfortably than before. Finally, Lucifer let out a sigh of defeat. 

"It’s my fault, right?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, uh.. I guess so, but.. I mean, I'm kind of drunk so it might be something with that - but I'm fine, I swear." You waved your hands in an attempt to soothe the serious discussion. But Lucifer knew better than anyone what someone holding their true intentions back looks like.

"You're really good for Charlie. I.. I wish I could take care of her. Like you do." He admitted. It surprised you for a moment. Was that why he's been so cold to you? Was there some form of jealousy in there? Or was he really concerned that you would replace him in some fashion?

"C'mon, you're just saying that to make me feel better. I saw you on extermination day, none of this would even be here without that little pep talk, you’ve done more for her than you know, I think. Charlie.. she loves you." The words made him perk up a little. Maybe even a king needs reassurance sometimes.

"Oh- Um.. I guess she does, huh..?" You could hear his smile. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. You didn't even realize you had the smallest smile on your own face. But he did. With another nervous laugh, he hesitates before planting a hand on your leg, just above your knee. No time like the present, you suppose.

"I’m sorry. I really am. For.. everything. You're actually amazing. I-I mean it.." Without a response from you yet, he lets his gentle touch linger a moment longer. You leaned in towards him, the smile on your face turning sly.

"Yeah? You think so? I almost thought you hated me." You were teasing him. He's been so cold to you this whole time, you just had to take advantage of the moment. He turns a bit red, covering his mouth with his free hand as he clears his throat into his fist.

"Of course I don't.." He muttered.

"Soo, would you say you like me?" You drew out your words, walking your fingers up his arm.

"W-What? How - " He clamped his hand over his mouth before desperately trying to rationalize his thoughts, " Of course I do! I just said you're great with Charlie and I -ahh.. I love Charlie, so I like - " He coughs up his words, " - I liked your pie, that you made! And you have a good voice, too, and your little duck story was cute, so - " God bless this man's tendency to overshare when he's nervous. The alcohol definitely gave you the little boost of confidence you needed to question him like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn't notice his reactions to you whenever you weren't paying attention. Or whenever he thought you weren't paying attention. It finally dawned on you that some of those glares might have had some other motivations.

You knew when to reel it in, but considering his hand was still on your leg, he moved it up a bit even, you assumed he was okay with the teasing. Maybe even enjoying it. Delicately drawing your fingers across his jaw, to his chin, you pulled his gaze to meet yours. You could feel his hand tense at every little touch.

"You have really nice eyes, Luci-" He audibly gulped, tugging at his bowtie. "You’ve been avoiding looking at me for months.. I wish you'd look at me more." You almost pouted, your fingers still lingering under his chin. With the slightest movement, he followed your hand towards your face. He took his hand off your thigh for a moment, only for you to take a hold of it and place it on your back. He was the one who pulled you closer at this point.

“Y-you can't just say things like that.. it’s embarrassing..” He muttered, trying his best to not close the gap between your bodies. 

“Embarrassing? I’m not embarrassed, your highness. Are you? Do I.. make you nervous? Hmm?” You placed your hands just above his knees, leaning closer through your chest. Sucking in his lips, he did his best to stay silent, knowing he’d dig his own grave no matter how he answered.

“I just think you’re so pretty, Luci, I can't help myself.” Before he could properly react, you leaned in close enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. Damn, what did you drink? You could feel his hand on your back clenching, either to bring you closer or just out of sheer nerves. With a little hum against his ear, he let out the quietest whimper. It apparently took both of you by surprise, you leaned back to get a look at his face with wide eyes. Meeting his eyes this time sent you both into a blushing, nervous state.

With a deep breath, you cupped his face after brushing some of his golden locks back into place, then gave him the lightest kiss on his lips. You didn't even linger long enough for him to return it, and he was clearly distraught by it. You unwrapped yourself from your blanket, giving a dumbstruck Lucifer another quick peck on his forehead, before standing.

“I’m going back downstairs. Take your time, Hun!” You called out so sweetly as if you hadn't just left him a heated mess. 

Finally returning to the lobby, you walked with your chest puffed out, beckoning for another drink from Husk.

"Did.. did Dad check in on you? Are you okay?" Charlie carefully approached you, and was immediately disarmed by your grin.

"Yup! I feel much better now. He apologized and we had a little.. Discussion. Thanks, hun." You said sweetly, taking a sip of the drink Husk slid into your hand. Angel gave you a dirty glare, and after meeting his eyes you quickly looked away.

"Well great! Where is he? Maybe we can pick back up where we left off!" Charlie clasped her hands together enthusiastically.

"Here! I-I'm here! Great idea, honey, let's keep playing!" He tripped over himself, rushing into the room and hoping nobody saw him re-fastening his tie. Sending him another quick smile, his face clearly hadn't cooled from the past events. He nearly dropped his fiddle, but as soon as he prepared he picked up the same song that was left unfinished moments before.

♡♡♡

I wanted to get through some asks, but I'm still working on Suffer, no worries, my friends

!Taglist!

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[filmbyjy]

MINESTREAM

SYPNOSIS > Wanting to start a new stream series with his best friends, Jay had a bright idea of playing some simple Minecraft with them. Everything was normal, until he realises there is another person in the call with them. He quickly learns that it was ni-ki’s older sister, (name). Watch how streaming a simple game of Minecraft can dig up some interesting feelings between the main leads.

TWENTY-TWO – his lips looks soft

a/n: the day I see jay ever taking off his shirt in front of thousands of people, is the day I am dead👍🏻

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

somehow you find yourself in bed after accidentally falling asleep after lunch. you didn’t even know how you got here but at least you didn’t wake up with a painful neck and back.

you had rolled out of bed, it was dark out. you’ve probably slept for a total of at least 5-6 hours. best sleep in a couple of months you’ve had. your throat felt dry so you had decided to walk over to the kitchen. when you finally stepped off the stairs, you noticed the light was turned on. the aroma of something savoury fills the air.

someone stood shirtless in the kitchen as he stirs up the food. when he turns around, you realised it was jay.

…

WAIT IT WAS JAY???

you tripped on something and fell face first onto the marble floor. jay goes over quickly and helps you up and makes sure you’re okay.

“are you okay? any pain on your ankle? face? arms?” he asks quickly.

“i-i’m fine. just didn’t see the-” you had inspected the item you had tripped on. it was a doggy toy. you and ni-ki did not have a dog and as far as you knew…the 3 boys didn’t either.

jay looks over to where you staring. “ah, jake’s parents dropped his dog over earlier. since, this apartment allows dogs, jake wanted to keep his dog with him as close as possible.”

“oh.”

“I’ll warn jake about the dog toys.” you hummed. you had tried to stand up but a sharp pain stung your ankles. you groaned at the pain.

without a word, jay lifts you up and carries you over to the sofa. he places you gently onto the cushions and goes over to find an ice pack and also any oils/medicine for your ankles. once he’s done, he kneels right in front of your legs and gently lifts up the ankle that was hurt.

“ah.” you winced a little as jay puts some oil and lightly massages the area. he looks up at you once and apologises before taking his massaging much more lighter than before.

“it’s definitely twisted and swollen. just need to put an ice pack and let the swelling get better.” he places your ankle onto a pillow and puts the ice pack on it. “there, now sit there and- oh fuck, the food.” jay hastily runs back to the kitchen.

after a few sounds of clatter from the kitchen, jay emerges with the food he was previously working on. he places the bowl down in front of you. “there, we go. you didn’t have dinner yet so I thought of bringing this upstairs but you came down instead.”

the food looked really good. you didn’t think you’d be able to try jay’s food. “thank you.” before you could even lift the chopsticks, jay stops you and feeds you. he doesn’t forget to blow on the hot noodles.

you seemed to have forgotten that he was literally sitting in front of you half-naked. or maybe you didn’t, you just chose to pretend he was wearing a shirt.

“how is it?” jay asks as you chewed on the noodles.

“it’s good.”

“that’s great, it’s my mom’s recipe so this pretty much reminds me of my childhood. the smell especially.”

“then why aren’t you eating it?”

“oh, I ate it just now with the others. I just made it again for you since you were asleep just now.”

“oh…you could have woken me up when you were eating dinner with the rest. now, I feel guilty that you have to make it the second time.” you huffed.

“no, it’s really okay. i don’t mind making it again. after all, I’d like to take it as if it’s practice for cooking. the more you cook, the better you get.” jay explains. with jay’s words, you couldn’t help but pout. “don’t pout.” he taps your lips lightly with the chopsticks.

“okay. can i have another bite now?” you looked at him straight in the eyes. jay laughs.

“sure.” he picks up the noodles and blows it again before letting you eat it.

30 minutes later, neither you or jay realised the footsteps coming towards the both of you. it was clear there was a tension between the both of you as you two interacted. the person was clearly witnessing it. another footstep trails behind the person and comes to a halt.

*smack* “ow!” jake silently yells when sunghoon’s palm comes into contact with jake’s face. “what was that for?” he asks in a whisper.

“look.” sunghoon points out to jake. the shorter male peaks behind the wall and notices you and jay.

“it’s just (name) and jay interacting?”

“just interacting? do you see jay? he’s shirtless.” sunghoon says. jake rolls his eyes.

“we’re boys, obviously we’d be shirtless whenever we can. besides, you know jay likes to walk around the house shirtless.” jake glares at sunghoon.

“yeah but (name) doesn’t mind it. that’s the first girl that has seen jay shirtless.”

“but it’s not like he’s fucking her.” jake whisper yells.

just as sunghoon turns back to watch you and jay, he realises that the distance between the both of you was practically shorten in a minute. he smacks jake once more and gets him to look at what was happening in front of them.

jay leans in and so do you. it was about to happen, you were going to kiss jay. after what? 22 chapters? finally.

that is until…Layla, jake’s dog, comes running in. jake tries to catch her but ultimately falls onto the ground. the loud boom causes both you and jay to pull away from each other. both of your heads spun over in the direction of the sound.

“uh, hello.” sunghoon says. instantly, your face flushed. you’ve never felt this embarrassed being almost caught kissing someone. jay clenches his fist and stands up to go over to the two boys. he pulls them away to speak to them in private.

once they were out of the living room, you had hid your face behind your hands and groaned. you couldn’t even get up and go back to your bedroom since your ankles were injured. you just had to sit there and do nothing until jay came back. however, did you really have to wait for anyone to hide away from your embarrassment?

and so you grabbed the couch and tried to stand up on your feet. hopefully, you didn’t put too much pressure on the ankle that was swollen. you had hopped over to the stairs and attempted to jump up each step. until jay swoops and effortlessly scoops you up.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asks as he climbs the stairs with you in his arms.

“umm, to my room.”

“you could’ve called me or the boys to carry you up.”

“you three seemed to be having a heartfelt conversation so I didn’t want to disturb.”

he brings you over to your room and places you right on your bed, “not without someone to help you up the stairs. I already told you that your ankles are swollen, you can’t put much pressure on.”

“I know but-” “no, buts.” jay cuts in while you were talking. he tucks you into bed.

“now, I think you should try to sleep this off until morning. luckily, it’s still the weekends. it should get better by tomorrow or the day after just before you go to your morning classes.”

you huffed in defeat. jay pats your head and leaves your bedroom. you laid on your bed and closed your eyes. it was definitely an eventful day but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get some sleep. not after nearly kissing jay.

god, his lips looked soft.

you grabbed a pillow and squealed into it. you had to tell Yvette everything that happened the next morning. for now, you should at least try to sleep again.

well…at least.

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[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

OMG CAN YOU PLEASE DO DARYL AS A PARENT FIGURE???!!!?!! 😭😭😭

I HAVEN'T SEEN ANY LIKE THAT 😭

A/N: thank you so much for the idea!!! I hope this is okay!!! I was tempted to go full out and have him be an actual dad, but this’ll do for now. If you’d all like an actual story where Daryl’s a dad of the reader then please do lmk!! Also there are other Daryl father figure stories on my page so feel free to have a scroll!!<3

Synopsis: reader lost her family at the beginning of the apocalypse, she finally breaks and Daryl is there to comfort her.

Female! Reader x father figure! Daryl.

You were upset. Clearly. Like a ticking time bomb. You were staring down at the ground, the group had gone through a hell of a lot of shit to get to this point and the pain of losing people and seeing such blood shed welcomed in a new emotion for you. Pure agony. Agony that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The last time you felt it was when your family had been killed and turned into walkers. And losing all parental figures in one night was devastating.

“You good?” A voice came from the side and you glanced up seeing Daryl resting his shoulder against a tree crossbow hung over his other shoulder as he stared at you worriedly “I’m fine.” You murmured looking away from him, hearing him make a slight laughing sound as if he didn’t believe you “talk to me y/n…” he wasn’t one to ever push but he saw you were struggling. You remained quiet for a while just staring before you slowly looked at him before standing up “I lost my family… to the dead at the beginning of this shit show. They were ripped from me in an instant… sure my family wasn’t perfect but they all loved me and I loved them.” Daryl’s face contorted with sadness as he stared at you sadly. Oh how he wished he had a supportive family… he only really had Merle and the man was toxic as hell.

“I- I- seeing everything today it just brought back all the memories. Hearing my parents scream for mercy… seeing their blood… seeing how the dead ripped their faces off.” Tears were now streaming down your cheeks without you even realising as you let out a shaky breath. Daryl slowly got closer to you “I wanted to save them. I hated that I couldn’t save them… I- I- I needed to save them and it fucking kills me that I can’t go back and rescue them.. I should’ve done more… I- I needed to do more they needed me and I just stood there too scared and then I ran off and—“ your sobbing suddenly grew louder as then and there you broke in front of Daryl. He was the type you could trust. You wouldn’t of opened up like this to anyone else, maybe Rick, but Daryl was like a father to you. At the worst of times he kept you stable.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly “easy y/n.” He soothed holding you close to his chest. He rubbed up and down your back delicately “blaming yourself doesn’t get you anywhere.” He blamed himself over a lot of things so he understood but he knew it wouldn’t help anything. “Not your fault.” He spoke to you quietly as you sobbed into his chest, his grip on you was light at first before eventually he secured his grip on you tightening it as he pulled you impossibly closer “it’s okay…” You couldn’t focus though, only crying more as your hands weakly pushed against his chest, angry at yourself as weak cries continued leaving your lips Daryl keeping a protective hold on you, your hands continued hitting at his chest and he only held you closer to him “easy… breathe…” he soothed as softly as he could.

He dropped his free arm down momentarily so he could drop his crossbow down onto the floor before he pulled you closer to him again holding you tight “I miss my dad…. I miss my dad… I miss him so much.” Daryl’s heart broke for you and he held you closer, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head, his hand soon coming up to caress against the back of your head. “It’s okay.. it’s all going to be okay.. I’m here for you.” He didn’t dare let you go. You continued crying about missing your dad and he didn’t let go, he just held you, and as your sobbing eventually calmed down he pulled back slightly only to see you now clawing at his shirt to keep him there and he knew you needed him so he leaned in closer to you again.

“Your family would be so proud of you for how far you’ve come.” He murmured to you gently. “For killing people?” You murmured with a soft cry. “No.” He pulled back resting his hands against your shoulders “for surviving. We’ve all got to just survive somehow. Right? And you did just that…” he smiled warmly and you sniffled, before his hand came up to wipe against your cheek getting rid of the tears that lingered against your skin. “Look up.” He nodded up and you slowly glanced up at the dark night sky, twinkling stars shining down on you both. Daryl wasn’t the sentimental type to believe stars were lost loved ones but he could pretend for you… “they’re shining down on you always… proud and happy. Supporting you.” A small smile broke out on your face and you leaned into him, holding onto him tightly, “yeah…. Thank you… love you.” You murmured quietly without even thinking and he leaned down kissing your forehead. “Love you too sunshine.”