#idk if those pairs are tagged often but they will be now

[the-holy-ghosted]

his cheer squad

[megwritesriddles]

In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams!) ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 21 - Somnophilia. Riddle has to figure out a way to keep Reader happy and covering for his ever increasing duties outside of the castle. What initially starts as a transaction escalates when they're both more willing than he expected, leading them to explore the slightly more forbidden together.

Tags: Somnophilia (consensual), Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, Hand jobs, Oral sex (f and m receiving), Friends with benefits, Denial of feelings, SoftDom!Riddle, HeadGirl!Reader, Manipulation, Faking an illness (chronic fatigue is very real, he's just a lying POS, only briefly mentioned).

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 5.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Okay so despite this poll (sorry), I edited this into a less dark kinktober fic and will then release a much darker (non-con elements) part two after I finally finish kinktober!! This works as a stand alone if you're not into reading that kinda stuff (which I totally understand, ily dw)!! It just felt too dark for kinktober... even tho I literally have non-con as the prompt for day 25.... idk okay!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 2 COMING SOON !! (but works as stand alone)

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The moment the two of you had been announced as Head Boy and Girl at the start of the year, Riddle knew he had to get on your good side. Not only for the purposes of professional engagements and living in the same quarters but also because there would be a lot he’d need from you. Last year, he had found a flaw in the enchantments around the castle, discovering that apparition in and out of the castle was in fact possible, so long as you did so from the room of requirements. He has started attending to business outside of the castle regularly, rallying supporters in closed-off magical communities, among trolls and elves. He also searches for artefacts and researches dark magic when he finds the time, visiting isolated collections owned by old eccentrics who he is able to charm easily. He’s made himself a busy life outside of Hogwarts which he’s determined to keep up in order for his plans post-graduation to go as smoothly as possible. Which is where you come in. 

He leaves for these expeditions every weekend, but obviously, he’s not actually allowed to leave the castle. He has to ask you to cover for him if anyone asks where he’s gone. He concocts a rubbish story about having chronic fatigue and having to rest all the time he can, and that he can’t possibly be disturbed while he’s resting as he’s taking special potions for sleep. It’s all a lie, playing on your empathy, which he knows you have droves of, something you are widely admired for. He tells you that he’s horribly embarrassed about it and doesn’t want anyone to think he’s incapable of being Head Boy because of it, so asks you to cover for him if anyone asks about him. You give him those big sympathetic eyes and agree, workshopping a litany of excuses with him. He almost feels bad with how seriously you’re taking this, how much you want him to feel okay, even though you’ve never liked him much before. Almost. It won’t happen a lot either way, he’s told his ‘friends’ that he will be out of reach and very sternly told them not to question, so they won’t poke around, and anyone else who needs him won’t need him often. He makes a show of being very tired in the evenings in the common room the first few weeks you live together. Soon after, he drops the charade and you don’t seem to notice the falsification happening right in front of you, continuing to cover for him every now and then when it comes up. You even comment optimistically that he seems more energetic lately, to which he smiles.

“I suppose so, yes, it must be that I can finally get the rest I need, thanks to you,” he says smoothly, proud of himself for taking this as another opportunity to keep you pliable. You seem overjoyed to be helping.

In return, he keeps you sweet. At first, he merely observes you to get an idea of what might keep him on your good side. Then, he starts showing up for you. He brings your favourite pastries from breakfast (you have a bad habit of sleeping in, which sometimes makes him wonder how you got this job, but alas), accompanied by a coffee just how you like it. Complimenting you whenever you try a new hairstyle or dress up nicely on weekends. The first time he’d done it, he’d commented on a trim you’d gotten to your hair over the weekend in Hogsmeade. You were baffled, saying no one had noticed a thing all day. He sensed that you found the fact that he was the only one to notice odd, but he couldn’t help being observant. He told you as much, and you just smiled. He makes sure to do any favours you ask of him, so you can’t throw his refusal back in his face in case you want to stop helping him, he needs something to hold over your head. It’s never much, perhaps helping you with a bit of schoolwork, listening to a speech you’ve prepared for Head duties or just jostling the logs in the fireplace of the common room when the flames die down. He’s surprised you don’t ask for more, considering that he starts asking for a lot from you. 

His schedule outside of Hogwarts gets complicated, requiring him to head out occasionally in the middle of the week. You always cover for him, insisting to professors that he’s ill in bed, even though it’s clear by now that you’ve realised he’s actually missing during these periods. Your enthusiasm over helping him out has dwindled as you get the sense you’re being played, but he treats you well enough that you seem to assume the best intentions. How naive. Having someone so respected by the professors, the head girl herself, lying for him, he knows, is the only reason he’s been getting away with it for this long. He’s ‘sick’ far too often and never seen at the hospital wing, never requesting any medicine or showing any symptoms. He wonders what you think he’s doing when he’s away, doubting you could guess the truth, but you never ask despite your increasingly suspicious looks, which he appreciates. He likes you, you’re discreet, a surprising trait for such a goody-two-shoes as you are. He spends more and more time with you in the common room in his free time, charming you and winning you over, making sure he’s there if you need a favour or a ‘friend’ to talk to. He finds you to be intelligent and likeable, you’re funny, even if he prefers a bit of a darker humour than you have. There are silences as you sit together where you stare at him while he works on whatever schoolwork he deems most important that day, he knows you’re formulating all sorts of theories, your brain turning as you try to make a guess.

“I appreciate you being discreet,” he says simply one night as you sit together, working separately on assignments. The statement is followed by a silence in which he is tempted to look over at you to see your reaction but resists the urge.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me what you’re up to?” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a statement. You already know he won’t, and he knows it too. No matter how good you’ve proved to be about covering for him, if you knew the true nature of what he was up to, you’d run. Tattle before even letting him explain, which really wouldn’t help either way. He turns to you, extending an arm. 

“Come here,” he nods his head in his direction. You look confused, and he doesn’t blame you for feeling that way, he isn’t affectionate with anyone. He makes a point of never being seen as being soft, which is easy given he isn’t soft for anyone. But he knows the type you are, so sweet and kind, the type that you can be won over with a little affection. There’s no one here to see either of you anyway, he can risk it this once. You slowly scoot into his side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He brushes an errant strand of hair from your face and holds you to his side. “I really do appreciate it, I’m always here if you need anything from me,” he whispers. You look up at him and nod. “Good,” he hums. You spend the rest of the night pressed into his side as you do your homework, it’s odd, but he’s warm and solid, and most girls at Hogwarts would kill to be in your position, so you let it be. It becomes a fairly frequent scene, the two of you snuggled up by the fire, especially as the days grow colder and colder. His hands like to wander, brushing places they probably shouldn’t, but you never stop him or say a word, letting your own hands wander a little too. You don’t talk about it, not with him or with anyone else. You know without words that he doesn’t want it to leave the room. It’s just another secret you have to keep for him. 

He starts having the need for more frequent meetings with his little group of in-school followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, as his plans get closer and closer to their time of fruition. The Head Common Room is the perfect place to host, spacious and completely secret, except for from you. He knows he has to sweeten the deal once more to have you leave the common room for long periods in the evening. So one night, while the two of you study together snuggled up, he kisses you. You’re alarmed but immediately kiss back. He knew you would, every girl in the damn school would, but it still feels like an unexpectedly simple triumph. His hand grips your jaw, not allowing you to move away, not that you’re trying to. Your hand gently cups the side of his neck, keeping him close as his tongue carefully breaches your lips, slightly surprised by how willing you are for him. He has a multitude of things he’s considered doing to you, but for tonight, he has to stick with something focused on your pleasure. He doesn’t mind, pleasuring you is an act of domination in its own right. By the end of the night, he has you sat between his legs, your back to his chest as his fingers thrust in and out of you. You squirm and mewl in his ear, your head thrown back on his shoulder, as he holds you securely with an arm around your middle, fucking you on his fingers. He’s high off of the fact he has you completely nude apart from your socks before him, while he’s still fully dressed.

“There we go, darling,” he purrs in your ear, gently pressing his lips to your jaw. “I bet you’ve wanted this for quite a while, haven’t you?” he teases, grinding the heel of his palm against you as his fingers press in and out. You must have, given how quickly you’d let him strip you down, manoeuvre you into the position he wanted, just how soaking wet you’d been from a couple of strategic words of praise. He’d wrongly assumed you’d be a little more prudish, but he was pleasantly surprised otherwise. “I want you to do something for me,” he whispers, slowing his movements a little so you can focus on his words. You whine softly in protest and he smirks. “Tomorrow evening, could you make yourself scarce for… let’s say three hours? Starting from… six thirty?” his fingers caress your inner walls torturously lightly, almost tickling, making you squirm unhappily.

“Where would I go?” you exhale.

“Library? Walk the grounds? Astronomy tower? I don’t mind, darling, as long as you’re not here,” he kisses behind your ear softly. He expects some questions or protests, but none come, only a simple nod. He’s a little surprised how easy things are with you, although it may have a lot to do with how his fingers are currently buried deep in your cunt at present, he concedes to himself. But you’re always easy, always helpful, so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even though you were more than smart enough to know better. “That’s a lovely girl,” he smiles against your skin. He hesitates, unsure whether to reveal the transactional nature of his kindness toward you, but he feels he must assure you somehow that it will be worthwhile. “I’ll reward you accordingly, I promise. You’ll hurry back to me at nine-thirty, won’t you? I’ll be missing you by then,” he purrs, trying to further pull the wool over your eyes with some flattery. He straightens up to look down at you, your head still resting back on his shoulder. “Won’t you?” he prompts again, kissing your forehead. You nod, giving him a pleading look and bucking your hips helplessly. You want him to keep going, feeling half-insane from his unmoving fingers filling you up.

And that he does, finger-fucking you through two mind-blowing orgasms that night, showering you with ever more ridiculous praises as the night goes on. It’s unclear whether you’re losing your mind to the pleasure and not understanding him, or if he’s just spewing every compliment he can possibly think of. Once you’re thoroughly debauched, he helps you into your bed as your legs are too shaky on their own, laying you down and kissing you goodnight with a slightly stilted tenderness. You watch him in quiet confusion as he retreats from your room, feeling satisfied and yet completely confused. 

It becomes a bit of a routine, whenever he needs you to stay away from the common room, or otherwise go out of your way for him, he pulls you into his lap in the evening and tugs down your underwear, pleasuring you expertly. Soon, it becomes harder to tell, as he begins to get you off every night, whether he’s after something or not. You don’t know if it’s just his efforts to make sure you don’t forget to think of him positively, you’re far from oblivious to the fact you’re being bribed, or if he’s just enjoying it at this point. He stretches out your encounters more and more, especially when you start returning the favour, using your hand on him while he does the same to you. You’re pleasantly surprised how aroused he gets just from fucking you on his fingers, always at least half-hard by the time you can get your hands on him. When he introduces his mouth into the equation, you’re sure he’ll be asking something big of you soon. But he doesn’t, nothing new comes up, other than you also beginning to use your mouth on him. He seems to love it, so you suppose it must have been motivation enough. He likes to take his time, to make you feel helpless and desperate, not seeming to care if it leads him to spend long periods of time kneeling before you, which was something you were certain he would have never been caught doing for anyone.

It’s a nice relationship in Riddle's opinion, he gets off and he gets what he wants from you. You make yourself scarce and Riddle is able to conduct his meetings in peace in a perfect setting. Whether you’re using mouths or hands, it’s always intensely pleasurable. He grows attached to the sight of you on your knees before him, his cock deep in your mouth as you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes. You’re amazing with your mouth, and usually willing to get on your knees whenever he’d like you to. It’s a perfect arrangement in this way. He loves to hold you down and make you scream using nothing but his tongue. Some of his friends say that eating out a woman is demeaning, but he never feels more powerful than when he has you crying and begging. He loves to make you beg, long-forgotten is the fact he’s meant to be doing this just to keep you sweet, just to manipulate you into helping him. He’s lost in it now, and no matter how selfish he gets in bed, you keep covering for him, seeming to misinterpret him as generous rather than intensely power-hungry. It works well for his purposes, so he lets you think of him as a giving lover.

He’s a little surprised that you haven’t asked for any exclusivity or any indication of whether he’s bringing in other girls at the times he asks you to keep away. He’s not, of course, but he doesn’t understand why you don’t care to ask. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, but deep down it does bother him, every other girl he’d ever been involved with, even briefly, had asked to be his one and only. You’re a sweet girl, the type he assumed would fall in love with him the moment he first got his hands on (and in) you, but you haven’t indicated this in any way. He knows you’re not seeing any other men because he keeps an eye on you whenever he can. Even having gone so far as to cancel a meeting with a tradesman in Diagon Alley to stay back and watch you while you think he’s away. Nothing. You go about your day as normal, come back to the common room and curl up to read your book. Just before bed, you attempt to get yourself off and fail, pouting through your night routine. You can’t do it without him, he notes smugly. He wishes he could come help, but he can’t without revealing his spying. By the time he gets back legitimately, you’re fast asleep. Given all of this, he still doesn’t understand why you’re not asking him for a commitment. It’s not that he wants to commit to you, he doesn’t like the idea of being tied down, even if he currently has no interest or energy to pursue anyone but you, but the fact you haven’t asked drives him nuts. You seem happy to get off with him and go to sleep without asking a single question. He lingers in your doorway, watching your frame rise and fall under your blanket with slow breaths, wondering about you.

He’s surprised when you bring it up. How you’d felt his presence in your doorway while you’d been asleep, despite not being fully awake. He explained that he’d been wanting to help you out (his own evasive phrasing) but that you’d been visibly asleep so he’d left instead. At your expression, he asks you teasingly if you’d have liked him to do it anyway, his teasing smirk only growing when you blush and nod. And so a system was set, he tells you to sleep on the sofa in the common room if you’d like his attention during the night, as he has a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to fetch water. You agree and you proceed together like normal for the next few days, pleasuring each other in the evenings when he isn’t busy. Every night, even on nights he wasn’t actually waking up naturally, he would come into the common room to check for you. For a long time, you’re not there, and he’s a little frustrated with you. Why dangle such a tantalising idea in front of him if you never meant to go through with it? He’d been a perfect gentleman, telling you that you could say no if the idea made you uncomfortable, but at the time, you’d seemed apprehensively excited about it, yet now, nothing. His eyes stay glued on your door as he goes about getting his water each night, wishing he could go in there. He tries his best not to show his disappointment when he spends time with you in the daytime, not wanting to come off as pushy and drive you away. He needed you to like him, staying on your good side was non-negotiable and pushing you on a matter like this was generally frowned upon. About a week and a half later, he trudges from his room to top up his glass and sees a lump under a blanket on the sofa. It’s you.

He immediately slows and lightens his footsteps, not wanting to wake you as it would ruin the fun. He hadn’t had time for you the last four days, between increasing stakes when it came to schoolwork and closing in on a magical artefact outside of it, he’d been gone for everything but class and sleep. He creeps over to you, seeing your peaceful face squished against the velvet throw pillow. You must have missed him, he thinks, since you started your little mutual arrangement you’ve never gone more than two days without each other before, mostly because Riddle found himself quite insatiable. He’d always told himself he was uninterested in matters of the flesh, that he enjoyed indulging but could easily control himself, and that he was only doing what he was with you to manufacture a sense of closeness and keep you in the palm of his hand. Yet, he had to admit that he doesn’t usually go so far for the purposes of manipulation and that he never would have done this in the first place if he hadn’t found you attractive. He was unwilling to sacrifice his own happiness for his manipulation, beyond a bit of necessary flattering drivel. So when he’d allowed himself into this arrangement, even simply under a pretence, he had quickly lost control of it and become ravenous for the sensations you could offer. He watches your parted lips as you breathe softly. Gently, he rolls you onto your back, waiting to see if you wake. You don’t. He slips the plush blanket down your body and exposes you to his eyes. You’re dressed in a sweet feminine nightgown and he finds the look to be sweet on you, fitting. You were a perfect thing to corrupt. Yet, he smirks to himself, you had agreed to this, you were already corrupted, so desperate for him that you wanted him even in your sleep. Surely you did want exclusivity from him, you were just trying to appear laid back to not scare him off. You could be endearingly shy like that at times. Yes, you agreeing to this was surely evidence that you wanted more from him than you had. That you needed him.

He slowly and cautiously shifts you around until he can settle comfortably between your legs. His hands run up and down the soft skin of your thighs, keeping a close eye to see if you stir. He wonders if you’re really such a heavy sleeper, or if you’re merely pretending not to have woken for his benefit. At the moment it doesn’t matter to him, you seem asleep enough, and if you are conscious, you’re hardly objecting. He pushes up the hem of your nightdress and grins at the sight of you already bare for him, with no underwear in sight. Naughty girl, he thinks to himself as his hands skim up and down your inner thighs, leaning forward to press a soft kiss just above the little patch of hair shielding the part of you he wants most. He would love to tease you and draw it out more, but he doesn’t want you to wake before he can explore the more intimate aspects. He carefully lies down, guiding one of your supple thighs over his shoulder, spreading you open for his eager eyes. You’re already a little wet, he wonders if it’s from his teasing now, or perhaps your dreamy anticipation. He knows he can get you wetter easily. He uses two fingers to gently spread you open even more, revealing the sensitive pearl nestled within your folds. He blows lightly on it, making you twitch a little. He grins.

Still trying to let you stay asleep for now, he leans in and very gently touches his tongue to your bundle of nerves. You sigh softly in your sleep but don’t seem to wake. Your dreams are turning sticky-sweet, you begin to feel warm and floaty, but you’re not conscious enough to register this change properly. You squirm slightly and moan as his tongue gently swirls around your clit, not touching to keep you just bubbling below waking. Your breath is hitching softly, and little noises are leaving your throat. He can tell you’ll wake soon unless he stops, but he figures he doesn’t mind. He wants to see your face when you wake up to his head between your legs. Will you be shocked to start with? Or immediately eager and accepting? He was oddly thrilled to discover this. Your hands slide away from where they rested on your stomach, trying to grab something as he starts to lap at you just a little faster, your breath hitching a little more, exhaling shakily. He’s surprised you’re still asleep, he’s tempted to use legilimency on you to discover what you’re dreaming of. Your face is flushed and your lips parted blissfully, so he figures it’s something nice. His tongue slides up and down between your slick folds, the familiar taste of you spreading across his tongue as you become more and more aroused. He gently kneads the skin of your hip, pulling you a little closer to his mouth, trying to coax you awake without startling you too much. Your eyelids flutter, but you remain asleep, whimpering quietly. He focuses the tip of his tongue on your clit, making the stimulation just a little more intense, watching for your reaction intently. Your fingers tangle into the crumpled blanket by your side, curling into the plush material, and he knows you're on the very verge of wakefulness. He smirks, gently suckling your clit into his mouth. 

This rips a loud moan from your chest, which in turn makes your eyes snap open. You try to sit up, blinking blearily, looking a little bewildered, trying to make out shapes in the dim moonlight, to understand why you feel lost in a haze of pleasure. Riddle's hand moves, splaying out on your stomach, pushing you back down and holding you there. Your eyes snap to him, he grins up at you from between your legs, looking unbelievably smug, his eyes glinting in the light of the moon. The sight of him between your legs, the knowledge of what he’d been doing while you’d been sleeping, coaxes another moan from your lips. He eases up a little now you’re awake, going back to gentle teasing licks against your bundle of nerves. Your heart pounds and you breathe rapidly, partially reeling from the sudden awakening, but mostly just feeling amazing. You lie back against the sofa, trying your best to get your bearings while he continues smothering you with unrelenting bliss. He pulls back for a moment, though he instantly replaces his mouth with his fingers, not giving you a moment to think. 

“Naughty girl, sleeping without underwear to give me access,” he purrs, his voice rumbling in a self-satisfied manner. You giggle sleepily. You had done that, hadn’t you? He smiles up at you. “Was it a nice awakening, my darling?” he murmurs smoothly, leaning back in to continue his dedicated licks. You whimper softly, your hips twitching before he holds you solidly in place, tutting against your sensitive skin.

“The best awakening, so unbelievably arousing,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, watching him work his magic between your legs. He hums against you. He knows this of course, this was quite possibly the wettest he’d ever had you, only increasing since you’d woken up and become conscious of what he was doing. Your hands slide into his short curls as he works, usually, he might complain about this, but you’re still a little sleepy, and he decides to let it go. You sigh pleasurably, your hooded eyes locked on him. His eyes look up to meet yours as he begins to suckle on your clit once more. Intense pleasure floods over you, your head lolling back, your hands tightening slightly in his hair. You let out a string of desperate moans, moans he’s become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks. You’re close and he intends to get you there, to show you how much you need him, to remind you that you can no longer achieve this alone, if you ever could. He doubles down on his actions, gripping your hip a little tighter to keep you firmly in place. “Oh… Tom!” you plead, trying to grind your centre up into his face. You could get so desperate sometimes, Riddle tuts to himself. “Please,” you beg, anticipating his desire to tease you and hoping to get ahead of it. You need this, badly, he hasn’t been around to help you for days, and the scenario was driving you mad with lust. He’s uncharacteristically gracious, not relenting, continuing to lavish you with exquisite sensation, building you up and up. You look down again, and as his eyes meet yours, the coil in your belly snaps. Your whole body tenses, your back arching off of the sofa, a guttural cry escaping you. He holds your hips in place, continuing his assault as you ride out the climax. Tears gather in your eyes and you feel a little humiliated by how intensely this is affecting you. 

After several desperate sobs, you finally collapse back, your hands slipping from his hair. You take several deep breaths as he withdraws from between your legs, sitting up to look down at you. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table, wiping his mouth and discarding it haphazardly. You smile tiredly, and you feel exhausted by your sudden wake-up, but completely heavenly at the same time. You stare at each other for a moment. It’s an oddly domestic moment. You’ve never seen him in his pyjamas before, a matching shirt and trousers, made of silk or some other such soft material, the type that’s popular with the rich Slytherin boys. His hair is a little curly naturally, this you did know from him getting back to the common room on rainy days, but is now slightly messed up from your hands in it. You cover yourself back up, tugging the hem of your nightdress back down as he watches. He looks almost sweet, he has been sweet to you, in his own way. He reaches over and touches your flushed cheek, rubbing it softly with his thumb, unsure whether he’s trying to prove his effect on you, or just wishing to touch you. 

“I’ll have to think of something to ask of you in exchange for doing that,” he jokes a little unnaturally. You laugh honestly. 

“You didn’t already have something?” you tease, moving to sit up. He smiles, enjoying the way you see through him, just enough to prove you’re not stupid, but not enough to compromise any plans. Perhaps that’s why you haven’t asked for exclusivity with him, you’re not stupid like the others, whether you want it or not being irrelevant to the facts. The facts that were feeling more like theories lately.

“No, believe it or not,” he chuckles, pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “But it’ll be easy enough to think of something,” he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you goodnight. “You always find a way of being useful,”

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xoxoxo

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BEING DEAN’S WIFE

REQUEST : “Hey, can i request a hcs of be Dean Winchester or Jensen ackles wife? and be super sweet and pure girl that is younger than them” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : fluff, angst (if you squeeze your eyes together, til you make a crescent moon shape), a little bit of nsfw at the very end bc it’s hilarious

A/N : uh, yeah, here’s a little gift! I didn’t wanna do university work so i did this instead ☺️ anyway, i think this is just a list of things i love about dean… LMAO XXXX

he will just stare at you for no reason

well, the reason is actually that he thinks your lovely to look at LOL

all those chick flicks he secretly loves to watch? yeah, he’ll recite the romantic stuff because he’s literally down bad for you

… he’s cringing on the inside but also knows he means every word

he’s so pathetic for you and he doesn’t even care

he loves to give you forehead kisses

and he wants them, too, but your lips need to linger a bit, and he’ll close his eyes and just release all the tension in his body because he’s touch starved

he plays with your wedding ring when your hand is right there in his line of sight

he will hold your hand and just stare at the way the ring shines in the sunlight and he will grin like a gigantic dork

ex : if your talking to him or someone else, he’ll just take your hand and gently run his fingers over the ring

he likes when you hold his head against your stomach

when he’s sitting and you’re standing and you move between his legs just to hold his adorable little face close to you, HE LOVES THAT

you’ll let him talk for hours about things he likes, things he wants to share with you

and when you admit you have no idea what he’s talking about when he makes references to old pop culture stuff, he’ll show you everything

.. if all that stuff he references was associated with something else, now it’s all associated with you and him

it’s like THERAPY, to redo stuff with you, to make it his again, and yours

teaching him how to use technology because he’s an old man (affectionate), and he learns fast bc he’s SMART

LOL, witnessing firsthand how genius and resourceful dean is when something breaks [yeah, I can’t stop thinking about him making his own EMF and Sammy being a complete NIPPLEHEAD (affectionate) about it ! as a STEM girly that was so sexy of dean]

HELLO HE SINGS, TO YOU. HE WILL SING YOU ALL THE LOVE SONGS OMG

or he’ll just sing randomly and not even notice that you’re listening to him

silence, comfortable silence, not sad, just.. peaceful

he likes not having to say anything sometimes, just being there with you

he plays with your hair A LOT, he’ll take strands and just feel the texture of it between his fingertips, he’ll even try to do your hair if you let him, if it’s long enough

CUDDLES, he needs that, too.

but he’d rather be on top when you cuddle, with his cute face on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, to your breathing, falling asleep if you run your fingers gently along his back or if you play with his hair

Dean starts mumbling a lot against your chest or shoulder when you’re just relaxing and having lazy conversation as you cuddle

how about KISSING HIS LITTLE DIMPLES??? idk about you but I just wanna kiss his little dimples when he does that specific SMILE or POUT, ya know what I mean! •ᴗ•?? or •~• ???

he flirts with you because you blush so easily

he gets flustered when you flirt back, BC HE’S NOT USED TO IT

he looks like a strawberry, just eatable, with the tips of his ears all red, then the pinkish hue pouring across his freckled cheeks and down his neck in cute little splotches 😭 ALRIGHT YEAH I THINK ABOUT THIS OFTEN

teasing him ABOUT EVERYTHING because that’s hilarious, and he’s indignant but also knows you’re so right and he’ll roll his eyes at you and pretend he’s mad

he can never be mad at you, only playfully!

UHHH ! KISSING THE LITTLE WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS PRETTY EYES !!!

squeezing him very tightly when you hug and just holding him until he’s practically putting all his weight over you like a willow tree

he’ll bother you on purpose, especially if you’re serious

ex : he takes strands of your hair and will put it in your ear LMAOO or tickle your face with it bc he’s never gonna let a single moment be boring

he grins like the cutest idiot in the world and you can’t be mad at him because he looks LIKE THAT, like the cutest idiot in the whole universe

wearing his clothes and pretending to be him, he thinks it’s cute and funny

he’ll hold your face a lot

and kiss you all over bc you’re cute and pure and deserve all the affection he can offer

and his hands are big and calloused, but he’s so tender and gentle, and warm

hugs from behind

smashing your face into his back and taking in the smell of his body (Mrs Butters lied, Dean smells good)

he’ll love the smell of your hair when he nuzzles into your neck, or the smell of your skin, or the softness of it

going on cute dates, like picnics, watching movies, going to the cinema, going to comic book stores

watching Disney movies together and he can recite the Dory movie by heart because HE LOVES THAT FISH FR

he’ll make you playlists of songs that remind him of you

He takes lots of photos, Polaroids are his favourite because he gets to put them anywhere and everywhere so he can smile and see you if you’re ever busy

you’ll always dress up on Halloween or just for fun whenever he wants

✨healing his inner child✨

grocery shopping together, he pouts when you don’t let him be unhealthy

if you’re short, he’s making fun of you for being shorter than him when he has to reach for stuff on shelves that you can’t reach even on your toes

he teaches you how to cook if you don’t know how to

and you eat the crazy food combinations he comes up with, like those marshmallow mac and cheese he said he made for Sam when they were kids , I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT TASTES LIKE

he teaches you how to fix cars! he’ll stare at you when you’re being silly ANYWAY PLS TEACH ME DEAN PLS

HAHAHAHAH but like hahahahah as in, 👀 the cute little names he calls you, and you thought they were cringe when couples said them to each other but actually when HE says it to YOU it makes you swoon and you blush, but you pretend you hate it at first because you’re not used to it but he can see through you, you love it

(I’m convinced that if he calls me darlin’, I will die on the spot, or my illnesses will be cured idk idk, I just know something spontaneous or magical will happen)

sharing everything, as in food

he’ll eat your leftovers, if there are any

or if he likes your stuff better than what he’s got, he’ll eat it when he think you’re not looking, but you are definitely aware, you’re just pretending because he’s so cute

trying all the Starbucks drinks together

having to deal with his grumpiness in the morning

even better, you’re not a morning person either so you’re both grumpy

he’s so cute when he’s had his first cup of coffee in the morning :’)

when you shower together, you both play with the shampoo on you heads LMAO

he gives really good massages, like MIND-BLOWINGLY GOOD, I know them hands are magical

BUYING EACH OTHER JEWELLERY, he’s too pretty to not wear jewellery

kissing his freckles BC HES CUTE AND he blushes

kissing his scars (flashback of emo memes) NO, not saying anything about them, just gently pressing your lips on his sensitive skin so he’s not insecure about all of them

reading all sorts of magazines together BC THERES NO TOXIC MASCULINITY IN MY HOUSEHOLD AND MY BOY IS ALLOWED TO DO WHAT HE WANTS YA DUMB— right, anyway

he throws you over his shoulder and then walks around to bother you

butt smacking, that’s it, imagine the possibilities

pretending he’s picking you up at bars (like Claire and Phil from Modern Family 😭)

he’ll throw out his best pick up lines and you have to hold in your laughter at the faces he makes ALSO it works bc that’s your husband

being the best husband when you’re sick

making the yummiest foods and making sure your taking natural vitamins along with medicine

hanging out with you the whole time, not caring that you’re sick even though he’s kind of a germaphobe

whining a lot when he’s sick, but he’s partially just messing with you bc he wasn’t allowed to whine about anything as a kid (I’m right behind you, John)

he’s holding your boobs for comfort LMAO

I feel like he likes to bite, so he bites you a lot for no reason, and then goes about his day

pretending to have accents

more importantly, Dean knows how to speak Spanish, supernatural lied (all that porn and all those novelas and nothing stuck? nah, he’s very good at Spanish)

so he’ll try to seduce you with his Spanish speaking skills (and if you’re Latina/hispanic like me, you think it’s so sexy or it’s just plain cute, idk yet)

playing video games together and being very competitive

he’s very clean and very neat so you never have to tell him to clean up after himself !

he’s very protective of you, but never oversteps bc he knows you can handle yourself

he likes introducing you as his wife

it’s probably not even necessary but he’ll say it very loud and with a gigantic smile and he’ll embarrass you but it’s okay bc it’s Dean

he lies and says he’s your sugar daddy when people comment about the age gap

dude, dude, he’ll tease you a lot like… 🤣 he’ll copy your moans, or repeat stuff you said to him during sex. he’ll tell you very descriptively about how it all went down and the faces you made and the sounds you made.. you know, like in rock and a hard place [09.08]

especially if you’re shy

you wanna strangle him, but you don’t bc he’s the love of your life !

did I do this right? :( doesn’t matter, add some headcannons in the tags or comments 😭 i love husband!dean

taglist

@rominaszh @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[shadowdarlings]

Blood Will Rain II

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis : After emerging victorious in the war with Hybern, you are learning to be a part of a family again. Your recovery after being captive is slow, but a certain shadowsinger makes it his responsibility to see that you get well again.

part one

Pairings : AzrielxReader , ReaderxInnerCircle!Platonic , ReaderxRhysand!Siblings

A/N : part two of idk. if you’d like to be tagged in any other series updates please comment!

Warnings : slight angst, mentions of captivity, az being sweetie pie hehe

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It had been weeks since you and your family had returned to the Night Court. After half a millennia you were thrilled to be back in the city of starlight. Velaris, your home, finally. You had taken up a semi-permanent residence in the House of Wind alongside Cassian and Azriel. Although the elation of returning woke something that had been long asleep within you, the scars of your captivity rang throughout your very bones. Rhysand made a habit of coming to check on you frequently. Sometimes under the guise of wanting to meet with his general or shadowsinger, but it was all to see you. You noted his efforts and appreciated his call to be your older brother, but you did not know how to be a sister anymore. You did not know how to be a friend. These titles had been forgotten, the only thing you knew how to do was be prisoner. You often caught yourself falling into old habits that had been developed during the 500 years you were Hybern’s pet. The chambers in which he kept you at the grey stone palace had changed throughout the years. The first 200 you spent confined to a small dungeon with little light or air. After much beguiling the King saw fit to move you into a room similar to what their servants were housed in. It was nothing compared to the space and lavishness of your quarters in the House.

This did not stop you from remaining mostly confined to that room. It was rare that you strode the halls or explored the libraries or training ring. Interactions with the rest of your brother’s court were kept short and polite. You did not want them to see that you now felt stranger to them, this world. Although you had grown up with the three Illyrian males they had become something you did not recognize. They too had gone through extensive changes during these years. Rhysand had become High Lord. Cassian a commanding General to the Night Court’s armies. Azriel had become something completely different than what you knew before. He was the same in some regards, still reserved and watchful, but his presence held a more powerful purpose than it did during those years in Illyria. These people were your family, yes, but they were also strangers. The Archeron sisters were also completely foreign to you. Feyre visited as Rhys did and made efforts to give you any comfort you requested. The other two sisters you hardly spoke to or saw at all. Strangers. They were all strangers. Except that this was their House, their family. There was a sickening realization that it was not them but you who was the stranger. So you kept to yourself, to your abominably large quarters, and to the small tasks you gave yourself each day.

You were up before dawn as you practiced each morning. The power that the Cauldron had bestowed on you was something that needed an outlet. These last hours of night were perfect, you would not disturb anyone as you released waves of magic. The stars winked at you from the lightening sky as you levitated each item in your room several inches then gently placed them back down. It was simple magic, not anything that could be used productively, but it was something to quell the ocean inside. One floor above you felt movement coming from Cassian’s rooms. The General was often awake early but typically not for at least another hour. The shock of it was enough that your bed landed with a dull thud instead of silent ease. Panic struck through you and it was an effort to control your breaths. “Relax,” you said to yourself, “he is not your enemy.” The footsteps and noises that came from the two Illyrians often sent your survival instincts into hyperdrive until you reminded yourself that they were not the guards. You were not prisoner. You were home. Loosing a calm breath you considered. His steps were no longer solitary but accompanied by a lighter pair, and they were making their way down to your floor. Then seconds later a soft knock sounded on the large wooden door to your sitting room just outside your sleeping quarters. You shouldered on the floor length robe that hung on your bedpost and pulled your midnight hair back from your face. Padding over gently you opened the door slightly to reveal a towering Azriel waiting to greet you.

“There’s breakfast,” he offered observing your entire figure. He seemed to note the thin sheen of sweat that adorned your forehead from your morning magic. He did not comment, but raised his palm slightly in invitation. “Let me change into something more appropriate and I’ll be ready,” you said assessing him in a similar manner. The shadowsinger was not in his usual Illyrian leathers, but instead he donned casual black pants and a loose fitting long black shirt. The swirls of ink on his chest peeking just above the neckline. Whispers of autumn were upon the northern territory, a slight chill had claimed the mornings while the sun still heated the afternoons. He bowed slightly, “Of course,” was all he said before you shut the door and turned to get yourself ready. The outfits you’d worn at the House had all been casual. Rhys did not deem it fit for you to take up any sort of fighting anytime soon, and you were inclined to agree with him. “Recovery,” is what he had said, “that is all I want you to focus on. If you need anything at all please let any one of us know.” You smiled slightly at the thought while pulling on a lightweight sweater that matched your violet eyes and a pair of black leggings accompanied by woolen socks. It had been longer than you could remember since such kindness had been extended to you. It was so foreign, but you welcomed it nonetheless. After tying your hair into a loose bun at the nape of your neck you strode to the double doors that entered the hallway. Upon opening them you were surprised to see Azriel still standing there waiting for you.

“You didn’t have to wait,” you said, willing the slight blush that threatened to climb up your cheeks to dissipate. “I know,” was all he said before gesturing towards the hall that led to the dining room. The two of you took the short walk in silence. Whether Azriel knew the silence was born by feeling like a stranger he did not let on, but silence with him felt different than with the others. With the rest of your family you were always searching for something to say, something to fill the emptiness that gave away your alienation from them. With Azriel the quiet did not seem so desperate. Perhaps it was just the nature of a shadowsinger, you thought.

The two of you entered into the grand dining room and the silence was broken by Cassian’s bellowing laughter and Mor’s palm thwacking against his bicep. Surely you did not want to know the words they had exchanged before your arrival. Rhysand and Feyre swooped into the main room not a second later, the two of them giving knowing glances as they strode in and joined the rabble. You were happy for your brother, and it was then you made a mental note to try and get to know his new mate better. When you halted a few feet from the group, Azriel stopped with you. Rhysand turned his attention from Feyre and his eyes landed on you and the towering Illyrian standing just to your side. “Good morning, Y/N. Good morning, Az,” he purred. Cassian and Mor paused their bickering to gaze over to you both as well. The sets of eyes that all laid upon you now had you toying with the sleeve of your sweater, but you simply replied “Good morning, everyone.” Feyre approached and wrapped her slender arms around your shoulders. “I hope you slept well,” she said pulling back after her short embrace. You nodded and plastered a cheery smile on your face. This was your family. They love you. “Good,” Rhysand stated, “because we have a long day ahead of us.” At your confused look Azriel leaned down to say gently “We’re going to celebrate your birthday.”

Taglist : @annamariereads16 @lilah-asteria @sidthedollface2 @todaywasafairytale07 @doodlebugg16-blog

[jasntodds]

Ok but the gifs you just posted of jay... Mmmmm yum. He looks too good, could you imagine him coming in late at night from patrol taking off the red hood gear and laying with you and him talk about how much he loves you in that voice and look like that. Then he's like can i make you feel good?? Ughhhh Just a thot.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason comes home from patrol with only one thing on his mind: you

Warnings: Swearing, 18+, oral (f!receiving), idk I wrote this at 4am lmao

Words: 2,006

A/n: Anon is talking about these gifs and I, too, have some thoughts™️

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason has two moods when patrol gets a little messy. Sometimes, it’s like it triggers something he begs so desperately to forget. It’s as if all the memories and fears kick down his front door and barge in without ever asking for an invite.

They intrude on his space of peace and calm like a disease wreaking havoc through his nervous system. It’s not usually pretty when that happens. But, other times, it’s as if those memories knock. The fears knock softly and look at him with hope that one day things get better. It’s as if they’re just looking for a way out and Jason is the helpful type. Those nights, he’s not angry or worried or scared, instead, he’s caring. And the only thing left on his mind as he walks through the door, is you.

Jason is always caring towards you. But, on those nights, nights like tonight, it’s always a little more. Nights like tonight are harsh and cruel reminders of what he faces and what the victims face. They are harsh reminders, not that he ever needs one, that in a second, everything can change. Everything he cares about can disappear again. He can disappear from you again. And all he wants to do is be near you.

You stir awake as Jason walks into your bedroom. You can see the shiny, reflective red of the helmet coming from the hallway. A sweet and tired smile tugs at your lips because he’s home. You never really sleep well when he’s out.

“Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to wake you.” Jason mutters as he takes the helmet off.

“‘S okay.” You mumble, watching him strip the rest of the suit off. “Come to bed.” You stretch out an arm as you watch Jason smile.

It's something warm and tender pulling at the corners of his lips as he glances to the floor and then back to you. A twisting and pulling, gnaws at the bottom of his stomach and all he wants is you.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jason’s chuckle is low and quiet in the room as he comes into bed, sliding right up behind you as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

Jason presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder…and then another one….and another one. He can hear you hum in front of him. Jason’s arms are strong around you, keeping your back pinned to his chest as he places a kiss to your neck. Goosebumps erupt down your spine.

“I love you.” Jason’s voice is groveled and thick against your skin.

“I love you, too, Jay.” You whisper back and Jason swears he can hear the smile on your face a he places more lazy and gentle kisses along your shoulder and neck.

You remember the first time he told you. The thundering and banging of Jason’s heart had come to a stop like it hit a wall straight on going 100mph as the words left his throat. You swore it was as if it had pained him to actually say them. But it didn’t.

It didn’t hurt to say them, it just terrified him to let those words exist anywhere outside of the dark and paranoid corners of his mind. But he said them anyway because you always told him so casually, effortlessly in such a way he was almost jealous of how effortless it was for you to say it. You said it often and softly, never even expecting him to be able to say it back but then he did because he does love you. He had always loved you and he needed you to know.

Since then, since he said those words and you gave him this wild and eager grin before catching his lips in a kiss, he says it freely now. The words fall from his lips as he’s never known any others. He tells you often, regularly, and lazily. It's become effortless for him, too.

“I love you.” Jason mutters again. “So much.” He keeps pressing kisses over your shoulders. “Ya know that, right?” Jason asks.

“Of course, Jay.” You hum softly and tenderly. “I love you, too.” You say it again because you always say it back. You swear you’ll never let him forget that you do. You know how he thinks and sometimes, those dark and twisted voices are cruel to him

Jason’s grip over your middle loosens as he slides a hand under your tank top and you shudder against him. The pads of his fingers run along your stomach gently. He traces his way up until his fingers almost dance right under your breast, just close enough to tease you as his lips are still pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck.

“Can I make you feel good?” Jason’s voice is rough against your ear, his fingers tracing below your breasts so softly you almost miss the touch.

Warmth spreads to your pussy, contracting around nothing as he asks. It’s a realization of how empty you feel without him. You'd be lying if you said watching him strip from the Red Hood gear didn't always do something to you. The suit is fitted so well and it always makes his muscles look perfect. The black and red compliments his skin in such a way it always sends a fire bubbling through your stomach.

But it’s so early, and you have work a few hours.

“It’s four in the morning and I have to work in a few hours.” You want your voice to come out sterner than it does, a betrayal from your own vocal chords. 

“Please.” Jason asks, this time the pads of his fingers trace along the top of your breast as you close your eyes, pushing your ass into him. Jason nearly growls into your neck. “Then we can sleep. Just wanna make you feel good, princess.” His words are absolutely drenched with lust as they hit your ears.

His cock is trapped in his boxes but you can feel his length, hot against your ass. Jason is careful with his fingers, nimble and gentle over your breast, nearly just hovering. He thinks of every way he can make you feel good, completely ruin you right here and right now. He’s almost desperate to hear you moaning out his name in a way that always gets his cock twitching and pulsing.

You hum softly, running over just how much sleep you can get. It’ll never be enough but your mind starts swimming as Jason bucks his hips against you. Your pussy throbs and aches, the tiredness slowly fading away from your mind. He always knows how to get you to unravel, though it’s rarely much effort on his part.

“If I’m late again, I’m blaming you.” You mumble.

You can feel the rumble of Jason’s chest as he chuckles. “That’s fine.” Jason peels himself away from your back and you groan at the sudden cold that rushes over you.

Jason pulls the blanket back before he turns you onto your back as you let out a squeal. His chuckle reverberates around the room as he slides down to position himself between your legs.

Hunger grows in the pit of your stomach as Jason presses soft and gentle kisses along your knee, pulling your legs apart. His mouth moves down your inner thigh and you squirm against him. You can feel him smirk against your skin as he pins your hips in place to keep you still.

"Thought you were tired?" Jason mocks, offering a quick glance your way and you can see the green of his eyes turn into something dark and eclectic, fueled with cockiness.

"Shut up." You mutter, hitting your head back against your pillow.

Jason kisses his way to your underwear. He presses a kiss to your cloth-covered clit and you have to bite back a moan as your hips buck desperately towards him. His chuckle is low and is followed by something you can only describe as a growl.

"Look at you, princess." His eyes flicker up towards you and you want to dive into his eyes and let yourself drown into him. "Soaking already."

You roll your eyes, hands coming to grip his hair in a desperate plea for him to shut up and get to work. It's a snicker this time that leaves his lips as he slides his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off in a quick motion.

He goes back to placing kisses to the mound of your leaking pussy and then to your hips. The burning sensation grows in your stomach as your eyes start to burn. He knows what he's doing. He always knows what he's doing and he's good at it.

"Jay." You whine, looking down at him. His eyes meet yours and you think you might burst into flames. "C'mon, please."

A flash of a smirk comes to his lips as he slides a finger through your folds, just teasing your pussy, never taking his eyes off you. He watches your mouth part as a soft and sweet gasp leaves your lips. Your grip on his hair tightens and he loves to watch you fall apart, come completely unraveled with the smallest of touches.

“Think you’ve been waiting for me like this all night.” Jason coos, effortlessly teasing your leaking pussy. Jason breaks eye contact to kiss your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. A jolt close to lightning shoots through your body as you let out a raspy moan. “That right, baby?” He flashes that signature grin of cockiness your way and if he weren't so good at it, you might actually want to bite it off of his face.

Jason is cocky and it's not something you'd normally find attractive but there's something in the way he executes it that he sends you into a spin. Jason makes the cockiness attractive and he always backs it up. He's not cocky for no reason and he knows it.

He presses the flat of his long along your pussy, licking all the way up before sucking your clit back into his mouth. It twitches against his lips and your head starts to spin. Your hips buck up but Jason pins them back down, his hand strong and sterny against your flesh.

“Gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Jason coos against you, his breath against your sends a chill down your spine.

Jason moves his tongue, tracing letters against your clit, finding the rythym he knows will get you to unravel into a mess beneath him. He slots two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to the second knuckle until he feels the spongey patch inside of you.

Your head spins and you think gravity might cease to exist if he lets go of you. Your fingers grip and tug his hair, trying to bring him closer to you as the pressure fills your stomach.

Jason's ears collect every gasp and pretty moan that leaves your lips, his name sounding like the closest thing to heaven he's ever heard. His fingers soak up your juices until the pressure finally becomes too much as you're calling out his name in quick succession, your thighs trying to clamp around his head until Jason presses them back down into the mattress.

He works you through your orgasm and only comes up for air as you nearly beg him, your clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Told you I'd make you feel good, baby." Jason's toothy grin glistens in the low light.

You shake your head, your eyes lust-blown. But, he catches the hint of a grin pulling at your lips. "My turn." You gesture your hands lazily at him for him to up towards you.

Jason tilts his head back as a chuckle rumbles through his chest. His eyes lock with yours, his pupils blown but there's something soft in them. "I love you." Jason mutters, climbing his way back up to you.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Deadly Blush | Thranduil x Reader

Pairing Thranduil/Reader

Read on AO3

Content: idk teasing, smut.

Word Count: 3,840

Prompt: (#2 from this list). It’s in bold in the text below.

Requested by anon.

tags: (if you’ve filled in a form for my taglist and you’re not here it’s because your settings are probably set to hide you from search engines so it will not allow me to tag you!) @firelightinferno​, @coopsgirl​, @birbixo0912​, @desert-fern​, @weepingdreammarvel​

The only thing that you could focus on, as the Elvenking's deep voice reverberated around the room, was his mouth. You tried not to be so blatant but you could not stop your gaze from dropping to those perfectly shaped lips every time he spoke. The rest of the room seemed unaffected by your staring and by your, truly, quite sinful thoughts. Thranduil himself seemed to not notice and you decided that was a small mercy because you were pretty certain that if he did, you might die.

However, the King was not as clueless as you believed him to be. He could see you quite clearly and, truthfully, you were not very subtle about it. The rest of the council were far too focused upon the words the king was speaking to pay attention, nodding and murmuring their agreement every so often or voicing a question of their own.

When this happened next, an important member of his council drawing everyone else's attention while they brought up a very good point, Thranduil took his chance to play with you a little.

He did not turn his head, he could see you clearly enough without even needing to. His attention appeared to be on the discussion even as his tongue flicked out of his mouth and ran along the length of his lower lip.

He saw the way you shifted in your seat and inwardly smirked, though nothing showed on his face. He remained as stoic as always, his expression a mask of dignity and calm. Inside, he was most amused. The council members all turned back to him and he was quick to snap his mind back into professional mode, answering the question with ease and authority.

The next time everyone's attention was drawn elsewhere, he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your face had to be on fire by now, you could feel it, and you desperately hoped that nobody so much as glanced your way. You were only ever in these meetings to take notes and so thankfully it was quite common that nobody paid any attention to you. Sometimes the ignorance bothered you but today you desperately hoped and wished for it.

Just when you thought you'd gotten yourself under control again, heat rushed straight back into your cheeks at the sight of Thranduil lifting his hand to his face and running his finger over his mouth. The gesture was merely thoughtful but your mind took it to an entirely different place.

You ducked your head and then, thankfully, a halt was called to the proceedings and everybody began to stand and leave the room. You decided to stay right where you were with your hair a curtain either side of your face, acting busy with the parchment on your lap, until they had all left the room so there was little chance of them seeing your no doubt ridiculously flushed face.

“You know, I like it when your face is all red.” Thranduil's voice suddenly purred in your ear and you shivered, wondering how he had moved so quickly.  

“My lord... please.” You murmured, though you had no idea if you were pleading for him to stop teasing you or for him to make the uncomfortable knotted feeling in your stomach go away.

“Please what?” He leaned in a little closer, ghosting those sinfully soft lips over the shell of your ear before he was gone again, pacing back over to the wine decanter in the corner of the room.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and you finally lifted your head to look at him, wondering if that had even happened at all or if you had imagined it entirely.

"Nothing, I..."

However, Thranduil was talking again and you went quiet. "You know, you seem so awfully interested in my mouth, yet I do not believe you truly heard most of the words that actually left it. I dread to imagine how useless today’s notes must be." He said it so matter-of-factly that you quite literally couldn’t understand how you did not die on the spot.

He had seen you staring at him? Oh, how horrifyingly embarrassing!

You opened your mouth to let out a stream of apologies but he was already talking again, having now turned back around to face you with his wine in his hand. "Perhaps you should rid yourself of such distracting thoughts.”

You blinked and your heart sank, nodding as you lowered your gaze shamefully. He was reprimanding you and you had never felt so low in your whole life. “I... I am so sorry, Aran nin, I...” You could not speak another word. You felt so ashamed, so embarrassed. You fiddled with the corner of the parchment and waited for him to sweep out and leave you here alone while he joined the others for their quick lunch.

A deep chuckle left him as he stared at you, watching you intently. “You misunderstand me.” He said. When you looked up, he lifted the wine chalice to his lips and drank the entire thing down, making you squirm as you waited in confusion for him to explain what it is you have misunderstood.

“My lord?” You had to prompt eventually, when he lowered the now empty glass to the table and licked his lips, his eyes burning holes in your face. Your gaze slipped involuntarily back to his mouth as he did this and your face burned as you forced them back up to his face. He was grinning.

“What I meant,” he finally spoke again. “Was you should rid yourself of these thoughts... by indulging them.”

You blinked dumbly up at him for a long moment. He stared unblinkingly back at you, the hint of a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard. “I, uh... what?” How eloquent, you thought bitterly.

Thranduil chuckled again and he moved across the room towards you. “Well.” He shrugged, reaching out a hand towards you. You took it and he pulled you up onto your feet so you were now standing right in front of him. He was still quite a lot taller than you were and you had to tilt your head. He was quiet a moment longer, studying you, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften. “Do you not think,” he continued, his voice soft, seductive, as he lifted his hand and traced his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. Your breath caught in your throat. “That if you were to have what you were so obsessing over that your thoughts might cease...?” His smirk widened. “Hm? You might actually get some work done. I might even be able to use those notes as intended...”

You felt as if the very breath had been stolen from you and your skin felt hot and the knot in your stomach only felt like it was getting more tangled up. You had to be dreaming or hallucinating... but could a hallucination feel quite this solid, you wondered, as his thumb continued to rub gently at your lower lip. His skin was so soft...

Without warning, because you did not move away or show disinterest, he dipped his head and his mouth came down on yours, and you squeaked in surprise. You could feel his amusement as he began to kiss you and for a moment you thought your heart might have stopped altogether before you gathered enough wits to kiss him back, a little timidly. You were kissing the king. Before you could fully get used to this thought, his tongue touched your lips, asking for access, and your mouth opened slightly as if you were about to gasp. Thranduil took the chance immediately and his tongue plunged into your mouth. The sensation, coupled with the taste of him, was overwhelming. He kissed you like this, for a little while, waiting patiently for you to grow less tense as your mind fought to catch up with what was happening here. How your secret, quite lascivious fantasy had somehow become a reality.

Eventually, you managed to get over your intense shock and you began to kiss him with the enthusiasm you had imagined in your mind, and Thranduil hummed a sound of appreciation into your mouth as his tongue battled against your own. He moved his arms and his hands took firm hold of your waist. You made a slightly strangled sound and he made a noise in response that sounded like a laugh.

When he finally broke the kiss, pulling back for air, you gasped in a deep breath and opened your eyes. As you focused in on him, you realised he hadn't moved very far away, his nose still only inches from your own, his hands still grasping at your waist. He was breathing quite heavily and his pupils were dilated as he stared back at you, making his gaze seem dark... and hungry.

There was a long silence and you thought he was going to pull away. He tore his gaze from you long enough to glance at the closed door of the room. You didn't know it but he was trying to figure out if he had enough time before everybody returned to continue the meeting. Enough time for what? You found out a moment later when his lips came crashing back down on your own, his tongue no longer asking as he shoved it into your mouth. You had absolutely no complaints about that, immediately returning to kissing him back, however it was different. There was a greater urgency to his kisses this time and in the next second he had moved you over the floor at lightning speed and your back hit the wall.

He continued to kiss you as one hand moved from your waist and began to slide up under your shirt. You shivered and made an embarrassing squeaking sound that had him pulling back to look at you. He paused, as if realising what he'd done. Thranduil licked his lips, his breathing ragged, and you were certain you had never seen the Elvenking look quite so... out of control.

"Is..." He started but then he stopped, his eyes flicking downward briefly, as if he was unsure of what to say. That couldn't be right. Thranduil was never unsure of what to say. You watched his gaze turn to the door again and then move back to your face and you suddenly understood the question he was trying to ask you. Is this okay? Do you want this? Do you want more? It was absolutely absurd, of course, and you were certain this had to be a sick joke. But the desire in his eyes told a different story and Thranduil may be a lot of things but a liar he isn't.

"Yes." You said, nodding your immediate consent as you stared up at him, your head spinning at the mere idea. "Yes... please." You wanted more, you always did, always had. Now he was... offering it? You could not fathom it but you were not about to say no!

Thranduil studied you for a very long moment, searching your eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but he found none. He growled slightly and his grip on you tightened as he hoisted you up by the waist and pressed you firmly against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him on instinct and your body felt like it was on fire as he attacked your mouth with his once more. He kissed you deeply, thoroughly, though urgently, as if there was not enough time and you realised then why he had kept looking at the door and you understood this would need to be quick. Your heart fluttered in anticipation.

Thranduil kept you pressed to the wall as he slid a hand between your bodies and moved it up under the skirt you’d put on that morning. Luckily, your choice of garments only made this process easier. You moaned into his mouth when, without hesitation, his fingers found that delicious spot between your legs and began to massage, gently at first but his touch became more vigorous. He needn't have really bothered, because you were wet enough already, embarrassingly. Though it only seemed to excite him when he discovered this. All you could do in this moment was keep making muffled sounds of pleasure into his mouth.

Thranduil wished that he could touch you longer, that he had the time to please you properly as he had always longed to do. He had not expected his little game to go quite this far, of course, but he told himself that next time... he would take all the time he wished and pay attention to every inch of you.

He grunted as he reached down and tugged at the laces keeping his trousers in place, pulling himself out and lining up between your legs. A gasp left you as you felt the tip of him against you and you had to pull away from his mouth to process that this was actually happening. He didn’t stop, breathing laboured as he held eye contact with you the entire time he pushed himself inside, watching the way your eyes almost rolled back and your body shuddered with delight.

Then he was moving and you were pretty certain that you had entered heaven. He moved with determination as he took you right there against the wall of the conference room and soon he was practically panting in your ear. You had never thought yourself to be turned on by sounds before but the ones you heard leave him, quiet as they may be as he controlled himself, changed your mind. He moved quickly but not selfishly, his large body pinning you between him and the wall, one hand still between your legs trying to make certain you felt pleasure too. Your legs, which had once been firmly about his waist, began to lose their grip on him.

You were a mess.

There was no other way to put it.

One particularly well aimed thrust caused a loud moan to rip itself from your throat and one of Thranduil’s large hands immediately clamped down over your mouth. You couldn’t help it! You were not as good at controlling yourself as he appeared to be and it felt... so... good.

He smirked as he looked back into your eyes and started to move his hips just that little bit faster, as if reading your thoughts, his hand still firmly over your mouth as you moaned again, the sound muffled, the back of your head tilting back and hitting the wall as your legs began to feel useless around him and your fingers dug into the fabric of his doublet.

Thranduil’s smug expression soon disappeared from his face as he realised that he was getting closer and closer to release. His hand slipped from your mouth, his palm pressing hard against the wall as his thrusts increased slightly, his pace becoming desperate as he drove himself closer, aware that time was running out. You were, of course, much closer and you tensed around him as a great wave crashed over you, your blood rushing in your ears as you screamed out your satisfaction. Thranduil tried to cover your mouth again but he wasn’t quick enough and the feeling of you contracting around him made him forget everything else as he was pushed over the edge of his own orgasm.

As the ecstasy rolled over him, he dropped his head and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and he let out a deep, almost primal groan against your skin. The heat and the sound of him made you shiver. The feeling of him releasing deep inside you made you moan again, but you did bite your lip this time to try and stifle the sound. Thranduil went still and, for a short while, the only sound in the room was both of your heavy breathing mixing together.

Slowly, Thranduil came back to himself. He sighed, his breath hot on your neck, and he kissed your flushed skin, his lips soft and tender. You hummed, keeping your eyes closed as he gently began to suck on your neck, losing himself for a moment, and then unfortunately he pulled his face away to look you in the eye again. He took a deep breath, looking at you for a long moment as if he was studying you. “You are so beautiful...” He breathed, and your heart practically melted. Thranduil leaned in and he kissed you once more, the touch of his lips soft and gentle, as your legs trembled and threatened to stop working. Thranduil’s hands found your waist again and he helped your feet find the floor again, still kissing you.

Sudden, loud voices from the hall outside caused him to jump back from you quite suddenly, his hands immediately moving to adjust his trousers and smooth down his clothing. He stared at the door for a moment before he turned his eyes back on you, watching as you adjusted yourself, the long skirt sliding easily back into place. He reached out and he combed his fingers through your hair, smoothing some stray pieces back down. You stared up at him, captivated. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but at that very instant the door opened and everybody began to file back into the room, their voices loud and cheerful as they moved to take their seats.

Thranduil moved away from you back to the front of the room, his shoulders straight, his hands clasped behind his back, and his expression once more his normal neutral mask.

You, on the other hand, were certain that your legs were shaking so much that if you took a step you would fall flat on your face in front of everybody. You stayed where you were for a long moment until everybody was seated and then you realised you had no other choice because it was you who needed to take the notes for the final half of this meeting. You forced one foot in front of the other, certain you could feel Thranduil’s seed starting to run down your leg. You bit your lip and you squeezed your thighs together as you finally reached your seat, taking up your parchment and quill once more, and letting out a very shaky breath. You were sure your face was flushed but, as usual, nobody paid you any attention. Small mercies.

The rest of the meeting seemed to drag on for eternity as you did your utmost to take coherent notes of what was being discussed. Unlike how Thranduil had made it sound earlier on, your mind had certainly not let up after getting what it wanted (more than it wanted, even!) No, in fact it was probably worse as your thoughts were full of Thranduil’s firm body pressing you against that wall, the feeling of him moving inside you, his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth...

“...are you even listening?”

You blinked, lifting your head. Your eyes met Thranduil’s and the knowing smirk on his face looked so self-congratulatory you could have actually smacked him for it.

“Sorry?”

“Apology accepted.” He said, his smirk only growing as you blinked up at him.  Your eyes narrowed and he chuckled. “Forgive me, I am only teasing you.”

It was only then that you realised the room was empty. You had not even noticed everybody leaving and you glanced down at the paper in a panic to see if you had even registered the end of the meeting. Apparently you had, in a few almost incomprehensible scribbles that you must have written on autopilot.

Cringing slightly, you turned your attention back to Thranduil. “Have you not teased me enough, my lord?” You asked, a slight smirk of your own visible on your face as you met his gaze.

He let out another laugh, this one brighter, and he seemed pleased. “You will call me Thranduil.” He said firmly and then he shook his head. “And no. I do not believe I have.” 

You would call him... by his name? Without any titles at all? You were too busy trying to figure that one out that you did not catch his next words straight away. When you did, you frowned and tilted your head at him. “No?”

Thranduil shook his head, holding your gaze as he shifted and bent down at the waist so he was eye level with where you were sitting. “No.” He repeated, his eyes studying your own. He looked a little lost for a moment before he gathered himself once more. “Do you have plans this eve?”

The question took you off guard and you could only stare for a long few seconds, probably looking like a complete fool... but Thranduil merely stood patiently and waited. “No...” You said eventually.

Thranduil immediately straightened and turned on his heel. “Good. Come.” He said, gesturing over his shoulder for you to follow him. You scrambled out of the seat as fast as you could manage, snatching up your things as you hurried to follow him from the room. He did not lead you out of the main door but the one near the back of the room, that connected to one of the many passageways that were reserved just for the king, which would eventually lead... to his chambers.

When he pushed the door open, it hit you like a ton of bricks, though you must have already known on some level. Your brain was just a little slow from what had happened between the two of you earlier. 

He turned in the doorway and looked at you very seriously. “I do not want...” As before, the Elvenking seemed to not quite know what to say. “I mean, I would not wish to presume...” Again, he stopped, his mouth a thin line and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he tried to figure out what it was exactly he wanted to say to you. Such uncertainty frustrated him.

You smiled. Somehow, despite how surprising it was to see him in such a way, it relaxed your nerves. You reached for his hand and you gazed up at him, watching the surprise register on his face as he felt your fingers thread into the gaps between his own. “You do not presume, Thranduil...” You said simply, your soft smile turning into another tiny smirk. “You guess correctly.”

His uncertainty and frustration melted away, reassured by your words. You expected his perfect mouth to turn into yet another smug smirk but instead he gave you the softest, most relieved smile you had ever seen on him. “In that case...” He said, tightening his grip on your hand and pulling you back into the room with him, kicking the door shut with his boot and lifting you into his arms in one swift movement.

You squealed a laugh and then he did smirk, his lips finding yours once more, as he walked you across the room and threw you down on his large, extravagant bed.

[wonnieluvr]

bells

pairing -> xander hawthorne x fem!reader

summary -> you buy xander a charm bracelet for your anniversary. now you can’t help the smile on your face when you hear those bells.

warnings -> you may die of cuteness, a little bit of financial um brokeness? mentioned 😭

a/n -> my first xander fic omg i love him so so so much :((( this sort of went off the rails but i think its still cute! (i'm nervous writing xander idk if i got his character right ahhhh)

in your defence, you hadn't realised when you'd bought the bracelet just how loud it was.

xander was a hard person to buy presents for. not because you didn't know him, you knew everything there was to know about him, he was your boyfriend after all, there was no one else you wanted to remember the little details about. it was more so that, well.. he was rich.

he had all that he could possibly ask for- material wise anyways- and it never took long for him to get his hands on anything. admittedly, you knew that it didn't always come from money (something you had heard about stolen car pieces) but it sure helped if anyone ever came looking for their belongings. you hadn't approved of that method but what could you do now? the current problem was something a little different..

you had taken avery shopping, in desperate need of the perfect present for your boyfriend. it was your 1 year anniversary and you had been stressing yourself out. it had to be the best present ever.

but when you had seen the bracelet.. oh god, he had to have it. you had your heart set on it, it was absolutely perfect for him. avery had tried to dissuade you when you had seen the price tag (you hadn't let her even offer to pay despite her recently acquired riches), suggesting you could find something else just as good for xander. but you couldn't tear your eyes away from bracelet. what absolutely sold you, however, was the accompanying charms, ready to be added year after year. your eyes were glued to the one of little robot and one of a heart, already imagining it on his wrist.

"i have to get it, ave" she had frowned, concerned, as you stayed pressed to the glass, staring longingly at the present. you were trying to convince yourself more than her, she knew that, you were fighting against yourself (and your bank account probably), trying to justify the purchase.

"its perfect" avery didn't know about that but she took your word for it, internally debating for herself if it was the best option.

"just get it, y/n/n" she finally sighed, shaking her head as your eyes lit up. "if you think it's worth it, get it"

and so you had, robot charms and all. and how glad you were you did.

he had even teared up when you beamed at him, so wide and looking as happy as you had ever felt. you were so sweet to him, he had sniffled, flushing and looking away as he asked you to put it on for him. he was never one to lose his confidence but you made the words escape him, he couldn't think straight when you stared at him like that, like he was your whole world.

not only had xander loved it- as you knew he would- he wore it everywhere. he never took it off, not that you knew of.

not even when the teasing started.

the teasing, you grinned at the thought. jameson had been the first to notice. every single time your boyfriend entered the room, jameson had smirked, chuckling and loudly exclaiming "y/n! your cat's here!"

you hadn't understood at first, sharing a confused look with xander as his tall form flopped beside you on the couch. it had taken you precisely two more comments to realise. he was ringing. you could hear him from rooms away, his entrance announced before he even made it into sight.

xander was an expressive person, he often used his hand when he talked, something you loved as he was so passionate and happy to share things with you. you had loved his rants before but you loved them even more now.

grayson had been the one to raise an eyebrow this time. you had been coming down to eat dinner when he had asked where xander was. before you could answer, you heard it. the ringing. it was high pitched and cute, sounding exactly like the bells on a cat's collar, alerting you of their presence immediately. seconds later, xander had bounded around the corner, a smile on his face. grayson had offered you an amused look as you both turned to each other, wide eyed.

"what was that?" xander frowned, a cheeky pout that never stuck long around you. "oh! are you conspiring against me? how dare you?!" he finished his dramatic cry with a poke to your ribs, beginning to tickle you. you laughed loudly, surprised and quickly pulling your arms down to cover your stomach from his onslaught.

"stop!" you cried out, grinning. "xander" you whined, stepping away from him and quickly moving to take a seat. he merely smiled after you, following diligently. your attention was caught again by the ringing on his wrist as he pulled out the chair beside you.

you tried to bite down the amused smile on your lips, not wanting him to notice in case he hated it (not that he ever would). xander had eyed you a moment longer, pondering and his gaze intense as he tried to work you out. he had given up when everyone begun eating, quickly becoming more interested in the food in front of him that whatever mischief you may have been up to.

there was always time to interrogate you later. and he had, just not until your own comments started.

you had been waiting for him to realise, it never usually took him long to work out what you were talking about. like jameson had, you begun to call out to him when he rounded the corner. he could no longer surprise you in hallways and scare you around corners, you could hear him coming.

for a few days he had only pouted and claimed you had some sort of sudden superpowered sense. you had laughed, in disbelief that he still hadn't realised. had he really not heard how loud the charms on his wrist were? you found it hard to believe with all of his genius that he couldn't work it out.

"here, kitty kitty" you called, wandering the hallways in search of your boyfriend. he had raised an eyebrow at the nickname at first but quickly got used to it.

he tended to disappear sometimes in the vast house. finding him was all part of the fun. when you did find him, it was in his room. you felt a little silly for not thinking of there first but it wasn't often he was in here when he could be anywhere else.

he froze as you opened the door, already suspicious.

"xander?" you cautiously eyed him, stepping into the room. you both watched each other for a moment, in a stalemate before your eyes drifted to his hands. he was in the middle of hiding a box, looking much like the one you had gifted him a few weeks ago. "what are you doing? is that-?"

he straightened up immediately, slightly embarrassed at being caught, he was usually good at distractions but there was not much he could do now that he had been caught. he held the box behind his back, mouth opening to come up with something to draw away your attention but you knew him.

"don't you dare distract me right now" you held up a finger in warning, eyes narrowing playfully. "why do you have a bracelet box?"

you paused, mind running wild with thoughts, one sticking out painfully. it jabbed at your chest and you lost all teasing in an instant, expression dropping.

"do you.. are you-" you begun, throat tightening.

he caught on almost as quickly as the thought came to you. "no!"

he jumped, closing the distance in quick strides. his hands came up to hold your upper arms, forcing you to look at him. you could feel the box press into your skin, hear the faint jingle of the bracelet. "it's for you" he held it out to you, hesitant.

your gaze was drawn to his wrist where your gift rested, unmoving since you had given it to him. you heart filled with warmth again, shining eyes meeting his.

"for me?" you whispered quietly, hands taking the box from him and gently lifting the lid to find a bracelet, once almost identical to one adorning his skin. he chewed on his lip, a grin threatening to spread across his lips in excitement.

"do you like it?" despite how sure of himself he was, you could always hear the underlying uncertainty, the worry you may not approve. you could feel tears slightly welling up, blinking harshly to hold them back as you took note of the scone charm.

"to remind you of me" he clarified, beginning to ramble the longer you took to say something. he was nervous. "i suppose i could have gotten you a better charm, i should have gotten one to suit you. but you mean as much to me as scones! not to compare you to food, but you know what i mean! i love you more than scones. you're so pretty and sometimes i just don't know what to say-"

"xander" you couldn't help the tears in your eyes this time. you loved him so much. "thank you" you whispered softly, nothing could take away the smile on your face right now.

"i love it. i love you" you held out your hand to let him put it on for you. when he had done the clasp up, you took his hand in yours, shaking them to hear the matching ringing. "two cats" you offhandedly joked, still basking in your glee.

his eyes widened, shaking your intertwined hands again. "cat collars"

"you actually didn't get that?" your own eyes widened, staring at him in shock. you both stared at each for a moment longer before dissolving into giggles.

[residenthughes]

square one

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.6K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, some angst, leon's dealing with some insecurities (acne) :(

summary: leon's always struggled with acne. a recent flareup brings up more than he bargained for.

notes: think i saw a post about the texture of leon's skin in the re4r, as well as a headcannon that he sometimes picks at his skin and idk, just felt compelled to write this. i struggled (still do) with hyperpigmentation from acne, so this was low-key self-indulgent (and me projecting, sorry leon 😭) so enjoy(?) the fruits of that! one more exam and i'll be active again (in between celebrating any chance that i get that exams are over) hope you enjoy! :)

He feels like a teenager again.

Full of angst and riddled with insecurity. There’s so much curiosity in his eyes, fingers gingerly grazing against the scarlet surface of his cheek with inflamed pimples. Leon thought he outgrew this. Despite the occasional picking at his skin when submerged in the anxieties that live rent free in his mind, his skin remained relatively calm rain or shine. It’s worst was when he was in high school, so awkward and unsure of everything. Redness dotted against his face, he felt like puberty brought out the worst in him, forced him to grow in a body now foreign to him, navigate the unknown territory that were his new feelings. It’s a time that isn’t all that nostalgic for him and when he stands in your shared bathroom, long into his adulthood - 27 years old - staring into his reflection, his life flashes before his eyes. He’s right back where he was. Nerdy and hesitant. 

He feels so small.

“Hey,” your call for his attention is soft, doused in all gentleness you can muster as you quietly observe your partner from the door frame. “You ok? Tea’s getting cold.”

Leon huffs in annoyance, not meaning to but when his eyes catch sight of how inflamed his skin is, it takes him gnawing inside his cheek to stop himself from spiralling. It’s so silly, insignificant even. Leon never really cared much for his appearance as an adult. Reminded fairly neutral in regards to himself, stance never swayed despite those that fell to his feet bewitched by his devastatingly good looks. His stance shifted when you two met. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, but in a good way. Do I smell good? Is my hair ok? Am I overdressed? All these little curiosities combated by the love you embrace him in. He doesn’t become confident - your love is not a fix-all remedy for years of trauma and insecurity. But he becomes more sure of himself, reassured and loved wholly. He picks up his own pieces, slowly but surely. You simply steer him in the right direction. A beautiful thing, a lovely thing.

In spite of this beautiful thing, Leon can get in his own way sometimes. Stares at his reflection too long when he’s been spiralling and simply meets your gaze with a vulnerability reserved only for you. “Skin’s been acting up.”

“Honey,” you approach him cautiously, like he’s made of porcelain and Leon leans into the gentleness without a care in the world. Your hands never make contact with him, knowing any touch might open the floodgates of emotional turmoil that slowly seep into his bloodstream, poisonous and harrowing in nature. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He grimaces, eyes avoiding yours as he shrinks into himself. “Been a stressful week is all.”

Leon flashes an unconvincing smile, puffing out a beat of laughter that is all but amused. “Guess this is the result of it, huh?”

Your heart sinks. You remember when this came up early in your relationship. You were often seeing each other, whether it was to go out on the town dressed to the nines or lounge around and snack on whatever junk food (of which there was very little in Leon’s apartment) you two could find. He refused to see you, citing long work days and the lack of energy they left him with as his reasons. You respected his wishes, giving him his space and all the time he needed before finding his way back to you. However, you couldn’t ignore the voice at the back of your head, nudging you towards him with pleas of assurance. Reassurance that he was ok and wasn’t deserting you for reasons you could help with.

You bumped into him on his way back from the grocery store.

Against his better judgement, Leon needed to restock his shelves with leafy greens to rid himself quickly of the acne against his cheeks. He knew you were at work, so he took his chance and sped ran through the isles, mask pulled up to his eyes as he simply went about his business. Packing his grocery bags quickly and making big steps towards his car, only to run into you in the parking lot.

He expects you to drop your belongings. Dramatises the whole scene in his head, imagines your face twisting in disgust and murmuring a half-hearted excuse to leave the conversation early to block his number because his insecurities have gotten the best of him and he can’t think any worse of himself than he is now. 

It’s all fiction, the tragic story he paints in his head. Sees you give a small smile, cautious and coy.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he muses, the awkwardness of his predicament leaving him with nothing but the desire for the ground to swallow him whole. “Would have dressed up a bit.”

You laugh a bit, easing the pain but Leon still wants to leave regardless, foot pointed away from you with his body slightly turning towards the direction of his car.

You take note of his body language and make the conversation flow as casually as possible. “Yeah, I got off work early and was actually gonna pick up some things to come see you.”

“See me?” 

“Yeah, think it’s to be expected to want to see your partner.” you joke lightheartedly, eying the tension that leaves Leon’s shoulders as they relax back from his ears. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Leon starts. “But, I’ve gotta head back to the office…printer’s jammed.”

“Again?”

It ‘jammed’ last week. Along with some other atrocities that left Leon MIA all last week and this week too. It’s not too long to question, but the distance between you is growing unlike times before. It unsettles you.

“Can’t work that thing to save my life. So, it’s my obligation to fix it.”

“Leon,” you’re seeing through his act, calling for the denouement to the charade Leon orchestrates. He feels sickly doing this - this isn’t what you deserve, he knows that. But, during one of scarce times in his life that he’s self-conscious, is it so horrible to want to be left alone? “You’ve been a bit MIA recently. You sure you’re holding up alright?”

He questions for a moment telling you. Disclosing his recent flare up because he knows it isn’t a bad deal, especially with you who nurtures a safe space for him to call home. And he does, he goes to tell you, but in a desperate attempt for closeness, you step forwards and he’s stepping back and suddenly there’s a deafening silence between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s ok,” you reassure, time and time again. His heart hurts from the constant push and pull that plagues your relationship. It wasn’t something you had to deal with. “Just talk to me. Please?”

It’s different seeing you like this. Over text, it’s easier (but not impossible) to tap away at the screen and desert his phone, submerging himself in work to fend off any thoughts that attempt to crawl into his brain. But you’re here, right in front of him. Eyes soft and so unbearably honest with your state of being. It tears him up inside. Makes him acknowledge every attempt to distance himself from you and never do it again if the same circumstances arose.

Leon makes the situation right. Approaches you despite the screams at the back of his head and heads back to his apartment with you sitting in the passenger seat, describing the acne flare ups that in spite of the demons he faces on his missions, makes him react like no other. You comfort him as best as possible, listening to every word he says and not bothering with unsolicited advice or shallow comments that won’t help the situation. You simply craft an evening filled with distractions, all his favourite in-home activities whilst showering him with all the affection he’s missed. And when it comes time to wash up and settle into bed, you make light of the situation, giving him one of the Sanrio headbands you had left in his apartment as you two clean up for the night, the space and comfort you give him enough for him to crawl into your arms under the covers and never let go. It’s an act of service, a day, that he’ll never forget. One that allows him to bare himself to you, years later, and let you take the reins because this, on top of the travesties he’s encountered far too often lately, have made him feel like a shell of himself. 

“It’s hard to keep up with everything when you’re so busy, isn’t it?” He nods. “You’ve been working hard, always have. Saving the world isn’t an easy feat, you know?”

He laughs, this time around humoured. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Well, whatever you do,” he laughs again and you can see him slowly coming back to you. You flash him a smile, a smile that holds timeless tales of your love story and his heart begins to warm. “It’s perfectly normal to get some R&R afterwards. It’s well deserved, especially in your case.”

He simpers, now having worked up the nerve to look into your eyes and in them, sees that dazzle. The same dazzle from your first glance, from your first confession. Even at his lowest, the dazzle remains. Your love, unwavering. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, all of which he does when he feels like himself again. Showers you in abundance and more because that’s what you deserve and more.

“How about I run us a hot bath? You can tell me all about the printer jamming whilst I wash your hair, yeah?” 

He feels like a teenager again. This time, abundant in all the love he has for you.

[hier--soir]

under the night | six

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] language, being held captive, angst, serious violence, torture, injury, blood, discussions of murder, threat of sexual assault [DOES NOT HAPPEN], very brief discussion of religion/the bible, idk if you think i missed anything please let me know word count: 6k part five | series masterlist | main masterlist

Clink, clink.

Maria was drinking a cup of earl grey tea. The bergamot has a calming effect, she’d said, would you like a cup? Her spoon swirled in the teacup, bumping against the china every so often as she mixed in a sugar cube. The cup was pretty, a cream colour with pale pink gerbera flowers painted along the porcelain. Clink, clink; the spoon knocked the side of it again, the woman still unsatisfied by the granules of sugar visible in the dark liquid. It was the only sound in the room, bar the soft pattering of rain on the roof, as the four of them sat silently around Maria and Tommy’s dinner table.

Joel huffed in frustration as she finally lifted the spoon from the liquid and placed it gingerly on the saucer, before raising the cup to her mouth and taking her first sip. She sighed happily, relaxing in her chair as she savoured the taste.

“Okay,” she murmured, looking around the table.

“Oh, we can talk now?” Joel snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “You’ve got your fuckin’ tea and now you’re ready?”

“Joel,” Tommy warned his brother quietly. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Well, she could’ve fuckin’ fooled me,” he said spitefully in the woman’s direction. “It’s been days, and you haven’t ordered any searches, haven’t questioned anyone.”

Maria raised her hand to stop him, “It’s a delicate situation.”

“No, Joel’s right,” Cal spoke up. The bags under his eyes were heavy, hair greasy and slicked back off his forehead; the appearance of a man who hadn’t slept in days. “You run things here, and I always thought you did a damn good job of it too. But she’s gone missing, and you’re just sitting back and waiting? For what?” 

“Things are returning to normal here,” she said lowly. “People are calming down, and I don’t want to raise any alarm bells if I don’t need to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joel all but snarled.

“It means that I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to leave,” she levelled at him, one eyebrow raised accusatorially. Clink, clink. He flinched as she dipped her spoon back into the cup, tapping it against the rim. “Ellie told me.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand forming a fist below the table. “Told you what exactly?” 

Maria gave him a conspiratorial look. “She told me about being strangled, Joel. She came here a few days ago, upset after hearing the news, and we talked. Ellie worries that she might have left out of guilt… and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”

“Wait,” Cal’s eyebrows raised in alarm, eyes darting between Maria and Joel. “What the fuck are you talki-“

“No one was fuckin’ strangled,” Joel ground out, doing his best to stay calm. “Ellie wasn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us; there’s no god damn way she’d even think to go outside those gates alone.”

Joel’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace at Maria’s insinuation, shaking his head jerkily. The last conversation he’d had with you played on his head in a constant loop, the image of your face distorted in despair, the feeling of your guilty tears on his neck – it tormented him. Kept him awake all night, and on edge all day. The idea that you might have decided to leave, out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or fear, or… or because of something he’d said. His chest tightened at the thought. He’d told you not to stay at the house if he wasn’t there, hadn’t he? That’s why you’d gone home alone that night, instead of coming back to him. It won’t happen again, is what you said. Joel mulled the words over in his mind endlessly, searching for a hidden meaning in your tone that he might have missed; a plan to leave him.

Tommy watched the three of them silently, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. To see Joel be so distraught was hard for him. Ellie had confided in Tommy that Joel had hardly spoken for the past three days. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. She kept a close eye on him and didn’t pry; simply sat quietly in whatever room he resided in, and just kept a watchful eye on him. Tommy couldn’t thank her enough for it. He’d watched his brother experience so much loss, so much heartache, and he cringed to realise they were witnessing it happen to him all over again.

“She wouldn’t leave me,” Cal broke the silence, his voice cracking on the last word. He reached up hastily to wipe the corner of his eye. “We made an agreement when we first got here. If either one of us decides we aren’t happy, then we leave – together. No questions asked. She wouldn’t break a promise.”

Joel glanced at the younger man, absorbing his words with a blank expression. It still unnerved him sometimes; to gain further insights into the tightknit bond between you and Cal, but he pushed all negative feelings down, knowing the he was right.

“She’s still in Jackson,” Joel said with a tone of finality, straightening his shoulders.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Maria asked. “I’ve already asked so much of our community, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”

“Some fuckin’ community it is,” he muttered. “Women gettin’ stolen out of their god damn homes.”

Tommy gave him a look that said, not helpful. Joel ignored him.

“We question them – all of them,” he asserted. “Ransack every fuckin’ house in this town if we have to. She’s here somewhere – whoever’s doin’ this can’t keep her hidden for long.”

Maria nodded slowly, sparing a short glance in her husband’s direction. “We’ll question people then. If we go to the right ones, someone is bound to spill something.”

Tommy stared at his brother, taking in the way he stared intensely at the woman. “You can’t be a part of it though,” he said softly. Joel’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowing.

“Tommy,” he glared, only to be quickly interrupted.

“You’re too high strung, both of you are,” Tommy said, glancing between Joel and Cal. “If you’re out there knockin’ down doors, you’re just gonna scare people off, and somebody will get hurt. We can’t risk you two causing a scene.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Cal grunted, hand smacking down on the table.

“You won’t be,” Maria said firmly. “Someone needs to be waiting if she shows up. So wait. If she shows up at either of your homes, you’ll be there.”

“You’re fuckin’ delusional if you thin-“

“Stop,” Maria interrupted softly. “Have either of you taken a moment to consider it might already be too late? It’s been three days… Do you really want to be the ones to find her if she’s…. I’m trying to keep you both separated from this, for your sakes.”

“I’m not fuckin’ listenin’ to this,” Joel grunted, pushing his chair from the table and stalking towards the front door. With his hand gripping the doorknob, he turned his head to the side, staring back at them from the corner of a tear-filled eye.

“She is out there somewhere, alive, puttin’ up a goddamn fight. And when I find her,” he spoke with his back to them, voice dangerously quiet. “I’m going to kill everyone who had anything to do with this. And you two won’t be able to stop me.”

Joel didn’t need to look at him to know that Cal agreed.

The curtains were always the first thing you saw. When your eyelids managed to crack open, to break through the dried blood that crusted over your eyelashes, you would always notice them first. Large, bundled drapes that reached the floor, covering the walls, concealing the windows and any potential natural light. It was so dark all of the time, and so time had lost meaning. You couldn’t tell how many hours, or days, had passed. All you knew was that the curtains, made from a dark fabric, with pictures of small birds sewn onto them, were the first thing you saw every time you opened your eyes.

Sparrows, the thought whispered through your mind. Little sparrows sewn into the curtains.

A small metal table was positioned in the corner opposite to where you laid on a thin mattress, arms tied to a pipe protruding from the wall. Sometimes your eyes flickered to it, trying to glean what was on it, but it was futile because of the distance. Candles were placed sporadically around the edges of the room, providing a vague yellow light to the space which allowed you see these things. But no natural light meant not knowing when the sun rose and fell., so you learned to rely on a different schedule. Twice a day he would bring a meal into the room, and you did your best to note the time passing, but even that provided little relief. Dehydration and pain had you dropping in and out of consciousness, and you rejoiced in the respite that sleep brought. Sleep brought quiet. Waking, however, brought with it a stark reminder of where you were.

An unpleasant stretching sensation resided in your arms. The muscles burned from hyperextension from constantly stretching behind you to the wall, your hands numb from a lack of blood flow due to how taught the rope around your wrist was pulled. But no matter how uncomfortable, you never turned your back to the door. That way he couldn’t enter the room without you seeing him immediately.

The throbbing in your foot, and the smell of metal was always what you noticed next. Blood stained the lower half of the mattress, and you did your best not to look down. But the smell was overwhelming, and you knew you had to see how much blood you’d lost. Your right foot was caked in dried blood, and the sight of one of your toes missing was enough to make your stomach curl every time, as waves of violent nausea rolled through you.

“That’s fine,” you whispered hoarsely, attempting to convince yourself. “Never used that one anyway, can live without it.”

Talking to yourself helped. Although your thoughts were often delirious and half-baked, hearing your own voice out loud brought a certain sense of calm.

And you’d formed a routine. Where every time you woke, you calmed your breathing, and forced yourself to decide how you were going to behave. How to survive another encounter with him. You’d chosen violence the first time, and you came to sorely regret it.

He’d been watching you that first day; waiting for you to stir. It had been dark, but you still saw him instantly. Cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress you laid on, dark beady eyes bearing down on your skin like weights. The itchy burn of rope against your wrists wasn’t as noticeable at first, for you were distracted by the thick wad of material in your mouth, placed there to keep you silent. When your brain had fully woken up, you’d glared at him in a wide-eyed panic, moaning urgently against the cloth between your teeth, tears brimming in your eyes. No, no, no, no.

“Shh,” Lincoln had murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “It’s okay, shh.”

Tentatively, he reached down and tugged the cloth out of your mouth. You sucked in sharp panicked breaths, staring up at him as the feeling of white-hot terror spread through your veins, all the way from your neck down to your feet. It was him. All along, all the women, it had been him. This embarrassing, weak man, who’d had you fucking fooled. You’d thought him a creep, but not this. Never this.

“Breathe,” he’d whispered, stroking your cheek with his fingers. Heaving sighs tore out of your mouth, and you turned your head in his hold, brushing your nose along the palm of his hand. His eyes shone with appreciation at the gesture, and he smiled. “You’re here with me now. It’s just you and me.”

Holding his gaze for a split second longer, you sank your teeth into the flesh of his hand. He shouted in pain, attempted to pull back, but you bit him harder, deeper. The taste of metal filled hit your tongue, but you didn’t let go until his other hand struck you across the face, knocking you back.

He'd hit your left side, and the all-too-familiar buzzing soared through your ear, exacerbating the pounding in your skull. “You cunt,” he spat, rising to his feet. He glared down at you, cradling his wounded hand against his chest.

And then his foot was slamming into your ribcage. “You stupid,” kick “fucking” kick “cunt” kick. The breath left your body, and you curled in on yourself on the thin mattress, wheezing, until he gave up.

“You won’t do that again,” his reedy voice called out from behind you. “Do you understand?”

Your back was to him, eyes clamped shut as you tried desperately to regulate your breathing. A stabbing pain burned in your right side, flaring every time your chest expanded with a breath. His hand came down on your shoulder, flattening you on the mattress.

“Speak,” he had snarled. “You will answer me when I talk to you, SPEAK.”

Your bloody lips stayed sealed in defiance, glaring up at him. Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward, lips stretching open to reveal a faded set of crooked teeth until he was grinning down at you. “Okay,” he nodded, reaching into his pocket and walking to the end of the mattress. “You want to see what happens when you disobey me in my house? I’ll show you what happens.”

It had been quick.

Flashes of it were burnt into your memory, but the feeling of the moment evaded you when you thought back on it. Him kneeling on your shins, saying “Do as I say, or I’ll clip your wings, little bird.” Pliers in his hand. The feeling of the cold metal on your foot. The smell of iron. A pinkie toe on the floor, by the mattress, in a crimson puddle.

Your hoarse, tormented wails had filled the room so suddenly that Lincoln was cursing while he stuffed the rag back between your lips, muttering something about people hearing you.

He had loomed over you, torso pressed against yours, gritting his teeth and laughing. Put his hands around your neck and whispered of the stories he’d heard about you, that he’d wondered about you since the day Tommy introduced him to you. “I think that was the moment I decided,” he said. “The moment I knew you were going to be mine – it was the very first time I saw you.”

“I wanted to know what he saw in you,” he’d jeered, breath hot against your neck. His hand gripped your throat, squeezing your windpipe intermittently, only ever letting up when your eyes started to roll back and the pressure inside your skull from a lack of oxygen started to become unbearable, only to increase the pressure again once you’d had a few seconds to breathe. “I’d always thought you must be a good lay, if you’ve got big bad Joel Miller whipped like a dog. Realised pretty damn quick I’d have to find out for myself.” Your arms fought tirelessly against the ropes that bound you to the wall, limbs thrashing beneath him, trying to inflict any sort of pain on him.

You frantically mouthed the word no around the rag, lungs heaving in search of oxygen. The last thing you saw before you passed out was his haunting grin.

And you were smarter after that.

Lincoln was hard to read. When he came to the room next, he acted as though the altercation had never happened. And so you followed suit. You listened when he spoke, and answered accordingly. You ate the food he slid across the floor to you. You held in a disgusted reaction when he gestured to the candles around the room one time, and said, “Romantic isn’t it? Candlelit dinner for two?”  

In the quiet moments, your mind would float away, and you’d allow yourself brief moments of respite, imagining that you were somewhere, anywhere, else. In your dreams, you were with Joel. Safe in his home, in his bed, playing scrabble with Ellie on his porch while he kept score. You tried to remember the way his laugh sounded, or the way his hands felt on your skin. But everything was warped, the memories unclear. Your brain lacked clarity, and the pain distracted you. And Lincoln could tell where your thoughts went in those moments; you almost feared he could read your mind. As if your brain was splayed open before him, and he was pecking at it in curiosity.

“No one will find you,” he’d say softly. Never nastily, but in a tone that was matter of fact. “They aren’t coming for you. It’s just you and me now, sweet girl.”

You would blink away the tears in your eyes and try not to let him see how afraid you were that he was right. Your memories with Joel felt so hazy, and the last time you’d seen him he had been devastated. He feared what you’d almost done to Ellie, feared how out of his control it had been. Maybe it’s for the best, the thought raced through your brain. Maybe they’ll be happier without you.

Those thoughts were the hardest to shake. And they cut deeper than any injury Lincoln could ever inflict.

One night, when it felt like almost a week had passed, Lincoln entered the room holding two plates.

“Dinner time,” his thin voiced called, and a chill ran down your spine. Slowly, you pushed yourself into a seated position, cringing as pain shot through your side.

He placed a plate beside the mattress before tenderly undoing the rope around your left wrist.

“Eat up,” he murmured, taking a few steps back before settling onto the ground and picking up his fork.

You gazed down at the raw red marks around your wrist, basking in your favourite moment of the day – just a few sweet minutes of ‘freedom’. With an aching chest, you saw what rested on the plate. A kind of dark meat, and a small serving of parsnips.

Oh, Joel.

Sucking your lips into you mouth, you willed the tears in your eyes to dry up, desperate not to let him see any sign of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Lincoln reaching out across the space between you, and then he placed his thumb and forefinger over the big toe on your right foot, squeezing it once in a silent threat. Your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to pull away. Speak.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered hoarsely, staring at the food.

“It’s dinner time, when else would I feed you?” he attempted to joke, hand leaving your foot to pick his fork up again. When you didn’t respond the smile slipped off his face. “You’re in a bad mood today,” he decided. “I suppose I understand.”

He watched you like a hawk, eyes raking over your features, your bloodstained clothes, the way you gazed despondently at the plate before you. “Surely you can appreciate though… I mean, it’s just… delightful, don’t you see? To see someone be brought down to their basest human form. No sunlight, minimal human interaction. You rely on me for water, for food, for company. I am all you have anymore, and it is simply… delicious.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you shuddered involuntarily, his words making goosebumps break out across your skin. 

“I think so,” Lincoln nodded contemplatively. “It’s not inherently sexual though, I’ll have you know.” You stared, and he let out a low chuckle, hands raising defensively. “Not entirely, at least.”

“You’ll get caught,” you sneered, ignoring the way a cut on your upper lip reopened when your mouth pulled open to reveal your teeth. “You’ll slip up and someone will notice. Joel will notice.”

“Only time will tell,” he mused around a mouthful of food. “Never been caught before though, have I? Not with Milena, or any of the others before you. Not even with my wife; although it was certainly easier to get away with it in those days. The world had gone to shit – everyone was going missing; assumed to be dead or infected. It was so easy. Our girls never had a clue. They trusted me, you see? My beautiful little birds. Believed me when I told them she was lost, that she must’ve been infected. I think that’s what I adore the most – the trust. It was hard to come by here, in Jackson. People were so wary, I had to build up their confidence in me. Really ease into things, you know? But some of these women, they just saw what they wanted to see. A few kind smiles, some silly jokes, and they were mine.” Lincoln sighed wistfully, gazing absentmindedly at the curtains. “Do you like them?” he changed the subject suddenly. “They’re sparrows. Sewed them on myself.” Good God, he was still so fucking chatty.

Nausea twisted in your abdomen. Acidic bile burned in the back of your throat, threatening to bring up the pathetic contents of your stomach. “And your daughters?” you hesitated, wary of angering him. “I… I remember you saying they died.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you noticed one of his eyebrows twitch at the mention of his late children. “I let them go quickly,” he exhaled with a shrug. “Painlessly. It didn’t make sense to make them endure this world anymore. It was a mercy, if anything.”

“Fresh out of mercy then?” you asked bitterly. “If you’re so kind, and so fucking merciful, then why the are you dragging this out? Why won’t you just fucking end it?”

Fork dropping onto his plate with a loud clang, Lincoln murmured your name kindly. “Please understand,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. You might be my last for a few months… so I’m trying to savour every minute I have with you.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly as you absorbed his words. How long could you possibly survive down here in these conditions? But the truth was, you knew the answer to that. You knew because you’d survived for years out in the open, with less food and less water than this. Here you had shelter, warmth, food, and water. He could keep you alive for as long as he wanted you.

Realising it had been some time since you responded to him you offered a meek smile and said, “Tell me more about the sparrows.”

Lincoln looked at you curiously. Trying not to appear uncertain, you reached forward and scooped some food from the plate with your free hand and began to eat. The action alone reminded you of Cal. Of dark nights, huddled together in dusty broken-down buildings, eating whatever food you’d been able to find out of the palms of your hands. You sniffled pathetically and tried not to think about him again.

“Good girl,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and you fought off a shiver. Swallowing made your chest ache. Based on the swelling around the middle of your torso, you assumed at least one of your ribs was broken. Even inhaling brought a sharp pain to your right side, but swallowing? That was a whole other world of pain.

Lincoln spoke about the birds, told you how they symbolised joy and simplicity, and your eyes flitted around the room, taking in as much as you could in the dim yellow light. And then suddenly, he was turning his head fully to stare at the curtains. His back was almost entirely to you, and your heart stuttered painfully at the opportunity that had presented itself. From this angle, you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in his peripheral vision. Was this on purpose? Was it a test? Heart pounding, you worked silently to push the remaining food off your ceramic plate and onto the floor. Eyes focused on him, you waited for him to turn back, to check in on you, to do anything – but he didn’t.

“You know in the bible,” he said thoughtfully. “Sparrows represented God’s love and care for his creations.”

You hummed in response, gripping the plate in your hand and edging forward. Sweat tickled your forward, made your skin itch. You wanted to wipe away the fresh blood that had oozed from your lip onto your chin, but you refrained. No sudden movements. He was so close now, and this chance would not be wasted on you.

Do not be afraid, you thought.

Blood rushed in your ears as you propelled yourself forward, smashing the plate down upon the crown of his skull.

Lincoln pitched forward, his face knocking against the cold ground with a sickening thwack. He howled a ragged, guttural noise of pain, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time too slow. A fiery pain roared in your side from the movement and you whimpered, dropping the jagged shard of the plate that remained in your hand. Gripping his ankle, you cried out at the strength required to tug his body toward you. He was writhing on the ground, trying to fight against the fog in his brain no doubt, but you pulled him still, until he was perfectly close.

He mumbled your name, and you brought your fist down over his nose, effectively shutting him up.

“Stop fucking saying my name,” you growled, angrily swiping perspiration off your upper lip. This was it. If this didn’t work out, if he regained the upper hand, you’d be dead, no questions asked. You’d started this, and now would certainly be your only chance to finish it. God, your ribs were on fire. You hastily dragged a fragment of the plate in a sawing movement across the rope keeping your other wrist tied, and when it broke away, you heaved a painful sigh of relief.

Planting your knees on either side of his body, you straddled his chest, trapping his arms to his torso. You patted down his body, searching his pockets until you found what you were looking for. The pliers were cold and heavy in your hand. Lincoln blinked lazily, gazing past your shoulder at the roof.

You reached down and gripped the sides of his head. “Look at me,” you seethed, before slamming his head back into the ground. He groaned loudly, but his eyes focused on your face. Blood poured from his nose, spilling into his open mouth and filling the gaps between tooth and gum.

“You won’t kill me,” he garbled out around the crimson liquid. “My little bird… I know you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Stop talking,” you moved to be beside his body and pressed your knee onto his left arm.

“You won’t,” he was speaking incessantly now, rambling. “I know you, you’re good. You’re so good, you sweet girl. You wouldn’t kill, and that’s why I like you. I could see it in you. You’re too good for this world, I’m trying to help you, don’t you see?”

“Shut up,” you snarled, pushing the pliers down until they were positioned around his pinkie finger. “You think you fucking know me? You have no idea of the things I’ve done.”

His eyes blinked lazily, trying listlessly to focus. His free hand reached sluggishly towards your face, and you batted it down roughly. Gripping the pliers in both hands, you pressed down. The sound of his screams filled the room as his pinkie finger rolled across the floor.

“You want me to come into my home,” you sneered. “Take me, hide me away, and then kill me?” Positioning the tool over his ring finger, you cut him slowly, revelling in the pained sounds leaving his body, the way his blood spilled onto your hands as you worked. “Oh, Lincoln. You’ll have to try harder than this.”

Again and again, you worked with a gruellingly slow pace, removing all five digits. You didn’t notice that his free hand was gripping your arm so tightly that his nails had drawn blood. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Do not be afraid.

“Please,” he was sobbing, his mouth wide open like a sore on his face, jagged teeth exposed through thin bloody lips.

And yet as he begged, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse, because through the tears, and the snot, and the blood, it wasn’t just Lincoln that you saw. It was that boy, from a decade ago. That boy that climbed on top of you and laughed. Who enjoyed your fear. Who held you down that night, and every night after, plaguing you in your sleep for years. The boy you couldn’t fight. The boy you couldn’t kill. You wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.

A memory flitted through your mind so quickly it almost didn’t register. But his voice was clear in your head. Joel, and the words you’d shared in front of the fireplace at your home so many weeks beforehand.

“I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You refocused on Lincoln’s face.

“You want to be in control?” you sputtered, vaguely aware of how deranged your shrill voice sounded. “You want women to be quiet little toys for you to play with in this sick game you’ve created? I’m a fucking person! I’m real!” your voice cracked. “You want to kill me, Lincoln? Let’s see you do it without your fucking fingers.” You realised then that you were crying. Soundless tears streaked down your cheeks, leaving clear trails in the dirt and blood that stained your face.  

He looked on the verge of passing out, and you tore his hand off your arm, stumbling away from his body. You stepped awkwardly on your right foot and yelped in pain, grimacing at the bloody footprint that followed behind you when you walked. Wrapping an arm around your torso, against your ribs, you struggled to breathe. Running on pure adrenaline, your eyes drifted toward the table in the corner. A pocketknife and a lighter laid serenely on the top of it, and you stumbled toward it slowly.  

But a heavy blow landed on the back of your knee, stopping you in your tracks. Your arms flailed as you fell forward, and when you hit the ground, the table came toppling down with you.

“S-stop,” Lincoln was speaking, his speech slurred and disjointed. His bloodied hands clawed at your legs, pulling your body towards him while you thrashed against his hold. Your leg kicked backward desperately and connected with his face, and you screamed at the throbbing pain that shot through your foot.

Neither of you noticed how the table had knocked over multiple candles, or the way fire blazed along the bottom of the curtains. Little sparrows, turning to ash as flames snaked their way up the drapes, slowly engulfing the walls of the room in vibrant red.

You fumbled for the pocketknife on the floor, rolling onto your back just as his weight landed on top of you. His heavy breaths hit your face, blood dripping from his nose and splashing onto your skin.

“Little bird,” he whimpered brokenly. “Why would you ruin this?”

The temperature in the room had risen exponentially, and the pair of you were so close to the wall that it was impossible to ignore now. Wild flames licked at the bare skin of your arm, but you paid the burn no mind, pushing against his face, his neck, trying to get as much distance between you as possible.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he howled, landing a heavy blow across your face. You coughed roughly, blood spitting up from your mouth onto your chin.

You gave up on pushing him back, instead using your hands to fumble with the knife. Lincoln’s good hand gripped your throat, his remaining fingers pressing down on your windpipe. Blood roared in your ears, and you were sweating, and god it was so hot. The air thickened with smoke, making it harder to breathe than it already was. Your hands were so slick with blood that it was difficult to unhook the small blade, but after a few moments you did it. Gasping for air as he bore his entire weight against your neck, you plunged the knife into his side.

A choked sound of surprise fell from his mouth, and then air was rushing into your lungs, and you were coughing harshly, watching as his body collapsed to the side of you.

He was still alive when you crawled on top of him, eyes bulging as he gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his side. You slammed your fist against his broken nose, and both of you cried out in pain. By this point, the fire was roaring through the room, the four walls covered in a beautiful mix of orange and red flames. The heat was sweltering, and so so close that sweat dripped from your nose and chin.

A deafening bang reverberated through the room and you covered your face instinctively. Shattered glass from the windows rained through the air and covered the ground, and moonlight streamed into the room.

Distantly, you thought you could hear voices, or the sound of a door opening, but you ignored it. Impossible. Your fingers wrapped around Lincoln’s spindly neck, and you positioned your thumbs over his windpipe, before pressing downward with all of the strength in your body. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, but you pushed through it, gathering blood and spit in your mouth and releasing it in a spray onto his face. He flinched back at the sensation, and you grinned messily.

You imagined briefly what you must look like; covered in a mix of blood and dirt, hair matted to your head, straddling this man, and grinning down at him.

“Are you afraid?” you whispered.

You could see the light slowly fading from his eyes, and you pressed harder, arms burning with the effort. A burning sensation exploded in your left thigh, but you ignored it, digging your elbows into his chest for leverage and pushing. In the second you realised it was about to be over, there were hands on you. Gripping you, wrapping around your waist, wrenching you away from him.

The foreign hands were pulling you back, tugging you towards the door, but your eyes were trained on Lincoln, as he gasped for air on the floor, alive. You could hear shouting, male voices yelling so closely, but the words were indecipherable. And then suddenly, you were enveloped by cold, winter air. You were outside.

Hyperventilating, you dropped to your knees on the ground, burying your red hands in the wet grass, and wailed. Thick tears blurred your vision and rolled down your face in hot rivulets.

The relief was short lived though, as those hands returned to your body. Gliding over your back, squeezing your shoulders, touching your face. Your stomach rolled violently.

“Don’t touch me,” you begged, your voice an unfamiliar shriek as it ripped from somewhere deep inside your body. “Get your fucking hands off me, don’t fucking touch me, don-“

“Darlin’, it’s me, it’s me,” you could hear, but you just fought harder, beating against the solid wall of brick in front of you, pounding your fists against his chest.

“I’ll fucking,” you gasped for air, eyes clamped tightly shut. “I’ll fucking kill you, get away from me.”

But familiar hands were gripping your face, holding you tightly, forcing you to look, and when you did, it’s like your body went limp. All the fight in you disappeared.

You mumbled his name, and he nodded furiously, those brown eyes you loved gazing into yours, panic and concern evident in the harsh lines across his forehead, in that deep frown you knew so well.

“It’s me, baby, I’ve got you,” his voice was like a song in your ears, and you closed your eyes and let him hold you, listening to the desperate apologies he whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ve got you now, it’s over, it’s over.”

part seven

tag list <3

@huffle-punk @n7cje @ghostofjoharvelle @nrmnie @sarahhxx03 @casa-boiardi @leeeesahhh @missgurrl

[igotlovestruck]

LIPS OF AN ANGEL | MM19

PAIRING: mason mount x wolff!reader ; a bit of george russell x wolff!reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: profanities, mentions cheating/infidelity, mason's anger is totally understandable, y/n's a bit of a bitch(? idk towards the end tho), rushed ending bc i really wanted to end this hahahah, also not proofread and tons of dialogues ahhahah

WC: 4k

A/N: i apologize for uploading this soo late 😭 i had writers block for a long while :< anyway, enjoy reading!

TAGGED: @i83andrew @pleasantducktimetravel

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

now, four months have passed since you’ve broken up with mason (or at least that was what your letter stated). in those months, mason finds himself longing for you. the man often finds himself up most nights, sleeping so late and waking up so early to head to training and other prior schedules he has every day.

mason would not deny it; that if someone were to ask if he had tried contacting you, your dad and even your stepmum. the couple would always say that they don’t know your whereabouts, but deep inside, he knows they know and knowing you, you were probably the one who asked them not to tell him. the first month was the hardest, he tried calling you every night and every chance he got while on his schedule. he was waiting for your voicemail greeting to play just to hear your voice and after that, he’d record what he wanted to say. a mixture of i love you’s, i miss you’s and please come back. 

it wasn’t easy with you as well. you missed mason and you missed the days where it was just the two of you in your own little world. if you could only go back in time, you’d never leave the house during the night of your fight and maybe this never would’ve happened. you missed seeing mason on the other side of the bed; you weren’t a morning person but whenever there’s a chance that you wake up before him, you’d watch him sleep and listen to his gentle snores while you lightly trace his beard with the tip of your finger. you missed snuggling to him during cold mornings, you missed the lazy make-outs because he couldn’t get his hands off of you, you missed him whispering sweet nothings in your ear after you wake up. you missed mornings with mason, too bad you can no longer relive those moments.

though you can’t help that every time you wake up, you have that thought that you could go back to london, you could return his calls, you could return back to mason and restart your relationship. but every time you do think of doing those things, you’re reminded of what you did. all those lies you’ve told him, and those days where you were away and sleeping with another man. 

going back to the man you’ve hurt seems such a foolish thing to do, and you know the people around mason wouldn’t allow such a thing. though you may think that mason would have the same thinking as the others, he sometimes does not. he wanted to risk it all again with you, he wanted to try and fix it with you. all he wanted is you and you alone.

going back to mason is something that you want to do but wouldn’t do. and on the fourth month, 5 day mark, mason had revealed his month long relationship with a model, lia mendes.

honey, why you calling me so late?

it’s kinda hard to talk right now. 

honey, why you crying, is everything okay?

i gotta whisper cause i can’t be too loud.

you stood in your living room filled with moving boxes, susie and toto were outside while jack was napping inside your bedroom. all you could do was sigh. it felt so weird moving into a new apartment–let alone moving to the southeast corner of france. monaco was a lovely place to live in, knowing that your father lives here (though he travels most of the time), the fact that you live nearby brings you some sort of relief, safety and comfort. though, as many people have said, you disappeared off the face of the earth for a few months, you’ve lived your life quietly with your mum for a while as you wait for the situation with mason to die down.

you were in a rush when you left london the night you told mason you were just going to the store. you left without even taking a second look, not even an ounce of thought. sure, it was a wrong move—a dumb decision as well, but you wanted to run away from all the mistakes you’ve made. you wanted to escape. leave everything you have to the place you once loved—now a place you dread the most. it was not the easiest decision either, but it was the only solution that you could think of.

the night you left mason, you didn’t go to the store. instead, you met george. again, a clandestine meeting. you messaged george when you were a few blocks away from his place, which is why you met a furious brit.

“have you lost your mind, kid?” he says, god you hated that nickname. it was the nickname that toto knew george gave you and became the hint that you and the driver are close. “she could’ve caught me! she could’ve seen your bloody message! why did you want to see me—”

“i told him, george. he–he probably saw the letter by now because i left a few hours ago.”

the driver’s eyes widened, definitely not the sentence he was not expecting to hear from you. suddenly, he didn’t know what to do or say. george tried to pull you in his arms, but you were quick to push him away. “this… george! this is exactly why we need to stop what’s between us!” you said, “i can’t believe i’m saying this but i regret everything that happened between us. i regret taking advantage of mason and carmen. i hate how i know that dad will be so disappointed in me. so please, let’s stop this… we can’t keep hurting and breaking the trusts of the people around us.” 

your voice cracks by the end of the last sentence, you could feel george staring at you but you kept your gaze on your feet. no strength to look at his eyes because you know that this man would do anything just to make you stay. 

“but baby—”

from calling you kid to baby—you hated it. you felt disgusted. you needed to end it.

“no, george. no buts.” you cut off, “i have to go. i… i wish you all the best.”

you walk back to your car, locking the doors in case george runs after you. again, without looking back, you drive away. leaving the confused brit in the empty street.

and even though you ended things with george that night, he hadn’t stopped calling and texting you—afraid that you might say anything about your relationship to others, even with friends and family. all he ever cared about was his reputation, he was scared. after all, he was doing great with mercedes the past season and a scandal with his boss’ daughter would put him through hell. 

now, you were left alone in this apartment overlooking the beauty of monaco. you sat on your balcony with a glass of wine sitting on the table, feeling the breeze of the mediterranean sea. oh you missed mason. you haven’t heard anything from him since you two broke up. 

and maybe it was the number of wine in your system that you ended up dialing his number, the one you’ve deleted yet can’t seem to forget as you knew it by heart. no matter how hard you try to forget about it. it kept on ringing and ringing, and you tried to re-dial once it ended due to the exceeding minute. 

on the fifth try, you finally heard his voice. 

“hello?”

you know that feeling when you’ve spoken to your high school crush for the very first time, your heart drops and your stomach is filled with butterflies to the point where you don’t know what to say? that is exactly what you felt when you heard mason’s voice after months.

“hello?” he repeats, “is this a prank call? ‘cause this is the fifth time you called and i might need to block your number–”

“masey.”

you heard sounds of bed rustling followed by a door closing, you assumed that he was already in bed and was fast asleep. after all, it was already midnight. “y/n?” and that’s when the tears started to roll in, god how you missed that voice. “are you crying? is everything alright?” his voice was quiet.

“y-yeah, just…” you sniffed, “just missing you and i think it has something to do with this stupid wine.”

“sorry, i’ve got to whisper. m-my girlfriend’s asleep,”

“oh.” you wiped your tears, you only found out that mason was dating someone now. “i’m sorry, i should’ve known. god, i’ll hang up–”

“no!”

well, my girl’s in the next room

sometimes i wish she was you

i guess we never really moved on

it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name

it sounds so sweet

“she’s in the other room anyway, we can continue talking.” he continued, “h-how have you been? i’ve seen photos of jack on susie’s instagram, may have had a glimpse of you spending time with them in her stories. have you gone karting with jack recently?”

you chuckle, chugging the remaining wine on your glass before responding. “i-i stayed with them for a month, i stayed with my mum as well, after our… well, you know. i’ve accompanied jack while dad and susie are busy. you know, the season has already started and susie is busy with the f1 academy. i was vacant for a month, but i’ve started working again–i’m talking too much, you should really hang up, mason.”

“you know, it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name, y/n.” mason said, “it-it really sounds so sweet.”

“we should really stop, mason.”

you heard him scoff on the other end of the line, “it’s so funny that you’re the one saying that, i’m not the one who called in the first place, y/n.”

“i know, and i only found out that you were dating someone tonight. y-you should be with her, you shouldn’t be talking to your ex who… who cheated on you tonight. she deserves better.”

“i guess we never really moved on, y/n.” he replied, “i–”

“goodbye, mason. good night.”

coming from the lips of an angel

hearing those words, it makes me weak

and i never wanna say goodbye

but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful

with the lips of an angel

mason couldn’t sleep that night and had trouble waking up, which was the reason why lia, so early in the morning, was mad as her boyfriend was sleeping so deep and no matter how hard she tried to wake him up, she just couldn’t. lia was running late for a schedule that mason had promised to come with her as their break for the season had begun. 

“masey, i’m running super late. my manager is about to burst, can’t you please move much faster?” she said, in a mixture of annoyed and calm voice. “didn’t we go to bed at the same time last night? why do you look like you haven’t at all?”

“because i haven’t slept,” he answered directly.

“why?”

“just… nothing. let’s go.”

the couple exited mason’s house, lia practically sprinted to mason’s car and sat on the front seat. masey, that was the nickname most people call him but now, he only wanted to hear your voice call him that and nobody else. when you say his name, it sounded like it came from the lips of an angel. it made him weak most of the time. 

lia had arrived a half an hour late, her manager was already glaring at mason and immediately separated the couple. while lia was doing her photoshoot, leaving mason alone, he realised that he never wanted to break up with you, even if you admitted what had happened between you and george, or maybe he was just thinking about it as you’ve spoken last night. maybe he just missed you. he did miss you. 

what’s fucked up is that he thought he finally moved on from you, that he was ready to commit to a new relationship. he knew that when he and lia were testing the waters, a month before they officially dated. he has told himself several times that he was over you, yet here he is. reminiscing all the memories you’ve shared the past years you two were together after that phone call. you were making it hard for him to be faithful.

as he was waiting, mason was on his phone when he received a notification of an invite to attend another f1 race with red bull. this time, it was in barcelona. he remembered the last time you and he went to monaco, a weekend to remember indeed. 

“we’re going to be separated for almost the whole day, baby” you laugh, putting on your dress as mason shoves his phone into his pocket. “it’s going to be so weird because you’ll be at the red bull garage, and i’ll be at mercedes!”

“hey, i can still go there, you know? plus we’ll see each other around the paddock.” he replied, walking behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “besides, your dad loooves me. i’m sure he’ll understand that this is for work and publicity.”

you smiled, zipping your dress up and turned to face him. mason pursed his lips, signifying that he was asking for a kiss. you giggled, and eventually leaned in to connect your lips together. when you pulled away, you put your hand on his face and ran the pads of your thumb on his beard–the one you loved doing after you two kissed every time.

“you, sir… look so handsome with your outfit.” you compliment, he was wearing his chequered rhude shirt over some white shirt. you leaned in again for another kiss, deepening it–only pulling away when you heard your phone ring. “okay, before things escalate, i have to go. dad’s calling.”

“your dad’s such a cockblocker.” he teased, earning a slap on the arm from you. “i’m just kidding! i’ll see you when i see you at the paddock.”

mason remembered how he stole a kiss every time you crossed paths at the paddock or at the pit lane during his walk. a lot of people saw and took pictures and videos of it, posting it on social media. that video was trending in the world of f1 and football for a few days before dying down. he remembered seeing tweets and posts on instagram, saying they were jealous of your relationship. he remembered the two of you having dinner at toto and susie’s place, how he was teased by you and jack (toto eventually joined) throughout dinner as he went as red bull’s guest and not mercedes. he remembered lying with you on the deck of a rented yacht, under the sun, enjoying the monte-carlo air.

on the other side of europe, you are woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. you were taking your afternoon siesta before returning back to your home office to continue working, and whoever was calling you in the middle of your nap, may they stub their toe on some furniture. tired, you reached out for your phone and answered the call without looking at the screen.

“hello?” you groggily said, “whoever you are, you’ve interrupted my siesta and i may hate you for that.”

“well, hello to you, my daughter.” your father’s voice rang through your ears. “and i’m sorry if i interrupted your nap, but would you be so kind and open your front door please?”

“what?”

“open the door, i’ve been out here for almost fifteen minutes.”

and off you went to your front door, toto was greeted by a grumpy daughter whose eyebrows were furrowed. you looked at your father, “what are you doing here, dad?”

“no ‘hallo, vater’? no ‘how are you doing, dad?’. none?” he joked, entering your place as you made way for him and closed the door. “okay, i will be quick. come with us to barcelona this weekend.”

your eyes widened, “what? i have work, i can’t just leave.”

“your brother told me that you have a flexible work schedule, that you’re allowed to bring your work everywhere you go.” your dad replied.

“theodore wolff, that little bitch.” you cursed under your breath, you couldn’t help but facepalm with what your brother just did. “dad–”

“i know that tone, y/n wolff.” toto stopped you from continuing your sentence, “come on, it’ll be just like the old days! except your brother isn’t here because his finals week aligned with the weekend in barcelona.”

you bit your lip, making a decision as your father can be impatient. if you go to the race, the possibility of running to george is high–no matter how much effort you exert on avoiding the man, you simply can’t as he is, of course, a driver for mercedes. but, it’ll be good for you as well! you haven’t gone to spain for years, a change of environment and working outside of your home office may be good for you as well. you work only on weekdays, and you’ll be free for the rest of the weekend so you wouldn’t think of work that much in case.

“okay fine, i’ll go with you. when’s the flight?” 

“tonight.”

“TONIGHT?! dad, a little heads up would’ve been nice!”

“i’m sorry, pack your bags and we’ll pick you up by 8.” toto said, planting a kiss on your head. “i’ll go now, we’ll see you later!”

—

on saturday morning, arriving at the paddock with your father, a lot of people approached you by the entrance. some asked for pictures, some for autographs (which you didn’t quite understand), and some were nice enough to greet you. to say that you’re nervous is an understatement. you were returning to the paddock, you’re about to see george, his fiancée–the people you've been avoiding for months were in barcelona with you. you opted to stay in your hotel since your arrival in spain, finishing all the work you have left before proceeding with your weekend. as you walk to the paddock with toto, you could feel your palm sweat and your stomach turn the more you get closer to mercedes’ garage. 

“word is, footballers are in red bull’s garage.” you overheard one of the mechanics upon entering the garage. the word football made you even more nervous than you already were.

“oh come on, mate. i think i’ve seen a few yesterday! that’s old news!”

“i haven’t seen any yesterday but so far, i’ve seen james, felix, chilwell–” please don’t tell me mason is here. “–and mount. just last year they were in monaco, weren’t they?”

the other mechanic nodded his head. mason is here. breathing the same air as you, probably a few metres away from you even. i knew this was a bad idea. you thought to yourself.

“you look like you saw a ghost.” said your father after speaking to the engineers.

you shook your head, “well, i think i’m about to see one today.” you joked, “i-uh, i’ll go out to find something to drink.”

toto raised an eyebrow, a bit unsure of your change of behaviour but you gave him a smile and reassured that you’ll be back. “alright, just…be back before quali, alright?”

you nodded your head and exited the garage. walking around the paddock like you were a normal guest, someone who just wants to enjoy the weekend. but it’s hard when people recognize you as toto wolff’s daughter, and as much as you try to stay away from the crowd, people still approached you. little did you know, someone has spotted you.

“oi, mason!” ben called his teammate, walking towards the man who’re talking with the other players. “guess who i saw walking around the paddock?”

“who?”

ben took a step closer to the younger, whispering your name. mason felt his heart skip a beat, realising the same thing you’ve thought about just a few minutes ago: you were here, breathing the same air as him.

it's funny that you're calling me tonight

and, yes, i've dreamt of you too

and does he know you're talking to me?

will it start a fight?

no, i don't think she has a clue.

needless to say, you were good at hiding. mason had presented the pirelli pole position award to max, he wanted to know if you were there to see him next to the driver. but as he scanned the sea of crowd, you were nowhere to be found. after the qualifying, you returned back to your hotel–reasoning that you were exhausted and had a headache. as soon as you were back, you changed clothes and plopped yourself on the bed. but it wasn’t so soon when your phone started ringing, a number you once called.

“hello?”

“a little birdie told me that you were in the paddock today.”

you sighed, closing your eyes but held the phone close to your earshot. “was it ben?”

“you know it. he’s always liked you–in a platonic way, i mean.”

silence followed right after he had mentioned ben, you were exhausted to even reply. 

“y/n–”

“it’s so funny that you’re calling me tonight, mason.” you said, “i assumed the night i called you, you would’ve blocked my number.”

“you know i would never do that. we’ve been together for a long time, y/n.”

“i must be living in your head, mason.”

mason scoffed on the other end of the line, “well, i wasn’t thinking of you until the night you called.” he replied, “and yes, i’ve dreamt of you too.”

you jolted up from the bed when you heard a knock on the door, with the phone on the other hand you made your way to the door. you didn’t even bother looking through the peephole to see who was knocking on your door late in the night, you just assumed it was your dad. promptly, you opened the door–lo and behold, mason mount was standing in front of you. unable to speak, you still held your phone by your ear and stared at him, him and his stupid smile. mason was the one who ended the call and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“hi,” he said, “it’s been a few months, y/n.”

“how did you–what are you–i’m so confused right now.” you expressed, about to shut the door but mason was quick enough to stop you. “what do you want, mason?”

“does he know you’re talking to me? will it start a fight?” he asked, completely ignoring your question and welcomed himself inside your room, shutting the door close. “george. does george know?”

“i called it off with him the night i left a letter for you, mason. i went to his place and i ended things with you both at the same time.”

mason scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “wow,” he exclaimed, “george had the in-person “break-up” and all i got is a stupid fucking letter?”

“mason–”

“that is bullshit, y/n. pure bullshit.” mason barked, “all this time, george got the closure that i should’ve had. me–y/n, i was the one you dated for a long time and all i fucking got is a lousy letter about the truth of your affair with george?”

“i was supposed to, mason!” you yell back, “i was supposed to tell you, but the timing just wasn’t right.”

“and you thought lying straight to my face when i asked you about it, was okay?” you were about to answer, but mason was already rushing to the door. when he was about to exit, he said: “i went here thinking i could finally get the closure i needed, but fuck, was i wrong about this.”

you scoff, “that’s on you, then. you come running to the girl who cheated on you.” you said, “does lia know that you’re still hung up on your past? because i don’t think she has a clue.”

ynwolff

liked by susie_wolff, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

ynwolff so many familiar faces here in spain 🇪🇸 here’s a little dump of my weekend here 🤓

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yourbffsig oh i know who those familiar faces were 😉

ynwolff 😂 stop

yourbffsig we’re going to a party tonight after what happened, we need to get wasted!!

ynwolff as long as i make it back home on time and alive, let’s gooo

mercedesamgf1 glad to have you back in the garage, y/n! 🐺

ynwolff glad to see the team secure a double podium, thank you for having me! 🖤

mercedesamgf1 a great weekend indeed!

yourmomsig missing you so much, sweetheart! hope you enjoyed x

ynwolff miss you too mum ❤️

theowolff what about me 😓

ynwolff miss you too dumbass 🙄 you’re the reason why i went so you should’ve been with me, i could’ve avoided an unexpected circumstance hahahah

theowolff if only school let me 💀 but hey, at least you ‘enjoyed’

ynwolff i’m blocking you!!

user1 OMG SHES IN THE PADDOCK WHAT IF SHE SAW OR TALKED TI MASE IM DELULU (ALSO TOTO ON THE LAST SLIDE? LMAO)

user2 stop with these assumptions I BEG YALL

user3 people should learn how to stfu im being fr rn

user4 that’s toto’s reaction when he read your comment

user2 also the cryptic messages HELLO ?? i dont think they saw each other or if they did, it probably didn’t go so well

user3 you’re onto something babes 👀

masonmount

liked by declanrice, benchilwell, redbullracing and others

masonmount thank you redbullracing and jodieporter8 for everything!

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liamendes meu belo homem 😩🫶 i love you!

— ❤️ by masonmount

redbullracing THANK YOU!! 🫶

user5 when i tell yall this man is so FINE 🤌🏻

user6 this man is scrump-DILLY-tious

user7 yall CALM DOWN

user8 mason did something happen between u and y/n bc her posts have some sort of cryptic hints and i kinda wanna know whats going on tnx (jk hahaha love u both)

user9 HELPPP me too 😓 like what does her bff mean when she said “whag happened” and y/n saying “unexpected circumstance” LIKE GIVE ME SOMETHING??? A TEA PERHAPS???

user10 currently dying to know what the fucj happened in barcelona

[sovereignjojoz]

Distraction

Pairing: smoke/Tomas x reader, I don’t even know if I can tag this Bi-Han x reader because it’s not, but just know Bi-Han has complex ambiguous feelings towards the reader that even I don’t know?????

Summary: The grandmaster disapproves of smokes lover for some reason unbeknownst to them, so he tells them to end it. Two endings.

Warnings: angst but there’s also a separate comforting ending, one mention that reader wears a dress, self-loathing reader in the angst part.

Notes - this was going to be more angsty originally I just couldn’t picture a meaner scenario, because smoke is too nice so I just lessened the angst to something bittersweet (cry) (I want to write something gut wrenching) anyways might write something for syzoth/Bi-han next idk. Requests are always open!!

Bi-Han, the ever stoic Sub-Zero, found himself in an unexpected dilemma, and it was all Tomas’ fault.

Or more specifically your fault.

Recently, Tomas had gotten a lover. Although some may think otherwise the grandmaster was not adverse to such things so long as they didn’t become a distraction.

You were a distraction.

You couldn't be more different from the warriors of their clan. You were like a breath of warmth in the icy corridors of the Lin Kuei compound, bubbly, kind-hearted, and devoid of combat prowess, you stood out like a flower in a field of snow.

While smoke was smitten with your gentle nature and somewhat naivety, Bi-Han couldn't shake off his disapproval.

Your unfiltered presence felt like a disruption to the disciplined order of their lives, a stark contrast to the solemn silence that usually enveloped the Lin Kuei.

Even now he could hear Tomas trying to hush up the sound of muffled laughter and giggles from the other side of the compound, was a place of komat and violence really a place for laughter to make home?

The grandmaster often tried to keep his distance as a result hoping that the incompatibility of you in their lifestyle would become increasingly clear, yet it had been months and it seemed as though you had no intention to leave Tomas’ side.

He didn’t understand what Tomas saw in you, of course your exterior beauty was clear to all (although Tomas wasn’t one to judge on appearance alone) but you were a non fighter. Bi-Han likened your presence to a fragile glass sculpture delicately balanced on the edge of a precipice, it was as though you needed a box to protect you from the harshness of the compound as it seemed as though a mere wispre could shatter your delicacy - and they were never one for whispering.

Perhaps Tomas could be considered the box you sought out, a sanctuary where you could retreat from the harshness of the world and cocoon yourself in layers of protection, so not to mar your fragile heart.

Yet was Tomas considered capable? Many occasions he’d returned home bloodied and bruised, wracking your heart with grief where you should have been finding solace. Sniffles and sobs lined the walls of the corridors while smoke tried his best to be comforting. He knew how this song and dance played out, a few forlorn touches whilst being patched up then the distress would cease (and in its place came the sound of affection).

Such a cycle will be futile for the one who is considered soft hearted, would it not? With enough pressure even resilience can shatter.

He supposed that was the good thing with his younger brother, he never put pressure on you which is why you were always able to be somewhat resilient and converse freely with him.

He was a firsthand witness to this many times and coincidentally one of those many times he overheard you two freely conversing was currently taking place.

“Tomas please don’t,” you begged loudly, and pouted willing him to look you in the eye.

When it came to many things Tomas was strong willed, but you were his one exception, you’d leave him inexplicably weak “pretty, you know I have to, water is quite literally gushing out of the chamber you stay in.” He countered as he pulled you along behind him.

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand, “But you know that is no issue to me, in fact it will just be like sleeping on a water bed.”

Tomas chuckled heartily, “you’re funny you know baby. Okay then it’s not an issue with you but it is an issue with me, can’t have you getting sick.”

You tried to hold him in place by hugging him, “my immune systems is top notch you know!” But he just threw you over his shoulder with ease and continued walking. “Besides can’t I just sleep with you?”

He felt your smaller fists pound on his back urging him to let you down, it was akin to a marshmallow pounding on wood. “You know I would love that but the grandmaster forbid us from sharing a room because of last time.”

You rested your face on his head sighing, “it was your fault, you were the one who squealed.”

He pinched your hip lightly, although it was enough to make you involuntarily yelp. “Let’s not forget who bit me.”

“Hey you knowingly signed up for that when we started dating.”

He flashed you a smile as he threw you down on the couch and brought out an imaginary key to lock you up with.

You gasped betrayed, “I know I know, ‘m sorry! I didn’t want to have to resort to this but your presence is too captivating, just give me three minutes my angel then I’m all yours.”

You relented beckoning him to go on so you could brood whilst you waited for him, the grand master watched this whole debacle go down and decided to make his presence known.

His presence startled you leading you to jump up upon his entrance, “good evening grandmaster.” You palmed at your dress in a state of nervousness.

The tall male eyed you up and down, “where is Tomas.”

“Smokey-” a disapproving frown crept onto his face, you cleared your throat, uncomfortable, “Tomas just left.”

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Yes that is evident, to where.”

You bit your bottom lip “he, um, went to the bedroom to fix a broken tap.”

His eyes flickered to you, a harsh glare almost making you want to flinch, “everything in the lin kuei compound is made to perfection, how did it break.”

You took a couple steps back as his proximity slightly intimidated you, “we shared a bath together a-and I must have splashed around to much, I’m really sorry grandmaster please don’t blame smok-”

“Enough.” His glare was enough to silence your nervous rambling. “Sit. I’m going to speak to Tomas, do not disturb us.”

It seemed as though you wanted to say something but you held yourself back deciding to sit down like he instructed you (good choice).

When Tomas heard footsteps approaching he initially thought nothing of it, thinking you had tired of being by your lonesome and wanted his attention again.

Then he heard the heaviness to the footsteps, those weren’t your delicate footsteps.

He used his vestment to wipe the sweat off his brow before answering the door.

“Grandmaster.” Tomas greeted.

Bi-Jan forced his own entry into the room, locking the door behind them, tension hanging thick in the air.

Smoke tried to read his expression his but it was unreadable, although it seemed like a form of inevitable confrontation was about to occur based on the face he was currently making.

“Is there anything-?”

“You are becoming reckless Tomas.”

Smoke furrowed his brows in confusion, he had no idea what the grandmaster was referring to. “What?”

“You broke a tap.”

Tomas rubbed his nape sheepishly, “technically you could say that, but I’ve already fixed it.”

Bi-han stepped closer to smoke, “It is beyond unacceptable.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Do we tolerate mistakes?”

Smoke had a lingering suspicion this issue ran deeper than the tap, of course Bi-Han would be displeased about his broken tap however he seemed to snappy for the issue to just be about the tap.

“We don’t but [name] didn’t mean to-?”

“Answer.”

“No?”

“Yet irregardless of that you did not show up to morning training.” A look of recognition flashed across smokes face, “as your grandmaster that will not be tolerated. You must end your relationship with [name].”

A look of disbelief overcame Tomas’ face. “What? Where is this coming from, why would I do that?” He asked, hurt seeped in his voice.

Bi-Han pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, “[name] is a distraction and a liability, if [name] were here now your focus would slip and you would struggle to focus on anything else evidently shown by the way you missed morning training.”

“That was my own decision.” Tomas answered defending you from Bi-Hans criticism, “[name] only asked if I would join, I was the one who said yes full well knowing about the training. If anyone is to blame it’s me.”

“It doesn’t matter Tomas. The fact you even said yes proves how far gone you are. [name] is not a warrior nor a medic but a weakness, an attachment to you that makes you vulnerable and puts us all at risk.”

Tomas’ jaw clenched in frustration, “Grandmaster please excuse me but you have no right to judge. You do not understand what you are talking about, [name] is not my weakness.”

“You are being selfish in your pursuits Tomas. Perhaps if she were a warrior there would be room negotiate but someone so tenuous is pitiful.”

“Then forgive me for being selfish grandmaster but I will not relent.” Tomas turned sharply on his heel to exit the room.

Angsty ending

“You will. If you dare to disobey me then take your stuff with you because you will no longer reside here.”

Tomas stopped in his tracks, his hand shakily hovering over the door knob.

He knew he had no more room to argue but he wanted to, more so than ever since it was a battle between his head and his heart.

Tomas threw his head back, exhaling angrily through his nostrils, then he pulled opened the door brashly and stormed out.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“Smokey?” He saw your head appear into his view from around the corner, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” You wrapped your arms tightly around his middle hoping to comfort him, “you seem tense?”

Smoke said nothing and just pulled you close with a desperate longing that was almost too tight. There's a sense of safety in the closeness as your breaths synchronise with his. You frowned pitifully and pulled his head down to your shoulder, gently caressing his hair.

“It’s okay.” You kissed his cheek.

“It’s not.”

“You can tell me what’s the matter?”

He lifted his head up trying to maintain his composed mask, “Bi-Han wants us to break up.”

Your shock lead your grip to loosen on him however he reacted quickly putting it back where it once was.

“Oh.”

He ran a hand through his ashen hair, “don’t worry, we’re not breaking up I’ll just deal with the consequences.” He spoke attempting to give you a reassuring smile but it came out more wry.

It was quite hard to process your current emotions but you were trying your best, “what are the consequences?”

“I’m out.”

Shock painted your face, “you can’t do that this is your whole life, you love it here.”

He brought your hand to his face, “I also love you.”

“I know.” You sniffled and tried your best to wipe the unruly tears that slipped out of the corner of your eyes.

You sighed. “He hates me, right? I must have done something again and now he’s had enough of me, it’s all my fault, I-I’m so stupid-!” You hit your head twice before smoke caught your hands and held them together tightly.

“stop it.”

Despite your hands being bound, you got past him and manage to wrap your hands around his blade, “what if I just cut my hair or if I talk less, I’ll change whatever he wants, I’ll study everything and become more proper…I’ll do anything to make him like me more for you-” smoke tuned out the rest of what was being discussed as he felt you trying to pull the blade towards your hair, he knew irrationality was getting to you. You tried your best to overpower him yet you knew it wouldn’t be possible, he was a warrior you were nothing.

The blade flicked out of your hand and made a small gash on your cheek, but the wound stung more from your saline tears than the actual sharpness of the blade.

His thumb wiped the blood and tears off of your soft skin, “it’s okay, you’ll be alright and I don’t care what he think I like you how you are, I never want you to change.”

“Well that would be good if the grandmaster didn’t hate current me that you love. Why does he hate me, he probably has a good reason anyway…All I want is to be with you…nothing else. but I’m not going to hold you back regardless.”

Smoke purses his lips. He had no answer for you, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what the grandmasters peculiarity with you was or where this sudden snap came from, he didn’t want to doubt his grandmaster but he felt like there was more to this so called ‘dislike’ if he could even call it that.

His head was a mess.

“There is no good reason.” He didn’t answer your question, instead he just pulled you close into his embrace.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Tomas.”

“Yeah but still, it’s not fair. You shouldn’t doubt yourself like this thinking it’s your fault and our relationship shouldn’t be ending. Period. I should be able to do something but…If only things could have been different.” Or the grandmaster could have understood instead of being an arrogant ‘know-it-all’, “then…” the words died out on his tongue.

Your lips sadly turned upwards as you stroked his cheek, “but they’re not so there’s no time for lamenting, so I guess this is goodbye Smokey.”

As you took your hand away from his cheek he immediately felt the loss of warmth, replaced with a coolness he didn’t think he’d ever be forced to get used to.

But at least his heart was ignited one last time seeing you smile, even if it was in sadness and not long lasting, it would be a while before he let that smoke fizzle out.

“Goodbye sweetheart.”

Comforting ending

Before you were even aware of what was happening to you, a tug of your hand was pulling you forward leaving you stumbling to catch up with your feet.

“Tomas? Where are we going?”

He continued walking at a brisk pace, not stopping till you were outside the compound, “just for a walk, need to let some steam off.”

“You need to cool off some smoke?” You joked laughing at your pun.

That managed to crack a small smile from him, “and Bi-Han wants this to end,” he muttered under his breath.

You tilted your head at him in a curious manner, “what?”

He stopped beneath a tree, decorated with soft glistening snow on top of the wooden branches. He tuned towards you and squished your cheeks together before giving you a soft kiss. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay!”

You couldn’t figure out what it was but he was heavily concentrated on something in the distance right now, his face was clouded by a far a way look till he abruptly turned to face you. “Hey, do you want to get married?”

You gasped surprised, “really? You’d marry me!”

Smoke grinned enthusiastically, “would I? Of course I would!”

You jumped on him to excited to contain yourself making him stumble backwards before he steadied himself and you, “okay! It would probably only take me like two days to find a dress and we could just go down and sign the documents unless you wanted to have a big official thing but I’m not sure how that would-”

He pinched your lips while laughing to silence your rambling, “how about now?”

“But we have nothing I-!”

He cut you off once more, “we don’t need anything, just us, it will make it special! sure it will be informal but only us two will get it!”

“Here look,” he grabbed your smaller hands in his larger coarse hands, “[name], may I be forever yours.”

“Yes, you may Tomas.”

He grinned and pulled his face towards you, giving you a tender and lasting smooch. “Now we’re married!”

“You hit him lightly on his shoulder, “you were meant to wait for me to repeat it!”

He pulled you down to the floor, making you sit on his lap, “M sorry, ‘m sorry! I couldn’t wait.”

You sighed content, laying your head on top of his muscular shoulder, “it’s okay, you have forever to make it up to me.”

His lips curled upwards as he rested his head on top of yours.

Yeah, forever sounds nice.

[quicksilver-castiel]

Freak

Pairing: Michael/Adam Milligan/Ghoul Impersonating Adam Milligan

Length: 1.6k

Rating: mature

Tags: Repression? In these characters? It's more likely than you think; mention of cannibalism; biting during sex; everything these guys do is consensual and safe but idk about sane

“Adam, tell your other boyfriend that he’s an asshole,” Ghoul says when it’s clear that tonight is not a night he and Michael are getting along.

Michael immediately shuts up. “Adam, tell that thing that it needs to shut up,” he gripes.

Ghoul’s face shutters closed, which Adam has learned by now means that he’s trying to hide how hurt he is. For a second, Adam can feel something like guilt permeating from Michael’s grace, but then it cuts off.

“Tell- tell that winged guy that he can shut the fuck up himself,” Ghoul says weakly, and storms off in the direction of the bedroom.

It’s always like this - Ghoul’s insults are weak, if you can even call them that. Maybe it’s because he grew up in graveyards. Dead people don’t tend to teach you witty comebacks or how to read the living for filth.

Michael though. Oh, Michael. He’s always down to tear someone to shreds, whether metaphorically or literally. Adam is glad that the threats of actual violence have gotten far and few between by now, but whenever he gets angry, he still slings out insults that cut like an archangel blade. No one is safe from them, except maybe Adam, but then Adam also got past his initial hang-ups about being called a mud-monkey or a worm somewhere around year 300 in the Cage. He isn’t  sure how he would react if Michael suddenly whipped those insults back out, seeing as how he hasn’t heard them in quite a while, but he wants to believe that he at least wouldn’t leave in a huff like a teenager.

Of course, leaving Michael’s vicinity is also pretty difficult when the guy lives in his ribcage.

“You got anything more for me to tell him?” Adam asks.

Michael’s projection isn’t looking at him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “No,” he says petulantly.

Adam sighs. This really isn’t how he wanted to spend his Friday night, but then again it’s pretty par for the course for this new life the three of them have carved out for themselves. It’s nowhere near normal, and if you asked anyone else, they would probably say that it’s pretty fucked up. (Okay, Sam did say that, in slightly different words, but he can go choke on kale for all Adam cares.)

But they’re a family, in all the ways that three people with two bodies and one face between them can be a family. Which is to say in all the ways that matter, at least to Adam. Michael may beg to differ (and Adam loves hearing him beg), but at the end of the day, they both know that Michael is more fond of Ghoul than he admits.

Which is exactly the problem.

“You know, after yesterday, I thought you may have gotten over the whole ‘monster’ thing,” Adam says, aiming for light-hearted and landing somewhere just south of accusatory.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Michael says, because he is a habitual liar, and also a little bitch.

“You know, after you let Ghoul fuck you.” Usually it’s the other way around, with Michael dominating Ghoul like he has something to prove. Maybe he does, but if so then only to himself, considering they all know how much he likes to be ordered around.

Michael’s projection tenses, fingers digging into his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits out.

Sure, Jan, Adam thinks, careful not to let Michael hear it.

When you’re literally in each other’s head, privacy can be a bit tricky, but they’ve got the whole one-body thing down pat by now. Adam sometimes says it’s easier to block out each other’s thoughts than it is to remember to breathe, and it’s not just a joke. While Adam often still does it, much like eating, it’s not like they need to breathe - and they tend to just forget.

Turns out that can freak some people out, including their arguably undead-adjacent boyfriend.

(Ghouls aren’t technically undead, as Adam has learned. They’re sometimes mistakenly grouped with zombies due to the whole eating people thing - jury’s still out on whether it counts as cannibalism when ghouls aren’t humans - but they’re made from warm flesh and hot blood, and unlike with those Twilight guys, there’s no question on whether they can get it up or not. Adam doesn’t know if they can impregnate humans, but Ghoul at least made a valiant effort at impregnating an archangel last night.)

It’s been a few seconds, or maybe minutes - Adam is still too used to time being meaningless, for months to be the equivalent of a day - when Michael suddenly says: “Do you think I was too harsh?”

Maybe a bit, Adam thinks sarcastically, and says: “I think Ghoul was pretty hurt.”

Michael frowns at that, pondering this turn of events. Adam wonders what he thought would happen if he went back to calling Ghoul a thing.

Maybe he hasn’t thought about it at all.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” Michael mutters, and Adam feels his own face soften as he looks at the tense and hunched shoulders of Michael’s projection. “It just came out.”

That’s definitely a problem they need to work on, but at least seems to feel bad about it. It’s a start - a good start, even, considering that it took much longer before Michael felt any remorse for landing Adam in Hell.

“Do you want me to tell him that?” Adam asks gently.

He can feel Michael bristle within his chest. “It’s not my fault. He goaded me!”

“I never said that it was your fault, bud.”

That mollifies Michael, at least for the moment. “Tell him that I didn’t mean to call him an it.”

“Okay. You coming with me?”

Michael looks at him in that way that means ‘silly little human’.

Adam rolls his eyes. “You know I mean your projection.”

“I’ve not been visible to anyone but you for about ten minutes now.”

“Great, so I’ve been talking to myself all that time. Cool beans.” Adam gets up from the couch with a sigh. “Alright, time to test my bedside manner.”

“Hey bud, how are you doing?”

Ghoul peers up from the pillow his face is wedged into just to glare at Adam. “Tell that feathered ass I don’t want to see him.”

Adam sits down on the bed and puts a hand on Ghoul’s back. “He’s actually sorry, you know.”

“You’re making that up,” Ghoul gripes after a moment of stunned silence.

“He didn’t mean to call you an it, G.”

Ghoul huffs into the pillow. “I don’t actually mind the ‘it’,” he mumbles against the wrapped down feathers. (Archangelic feathers, to be precise. They’re softer than those of any animal, and Michael likes being plucked sometimes. The feathers can regrow within seconds - not that Michael always wants them to.)

“Okay,” Adam says to keep Ghoul talking, tucking away the revelation about pronouns for later.

“I just know he said it to hurt me, you know.”

“He didn’t mean to,” Adam repeats, but it sounds a little hollow.

“If he really meant it, he wouldn’t send you to say it,” Ghoul mutters against the pillow.

Adam thinks about how long it took for Michael to apologise to him for the first time. How long it still sometimes takes for him to admit a mistake.

“Look, he’s not very good at the whole apology thing.” Adam rubs his hand up and down Ghoul’s back, trying to ease the tension out of it. “I guess that makes two of you.”

“Three of us.”

“Hey, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

“Case in point.”

Adam huffs out a laugh. “Okay, maybe we’re all bad at this. But you know what we’ve been pretty good at, historically?”

“What?” Ghoul finally turns his head, no longer talking into the pillow.

“The forgiving thing.”

“Literally neither of you has forgiven his brothers,” Ghoul says, unimpressed.

Adam gapes at him. “Since when are you on their side?!”

“I’m not, but you’re not exactly perfect little angels about thi-” Realising what he was saying, Ghoul cuts himself off.

Adam almost falls off the couch, laughing.

“You’re right, none of us are perfect little angels,” he teases.

Only because I’m not little, Michael says in their head.

Exactly, bud.

Ghoul narrows his eyes. “Did Michael just say that he would be, if I didn’t say ‘little’?”

Adam grins at him.

“He’s not even that big,” Ghoul continued.

“Hey,” Adam says, “if you’re referring to his dick, maybe rethink that statement.”

“That cop I ate was bigger.” Ghoul licks his lips like he’s remembering the taste. “Sam too. I only got a small taste of him, but it was enough to know his body. He’s hung.”

“I really don’t want to hear about Sam’s dick.”

Ghoul shrugs, and scoots over to lean against Adam’s side. “Point is, none of you are good at forgiving. But it’s okay - I can be the bigger person.”

“I’d prefer if you stayed how you are, actually,” Adam says, making Ghoul grin.

“I meant that metaphorically. But I love that you’re such a freak.” Ghoul noses at Adam’s neck.

Adam thinks that out of the three of them, he’s still the most normal one. Then again, he decided to date both an archangel and a ghoul, so maybe ‘freak’ is a fair assessment.

Well, you’re my favourite freak, Michael says, and his grace shivers in anticipation when Ghoul scrapes his teeth along their neck.

Thanks, bud, Adam says to him. You’re also one of my two favourite freaks.

Michael huffs, but it’s fond, and then he keens a little when Ghoul bites down playfully on their shoulder.

They’ll be fine, Adam thinks then. No matter how much those two argue, they’ll still be fine.

That thought, and the feeling of Ghoul biting down harder, making blood trickle over his skin, make Adam sigh in relief.

[dandelionflowery]

Intro post!

(breast cancer awareness post here/the legends of tumblr here, variations here and here , alt link for number 7/arch nemesis Cynthia here) [the two topics are wholly unrelated]

HII!!

My name on the internet is Dandelion, but you can call me whatever you like honestly. It's so hard to find a good name around here, the fae keep stealing them

I use any pronouns, online people default to they/them, IRL people default to she/her, you can use whatever you feel like!

I'm aroace 🧡💛🤍🩵💙 and my gender is up to interpretation lol

I'm 17 and I live in France but I have both French and American citizenship (so i do speak both french and english)

I'M A YEAR AWAY FROM BEING AN ADULT HELP

I have both scoliosis (diagnosed, 45°) and probably dyslexia (not officially diagnosed but all the internet tests I did were screaming at me to go get an official diagnosis- as has life lol) and those two really hate each other who deCIDED SCOLISOIS SHOULD BE SPELLED THE WAY IT IS (if i spell it correctly be aware that either I copied it from somewhere, or i thought about it for WAY too long, or it was a monkeys on keyboards thing)

I also probably have some form of undiagnosed neurodivergence, i think autism and some hints of adhd :)

I created a blog just for reblogging shit (aptly named @dandelionflowery-reblogs) but i suck at tagging stuff on most of my accounts 😭

I'm not often super active on here, at least not regularly, mostly because I have way too many classes but sometimes I go absolutely insane and spend like an entire day on here (oops)

actually i'm most active on here I think now lol

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I like:

- Harry Potter (Drarry, Deamus, Romione, Linny are my main ships but there's a decent chance you could get me to like a specific portrayal of just about any pairing lol) [also fuck jkr]

- The Marauders (WOLFSTARRR! Also Jily and aroace Peter and maybe Remadora. Same thing as before: open to other pairings [I know of and appreciate the ships with the girls but usually I'll lean towards the first ones mentioned actually I'll lean towards wolfstar with background Jily and aa battery Peter)

- Reading and books in general

- Fanfics, fanart!! (Both writing/drawing them and reading/simping for them)

Speaking of which, I have a side blog that's actually technically marauders themed! @mybrain-fanficedition

- Interactions on here!!

- there's probably some other stuff I like but I can't think of anything rn

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I don't like:

- Following from above, I said I was open to pretty much any pairing, ... I lied lol

Idk what jegulus did to me but i just don't like it for some reason (jegulily? lovely. jily? fantastic. jegulus? less.)

- Also the usual list of if you're pro-genocide, homophobic transphobic uh racist, pedophile or just a generally mean person

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I like talking to people even if you don't know what to say just say hi!

Also I have other social media, come find me if you want!

@/flowerydandelion, @/dandelionfloweryart and @/wands.swords.and.books on Instagram!

On Ao3 I'm like 90% sure it's DandelionFlowery and uh probably similar usernames on Discord and Reddit [though I'm not often active on there]

Wait if I link my ao3 that means i need to actually post my fics lol

Leave comments if you read my fics, I love feedback!! (or just leave kudos, it makes me irrationally happy lol)

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tags about my current wips featuring really bad summaries:

#third time's the charm- Lily

(not going to be the actual title i think but first i have to write it, we'll worry about titles later)

Lily decides canon sucks and she's going to do something about it

woah i wasn't lying when i said really bad summaries

> Canon happens once, and Lily watches over her son from the afterlife. When canon gets to the scene in DH where Harry gets to see his parents again, something happens and Lily finds herself back in the past, reliving her life from Harry's birth on. She plans, dies and learns. The third time, she's ready.

#our broken hearts- an ode to wolfstar (this one is subject to change bc that title is way too sappy for me)

Sirius dated Peter. And Marlene. And Lily. And James. And then Remus?

>Originally this started in the tags of some post and i mentioned Sirius x Peter, and it blew out of proportion.

>Sirius spends many years finding out who he likes, and ends up with Remus after a lot of experimenting.

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totally normal link trust me :)

if you still trust me (and why shouldn't you?), here's the ULTIMATE PRIDE FLAG lol)

let's see how trustworthy you think i am

wanna see some stuff i wrote? (warning, a friend said it took them half an hour to read just the main bit lmao)

an apology 1 | 2

useful tumblr post about hobbies

SNAIL CROSSING SNAIL CROSSING SNAIL CROSSING

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side blogs: @x-lovegood @xenophilius-quibbler (Xenophilius Lovegood rp) @sybilances (Sybill Trelawney rp) @bleidd-ddyn (Remus Lupin rp)

@antheia-anthousai (nymph oc)

@mybrain-fanficedition (as mentioned above)

@am-i-a-crab (crab army!!)

+ another two gimmick blog but i'm not saying which ones >:) [maybe i should, they're both still active lmao]

small + pink means dead accounts lol

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest - Day 9

Pairing: Han x gn!reader Prompt: Oral Fixation WC: 1.8k Summary: Nervous habits are hard to break. In an effort to retrain yourself from a nasty nail biting habit you’ve started busying your mouth with other things. This has not gone unnoticed by your flatmate Han. Not even a little.  TW/CW: switches(both), weight mention (reader non-seriously worrying about weight), deepthroating, swallowing, oral (m! receiving), pet name(babe)

idk really what to tag here please if you need something specifically tagged literally ever just drop an ask anon or not and let me know, no questions from me needed. i’m tagging based on my own experience but several of my friends have fairly specific tw so i totally get it.

It started with lollipops. You were trying to keep yourself from biting your nails so to keep your mouth busy you bought an economy size bag of dum-dums. Han could barely handle those. Tongue twirling and flicking the hard candy frenetically. Cheek bulging as you tucked one casually in front of your teeth. Granted, he couldn’t look at you when you were deeply focused, working the lollipop between your tongue and the roof of your mouth sucking down the melted flavored sugar without a thought. At least the lollipops were small.

In the summer it was popsicles. There were two varieties you’d suck on, the natural and the novelty. Natural fruit popsicles were larger and wider, stretching your lips and cheeks to the extreme. They’d melt quickly and were hard to fit the whole in your mouth so you’d often work the sides as well as what you could fit of the tip, chasing the juice as it would trickle down and over your fingers, leaving a sticky trail to clean up after. Han knew your technique, keeping the sides perfectly balanced until the end so the icy treat wouldn’t slip off the stick. The novelty was classic rocket pop. Not a natural flavoring in any of the three bands of color. Perfectly tapered tip with a nice cylindrical shape. Easy to fit between your lips, no tugging or stretching. Even easier to catch the drips by simply sliding a little further down the shaft of the popsicle, no need to ever let it fall from your lips. By august you’d gotten your rhythm down, circle the end twice with your tongue, suck a little farther down, and back off to the tip, repeat.

Han memorized that rhythm. He could freestyle over it if he had to. Your oral fixation was his guilty pleasure. How many times had he pressed his dick back down in his pants, longing to replace your snacks with himself? Sometimes he could swear you were doing it just for him. Looking at him out of the corner of your eye as you took just a little too much of the popsicle in your mouth with a moan.

“I think I’m getting fat,” you groaned, pulling the popsicle from your mouth with a pop. “So? Then get fat.” Han didn’t dare look up from the manga he was intently staring at. You groan again dramatically. “What do you want me to say? I don’t care if you gain weight. Doesn’t mean shit to me.” You lean over the arm of the sofa and bat your eyelashes. “Tell me I'll still be hot even if I’m fat.” Han peeks over his manga, you're just barely sucking the tip of your popsicle, upper lip teasing the top of it coquettishly. “Doesn’t matter what your weight is, you’re stupid either way,” he grumbles and shoves his nose back into the book. “Ugh. Rude.” You scoff, continuing to observe him, slowly and pointedly licking your popsicle.

Han itches the back of his neck, trying to refocus. Every little errant twitch and prick he imagines on his skin has him twisting awkwardly into a new position to try to get comfortable. But he couldn’t. Not with you there looking at him, sucking like that. Tapping his big toe anxiously he locks eyes with you again. “Is there something else you need or…?” There’s an edge to his voice, lips sealed tightly. The tapping migrates to his whole foot, bouncing at the ankle. “I dunno,” you sigh. “I’m just bored. And you won’t tell me I’m hot so now I’m a little sad.” “You’re hot okay?” Han tries to avert his eyes, looking at you feels like staring into the sun. Red melty sugar drips down over your fingers, catching and pooling on your chest. He blinks, unable to comprehend what he’s seeing. You’ve broken your usual tempo but you seem unbothered. Han feels insane for noticing, he wants to ask why but it would be weird.

“Hmph,” you pout, slurping loudly around the icy treat. “You can’t even look at me.” Han lifts his manga up, head still stuck between the pages, “uh, yeah. I’m busy.” His whole leg bounces of its own accord. Sluuuurrrrp. His head jerks to the side, pants suddenly uncomfortably tight. Pressing the fabric at his leg he tries to shift himself tactfully. You grin. Sluuuuurrrp. He huffs, eyes boring into the pages. A man on a mission. Unflappable. Stalwart. Sluuuuuurrrp. “Mmmmmhm, oh my god, it’s so drippy!” Your cherry red tongue wraps around the shaft deliciously savoring each running droplet. “Can you do that elsewhere?” Han finally cracks, closing the manga and pinching his forehead, still hiding his eyes from you. Only the ring of blue left you feverishly work the popsicle in and out of your lips, removing the remainder with a pop. “I’m sorry I’ve just been really anxious I guess. I just need to keep my mouth busy,” you whine. “I’m out of popsicles though…” trailing off you stare at him pointedly. “Could you help me with that?”

The book drops to the floor. Hans hand gripping his knee tight. He pauses, blinking. “I’m…sorry? What? I-how?” You cannot possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Now he really feels like he’s hearing things. It must be the lack of blood flowing to his brain; there is just no way you were asking him that. “I need something to keep my mouth busy. Preferably low calorie. Ideally with some protein.” Han tries to keep his breathing steady and slow. He tries his best not to let his mind follow the path you are so clearly trying to lead him down. “Can you just spit it out please?” “For you babe, I’d swallow.” You giggle.

If this were a manga or anime Han’s nose would be shooting blood, head flung back from the force. Instead he leans back, legs spread wide on the couch, inhaling deeply. “You cannot be serious.” “I can be if you want me to.” He finally looks at you to size you up. One eyebrow cocked, you smile slightly, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. “Hannie, I’ve seen the way you watch me. I might act dumb but I'm not stupid. I see how you scurry away to jack off in your room. The walls aren’t that thick. Now, can you help my little…situation…or not?” You rest your hand on his knee, leaning over him suggestively. His mouth hangs open, the lump in his pants twitches. “You want to suck me off?” All your bravado drains from your body. Hearing it from his mouth so bluntly. “Err…yeah I thought that was obvious. Yeah, if you want me to.”

Han’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss, sticky and tart. Still a little cool, the friction quickly warms your lips, your tongue still tasting faintly of blue raspberry and lime. The blue dye still fresh leaves a faint tinge of purple behind on his lips which he licks from the lower. Eyes locked, neck still cradled in his palm, you slowly lower to your knees tucked between his thighs. “Put your head right here babe,” he pats the crux of his inner thigh. Laying your head down he rakes his hand through your hair, other hand busy undoing his pants. He never lets your face leave his sight, tugging his swollen dick out over the top of his waistband and giving it a few pumps. The thickness makes your mouth water and stomach flip, tapered nicely to an angry red tip. Smiling, you hang your tongue out loose and wide as he rubs the underside across your cheek and chin. “Fuck, you think it’ll fit?” He drags himself over your lips, spit bubbling and coating him. “I’ve been practicing.” Han beams, “the popsicles?” “Mhm,” you mumble, lips pursed and working up and down the section of him they can reach. His cock throbs, a bead of precum forming at the tip. “You’re so hot.” “Perks of my particular habit.”

Tipping your head upwards he gently feeds you his length, tip prodding the inside of your cheek, stretching it and leaving its outline. The two of you sit there peacefully as you swallow around him, sucking in short intervals. Lips stretched around him, your vision goes hazy, blissfully humming around him. “Fuck I could watch you do this for hours,” Han muses. You mumble something incoherent. “Babe don’t talk with your mouth full,” he smirks, stroking your cheek lovingly.  His other hand slips under your head and begins to tilt you over his pelvis. Guiding you slowly up and down, your cheeks hollow and bulge with each motion. Slowly he gives you more and more of his cock, head just barely breaching the tight ring of your throat. His breathing grows more ragged, stomach tensing as he groans. You gurgle as he presses deeper, little by little he’s less gentle, hips joining his arms in thrusting you down on him. Pulling you off, vacuum of your mouth popping loudly, he grips your chin, thumb wiping the mix of spit and precum from your lower lip. “Can you take all of me? All the way?” Han looks almost as fucked out as you, jaw loose and chest heaving. You smile proudly and nod, eyelashes sticking together slightly. You place your hands on his thighs for support and you take him between your lips.

“Oh shit-” he stutters as you slide him all the way down, nose bumping into his pelvic bone. Your throat squeezes and revolts at the intrusion, massaging him with every attempt to remove the invader. Focused on breathing through your nose you barely notice his hands pressing you down hard, bouncing your head into his stomach. His thighs tense in your grasp, “oh shit- oh shit- oh fuck- I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna fucking cum- your throat- I’m gonna cum-”

Quickly your hand pinches his thigh and he releases you, coughing, lungs pumping air frantically. Tilting your head back, tongue out he rests the tip on the muscle, fisting his length.  Eyes rolling back in his head, ass flexed, he moans transitioning into a high pitched whine as he coats you with his release. Mouth hung open, presenting his load, you make a show of rolling your tongue back in and swallowing it down. Wiping the mess from your lips with your middle finger you lick off the remainder, sucking just the tip like you did his cock. “Thanks Hannie! I think that really helped.”

I’ve also written sub!Han blowjob as a part of my own series ‘To All The Dicks I’ve Sucked Before” so if you are looking for more like this but with a subbier Han here you go