#if there is something I am not comfortable writing i will say it

[decoy-sammy]

New fic rec for me it seems. I'm scared already🥲

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[sirenedeslily]

── 𝓟icture 𝓨ou ( jackie taylor ) ּ 𓂅 ⋆

・❥・ ─── 𝓢𝗬𝗡. a quiet love story between a shy photographer and the untouchable girl she’s captured in secret.

( pairing ) — jackie taylor x female!reader 𝜗𝒞 ; fluff / college au ℳ. based off this request !! hope it didn’t disappoint 𓂃 ( 1k )

jackie taylor is the kind of girl people write songs about.

you knew it from the first moment you saw her, golden and untouchable, stepping onto campus like she owned the sidewalks. like the world belonged to her, or maybe just wanted to. she was the kind of girl you kept your distance from, because you weren't the type to belong in her orbit—just an observer, a passerby, someone with a vintage camera slung around their neck and untied laces on their worn-out converse.

your roommates, lottie and nat, always tease you about it. "there she goes again," lottie would say, watching you grab your camera before heading out. "off to capture another moment of the unattainable jackie taylor." but they don't understand. it's not about attainability. it's about preserving something beautiful, something real.

then came that night in late september, when the air was still warm but carried hints of autumn's approach. you were driving home from a photography club meeting when you saw her standing on the curb outside some frat house party, arms crossed, jaw tight, alone. the streetlight caught in her hair like a halo, and without thinking, you pulled over.

"need a ride?"

she looked at you for a long moment, mascara slightly smudged, vulnerability written in the set of her shoulders. you learned later that jeff had left her there after an argument—something about him being controlling, about her being "too much."

"yeah," she finally said, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "that'd be great."

the drive was quiet at first, just the low hum of your car's heater and the occasional direction from jackie. but then she started talking—really talking—about her dreams beyond being the perfect preppy girl everyone expected, about how sometimes she felt like she was playing a role in her own life.

"i don't think i've ever told anyone that," she admitted as you pulled up to her dorm.

"your secret's safe with me," you promised, and something shifted between you that night.

after that, jackie started appearing in your world more frequently. she'd find you in the library, sliding into the seat across from you with a coffee and a smile. you'd run into her between classes, and somehow those brief encounters would turn into hour-long conversations. she'd text you random thoughts at 3 am, and you'd respond with photos you'd taken that day.

the camera became your bridge. "show me how you see things," she'd say, and you'd let her peer through your viewfinder at the way morning light filtered through leaves, or how raindrops collected on spider webs. you never told her that most of your photos were of her—captured in quiet moments when she thought no one was looking.

until today.

she's curled up in your bed, legs draped over yours, head resting on your shoulder. the afternoon sun streams through your dorm window, casting everything in honey-gold light. she's scrolling through your phone, casual and comfortable in a way that still makes your heart skip.

"wait—where do all your saved photos go?"

your stomach tightens. it's a casual question, but it carries the weight of all your unspoken admiration, all the moments you've collected like precious stones.

before you can answer, she's already in your gallery, thumb swiping through image after image. you watch her face as realization dawns.

"these are all of me."

not a question. a soft, stunned observation.

you watch as she takes in each photo: jackie laughing during a soccer game, hair flying wild and free. jackie asleep in the library during finals week, textbook pressed against her cheek. jackie in the passenger seat of your car at sunset, profile gilded by dying light. jackie in the rain, in the sun, in shadow and light—always beautiful, always real.

"you took all of these?"

you nod, suddenly feeling exposed. "i like capturing moments. real ones."

her eyes find yours. "why me?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with meaning. you take a breath, choosing your words carefully.

"because you're most beautiful when you're just being yourself. not the jackie everyone expects—just... you."

she's quiet for a moment, then reaches for your nightstand where your photo album sits. before you can stop her, she's opening it, discovering more pieces of herself through your lens.

the album is filled not just with photos, but with pieces of your shared history. a pressed flower from the day she picked a daisy and tucked it behind your ear. a coffee stain on a napkin from your first real conversation. concert tickets, dried leaves, small moments preserved like insects in amber.

"this is..." she trails off, fingers tracing a photo of herself reading poetry on the quad, completely unaware of the camera. "this is how you see me?"

you nod, heart thundering. "that's how you are."

jackie closes the album gently, setting it aside. when she looks at you again, her eyes are soft, touched by something deeper than surprise.

"no one's ever seen me like this before," she whispers, shifting closer until her forehead rests against yours. "like i'm worth remembering."

"you're worth every photo," you murmur back. "every moment."

she kisses you then, soft and slow, like she's trying to capture this moment too. when she pulls back, there's a smile playing at her lips.

"you know," she says, "for someone who spends so much time behind the camera, you're pretty terrible at hiding how you feel."

you laugh, warmth spreading through your chest. "maybe i wasn't trying to hide it."

jackie's smile widens. "good," she says, pulling you closer. "because i think i like being seen by you."

the late afternoon light paints everything gold, and you think about reaching for your camera. but some moments, you realize, are better lived than captured. so instead, you kiss her again, memorizing this feeling with something deeper than film and paper.

after all, the best pictures are the ones we keep in our hearts.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @waitforyrlove @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @maggot3647 @ifwdominicfike @honeymoonchem @ch6rm @freshloveee @theapollochronicles @mattsdolll @jetaimevous @secretlocket

[joannasprose]

DUST BOWL

“. . .Pretty boy. Natural blood stained blonde—with the holes in his sneakers. . .”

premise: you’ve had a crush on Abby - for a while now - but you’re too afraid to tell her. does she feel the same?

short little thing I wanted to write!!! I just love me some good ole’ butches!!!!!! :3

trigger warnings: vague intoxication, suggestive themes (?), jealously, NOT proof read ~_~

————

A FEW NIGHTS prior to this one, you had asked Abby to come with you to some party Nora had invited you to.

Sat cross legged on her sofa, you nudged her shoulder, “Abby. Please just come. I know you don’t wanna, but neither do I,” you said, a pleading etched between your brows. “But. It’ll be a little more fun if we both went.”

At this Abby rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her broad shoulders as she shots you a look. “You realize you could’ve said no. Right? And anyways, why am I being forced to go.”

The next words that had fallen from your mouth had settled unwarranted—causing you to mentally curse yourself later that night.

“I wanna spend time with you. I like it when you’re around.”

When the words had settled in the cusps of wind, sweeping past your heads, Abby’s face pressed into something unreadable. You’d seen the way the corner of lips twitched—and at this, you reiterate your words, “I mean. Whatever. Abs, can you just come. Please?” That night, you had found both you and Abby had chosen to undermine your words. Neither of you mentioning them.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” she says, letting out a breath, “just don’t drink too much. Okay?”

To be fair, you had never said you wouldn’t get shitfaced. If you were being honest, you had only done it to take your mind off things.

Things such as the curve of Abby’s smile. Things such as the belt buckles she wears—ones that hug her perfectly. And lastly (though not all), the furrow of her brows as she speaks, “Fucking Christ.”

You lean the entirety of your body weight against the porcelain surface behind. The bathroom both you and Abby reside in tonight is small—a friend of a friend, as Nora had stated. Abby stands tall in front of you, her braid faintly unraveled, a white shirt clinging tightly to her skin—as well as that damned belt buckle. Almost all of it is instilled in a pressing silver—save for the actual belt, a beautiful brown.

Her boots touch your own as she brings a hand to your face, lifting it up.

In contrast to hers, your outfit was different in many ways. A long, velvet skirt flowed aimlessly at your sides, though its end didn’t meet the ground. A black v-neck shirt rests over your shoulders, displaying hints of your breast’s that lay beneath. Jewelry adorns your fingers, over the curvatures of your neck and ears. Just how you like it.

Your makeup is smudged. And as you smile, you say, “What? Can’t I have fun?”

Her hand abandons the flesh of your cheek. You nearly shudder as you reminisce over the ghost of her touch, “You’re having too much fun.” She says, rather plainly.

You hum in response, your eyes dipping to the hem of her shirt. And now, you recall, her brown jacket lays comfortably over your shoulders.

“Who was that girl you were talking to?” You suddenly question, the words leaving you as easily as ever.

To this, she cocks a brow. Without any hint of hesitance, both of her hands fall to waist. This alone makes the pace of your beat faster than your thoughts, your knees nearly buckling as you at her with a wobbly vision.

“Liya,” she says, immediately. “Just a friend.” She states, invading your space as she leans in closer, “you jealous?” She jokes.

Any other night, you might not have said anything. Any other night, you might have dwelled on their conversation for far too long in the enclosed walls of your room. But tonight, with a faint drunkeness tingling against your tongue—as well as this longing for Abby, you admit it:

“Yeah.” You say, your lips pulled into a thin line.

Her eyes widen for a moment. A look of contemplation is evident across her features. She studies you for a moment; from the hammering of your heart, to the cupids bow of your lips. All the while, you’re nearly about the spit a string of apologies. But she beats you to it.

“Nothing to be worried about,” she says, now entirely in your space. Her lips are brushing over your own, “I’m yours. All yours. Only if you want me to be.”

Quickly you say, “I want you to be.”

It’s quiet until she laughs, that sound blocking out all sounds of the overwhelming music that pours beneath the slit of the door, “Good.” She says, and then presses her lips against yours.

It’s just how you imagined it would be—some kind of party, a confession of feelings, and so on. Because with all your yearning, all of it pounding against your ribs, it’s what you deserved. What you knew Abby wanted to give you as her lips press harder against yours.

She pushes your body gently against that porcelain sinks. That alone makes you groan, alongside the way she pushes her knee into you.

It’s sloppy. It’s soft and it’s everything you ever wanted. But suddenly, Abby’s pulling away.

“You’re still drunk. And I don’t wanna do this here. You deserve to be loved comfortably.”

At this, you realized you wanted her forever. That she wanted you forever.

[revelboo]

omg, your stories are so good!! Really love that you write for characters I don't usually get to see, like waspinator, the insecticons, etc. Plus you also got me interested in Sunstorm, Which is surprising cause I didn't used to give him a second thought, before. Now I'm curious about where that story is going. Can't wait to see what you do in the future!

You guys have challenged me to write for a lot of characters I’d never written before and I love it

Where I Belong Pt 12

Bluestreak x Reader

• Waking up tangled in someone else, it takes a moment to remember that Blue had never mass shifted back after telling you all of it. He’d just wrapped himself around you, grieving until he’d finally gone into recharge still clinging to you like you’re his security blanket. Now his face is jammed against your neck, one of the points of his chevron digging uncomfortably into your cheek and his knee is between your thighs, arms wrapped around you. And he’s still out, you can feel him venting against you and you don’t have the heart to wake him. Tipping your head back to try and avoid getting poked by his chevron, you listen to the hum of his internal systems.

• There’s a soft hand on his helm, arms holding him and he curls tighter against that warmth and safety. Slowly coming out of recharge without that hum of terror chasing him into alertness. Without the nightmares. “Blue, honey, I can’t breathe,” you say and he’s fully online. Head lifting, he realizes he’s wrapped around you and he awkwardly scoots back. Forcing himself to stop smothering you and to put some distance between you both when he just wants to bury his face back against you. Feel those soft hands on him telling him that he’s okay. Reassuring him. “Sleep okay?” You ask him, somehow not annoyed with him when you should be. Have every right to be.

• “Sorry. I guess I got a little clingy there.” He can’t even look you in the eye right now, too embarrassed about needing someone to hold him. Like there’s something wrong with him for it. And you wiggle closer, resting your cheek on his chassis. See his arm lift, hand hovering but not touching and you grab his wrist and firmly drag his arm down to drape over you. “You don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice small. Like he thinks he’s bothering you and it makes you more determined to stay right where you are.

• “What am I doing? You’re warm and it’s freezing in here,” you reply, relaxing against him with a yawn. Pretending that you’re not trying to comfort him, trying to help. Servos hesitantly playing with your hair, he forces himself to relax. Willing to play along if he can feel your heart beating against him, grounding him in the reality that he’s not alone anymore. Doesn’t expect you to stay. No one ever does, but wants to hang on to this feeling until you get tired with him. Until he becomes too much of a burden.

• “Thank you,” he whispers and that almost breaks your heart. Like the fact that anyone might just actually want to reach out to him, to stay beside him is unthinkable to him. Makes you want to hunt down whoever put that thought into his head and beat some sense into them. Because this sweet bot is beginning to mean the world to you and you’re determined to protect him at any cost.

Previous

[qiu-yan]

avoidance

if i had been in jiang cheng's position immediately after the fall of lotus pier, i probably would not have tried to strangle wei wuxian.

i don't like dealing with negative emotions, so instead i'd probably say some bullshit like "whaaat? no, it's not your fault and i don't blame you at all, so don't worry about it," and then just put all my energy towards trying to survive. except i would blame wei wuxian. i would very much blame him, from the depths of my soul. even if i tried my hardest to convince myself not to blame him, that i should not blame him, that i do not want to blame him - nonetheless, my subconscious would remain convinced that, were it not for him, my family and everyone i grew up with would still be alive.

and, because of that resentment, i would begin to pull away from him.

i would not save wei wuxian from that wen patrol. even if i did love that deeply, my resentment would still blunt my reaction time and i would not be able to act in time. for the sake of convenience, let's say that wen ning rescues wei wuxian from lotus pier anyways. wei wuxian lives. what happens then? on one hand, i still resent him for causing the deaths of all my family; on the other hand, though, now i also feel guilty for allowing him to be captured and tortured simply because i would not die in his place. how do i deal with these complicated emotions - these unsightly, ugly emotions? i don't. i bury them and pretend they don't exist, because running away from difficult feelings is how i've always lived my life - i run away from him, because whenever i see him, this twinned of resentment and guilt rear their ugly heads again.

thus, because of my emotional unavailability, the relationship tanks. maybe wei wuxian gets his core melted, somehow picks up demonic cultivation anyways, and is thus pulling away from me as well; maybe the avoidance comes from both ends. and if wei wuxian instead notices that something is wrong and starts pestering me about what's wrong - well, i have full faith in my ability to deflect. i am long-practiced in diverting the focus of a conversation specifically to imply that the other party's concern isn't welcome.

thus, by the time the sunshot campaign ends, our relationship would have severely deteriorated. and then, because of this, i would take wei wuxian leaving our sect to protect the wen remnants as the actual end of our bond. unlike jiang cheng, i would not even argue against wei wuxian's leaving, nor say things as sentimental as "if you insist on protecting them, then i cannot protect you" - instead, i'd simply write off our relationship as doomed and sever it peacefully.

after all, he owes me nothing. i am entitled to neither his labor nor his presence. if he wishes to leave, then he is free to go; if he wishes to no longer be family, the i will no longer think of him as so. in fact, the less familiarly i think of him, the better: it is at once much easier and much more comfortable for me to believe, in a post-hoc sense, that someone who has left me actually never wanted to be with me to begin with, and i therefore have not lost anything of value at all. and this loss would not hurt me as much as it hurt jiang cheng in canon. after all, i, unlike jiang cheng, am a veteran at avoiding all thought on topics that distress me; instead, i'd soon find something new and exciting with which to distract myself.

i would not visit wei wuxian in the burial mounds. if jiang yanli insisted on seeing him, perhaps i would accompany her there, but i would not make any conversation with him myself beyond what is absolutely necessary. i would consider the death of jin zixuan unforgivable. i would consider the death of jiang yanli unforgivable. but perhaps i would not feel as wretchedly betrayed as jiang cheng does in canon: after all, i in this scenario, unlike jiang cheng, have already given up on wei wuxian a long time ago.

i would probably lead the first siege of the burial mounds. i would not hold the same level of animosity against the wens as jiang cheng does in canon - in general, while i can hold onto subconscious resentment for a long time, actively clinging onto seething hatred for extended periods of time is difficult for me. perhaps i'd even speak up more for the wen remnants, out of purely some abstract moral concern for the wellbeing of POWs; however, i'd stand down the moment any of said speech put my own people in danger. perhaps i'd lead the first siege of the burial mounds because it is expected of me. or perhaps i'd genuinely want the man who hurt my sister to die.

either way, if i then encountered wei wuxian in the burial mounds battlefield, i would actually kill him. it would be easy for me to do so.

---

as you might have guessed, the "i" in this passage is not actually me (yanyan) from real life. if it were Me In Real Life in jiang cheng's position i would probably just die.

instead, the "i" in thjis passage is a different MDZS character. prize for you (bragging rights) if you can guess who it is!!!!!

[absurdthirst]

Beauty and the Bloodsucker {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Ratings: Explicit

Word Count: 11.6k

Warnings: Beauty and Beast AU, magical enchantments, imprisonment(?), quasi hostage, Stockholm syndrome-ish, magical timelines, seduction, blood drinking (Max is a vampire beast), oral sex (female receiving), loss of virginity, beastly sex, heartbreak, depression, fear/anger, castle attack, pillaging, threats of death, gunshot, blood, breaking the spell, arrogant/playful Max, happily ever after

Comments: Just an excuse to have Max be the Beast!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Phillips MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“We should go back.” You whisper, dragging your cloak closer around your body as the wind whips through the bare branches of the trees and seems to speak. The voices are almost incoherent but it makes the dread pool in your stomach. “We cannot.” The shadows play off the light from the small torch in your brother’s hand as he turns back towards you, a heavy frown on his face. “The rent is due and if we do not pay, we will be tossed out on the street.” The landlord that owned the little cottage you live in had decided to raise your rent when you declined to marry him. He is vengeful and yet you know that no one in the small town you live in would help you. Everyone is terrified of him. “This place is massive. And deserted.” Your brother had come home yesterday, claiming he had discovered a way to raise the money for your increased rent. The washing you had taken in was no longer enough. “We will simply find a few things to sell here.”

You hear chatter coming from the shadows and you shiver again, “please. Let’s go.” You beg your brother who spins on his heel, “would you shut the fu-” His insult dies as his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. “That’s not the way you speak to a lady.” The beast tuts, his wings spanned out behind him and his fangs glistening in the moonlight. 

You spin around and gasp, the scream dying in your throat with the way your brother grabs you. “Run. Get out of here!” Your brother screams and the beast scoffs, “she’s not going anywhere. Neither of you are. You stole from me. You dared to steal more from my castle. I should kill you.” Max chuckles darkly, “I am bored…I think I’ll kill you.” He decides but you step forward, “don’t kill us. Surely there’s some agreement we can come to.” You plead, eyes wide as you take in the beast. 

“Hmmm,” Max hums, “an agreement. I think -  a trade. You have taken from me after all.” You choke, “we don’t have anything. Our landlord has taken it all. We don’t own anything unless…unless you take me.” You offer, knowing you are condemning yourself to death but your brother is stronger. He can come back to save you. The beast stares at you, his dark eyes taking you in, and he sighs. He hasn’t had a companion for many years. Not since the last one died of natural causes. “Very well.” He decides, knowing that he would enjoy the company for a while, “how much gold for your sister?” The beast asks and you stand straight despite your hands shaking at the idea of remaining in the cold, damp castle.

“You cannot-“ your brother hisses and you shake your head. “He will kill us.” You remind him, not taking your eyes off the beast. His face almost looks human but there are heavy bones in the face, his eyes yellow and the glint of his fangs in the dim moonlight make your heart race. You take a shuddering breath. “Thirty pieces.” You decide, making your brother’s eyes widen. “You can live a comfortable life.” You finally turn towards him and take his cold hands in your own. “Marry. Perhaps our landlord will lower the rent when he learns I have, um, left.”

Your brother shakes his head, “no. No. I will not leave you here with a monster.” Max growls at that, the sound echoing off the wall, and you shudder in fear but try to stay strong. “Please. Let him go.” You beg to the monster who tilts his head, almost like he’s appraising you. “Very well. Thirty coins.” Max snaps his fingers, nails long and yellow, to the shadows and your brother shakes his head, “you cannot do this. He will kill you.” Your brother pleads but you reach for him to hug him. You don’t get to as a bag of coins is thrown on the floor and an arm wraps around your waist. You scream and your brother reaches for you but it’s too late. 

By the time you blink, you’re in a bedroom and the door is locked behind you. “You bastard! You didn’t let me say goodbye!” You shout, rushing over to bang your fists on the door. “You didn’t let me say goodbye.” You choke, tears in your eyes as the realization hits you. You have been sold to a monster.

Max stands outside the door, listening to your cries and curses. Something deep inside him stirs, his long talons hovering above the doorknob for a moment before he pulls his hand away. The deal had been struck and you had made it willingly. He strides away, his wings flapping slightly as he goes to find his housekeeper. A new tenant has arrived and she must be made aware.

You sniff as there’s a knock on the door, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, and you stumble to stand up just as the door is unlocked. An older woman walks in, a warm smile on her face that puts you immediately at ease. “Hello dearie. Max told me we have a new guest. I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Mrs. Smith and I am the housekeeper. We want to make sure you are comfortable. What foods do you like?” She asks, trailing her eyes along your figure, “and we will arrange for new clothes and you may change the bedroom however you wish.” She promises and you swallow harshly, “I - I- Max? Is that the beast’s name?” You ask, a frown on your face. 

“Maxwell Phillips.” She informs you, “his family have owned this castle for centuries.” She smiles, “now, let me fetch you some tea. You may roam anywhere in the castle but stay away from the left wing.” She warns and you nod, curious but too emotional to move from the safety of the bedroom. “Thank you.” You murmur, your throat hoarse.

You are a pretty thing, and Max likes pretty. She hums to herself as she walks down the hall, thinking about the years that have passed with her and the rest of the staff remaining the same age since the curse was cast and how many companions have been here over those centuries. It’s been a lonely existence and she sighs when she hears Francis and Corbin arguing down the hall. There is not a day that goes by that those two do not squawk at each other and if it weren’t for the fact that none of them technically could die, she would murder them herself. “Stop it!” She hisses, glaring at them when she rounds the corner and finds the tall and lanky man about the tussle with the short, portly one. “You would think after one hundred years you would find a way to get along!” She chides them. “We have a guest and I will not have you stressing her. Poor thing looks frightened.”

“Do you think she could be the one? To break the curse?” Francis asks, his eyes wide and excited. The servants in the castle have been frozen, not aging for centuries, and it’s lonely when they only have each other and cannot form other bonds. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Corbin scoffs, “she will be like the rest. You know he gets wearisome and agitated by them after a while. They all end up-” He drags his finger across his throat. “Can we see her? Is she pretty? If she’s beautiful she may be the one.” Francis says with hope but Mrs. Smith shakes her head, “leave her be for now. She must settle in. She has many lonely days ahead of her. You know Maxwell takes days to come down from his beastly form.” 

The men nod and Francis sighs, “let us prepare dinner for her. Surely if we treat her well, she will want to stay.” Corbin rolls his eyes, “perfect plan. Here’s a feast. Please stay and fall in love with our master so his curse is broken and we can finally live a normal life.” Francis scoffs, “you know nothing. The way to a heart is through the stomach. She will love us and in turn, love him.” The men continue to bicker while Mrs. Smith makes her way to the kitchen to check on the cook who is preparing supper for everyone. You sigh, eyes sore from sobs as you stare out the window to the vast forest, unaware that Max is doing the same thing across the castle.

Max turns away from the window, looking at the glass covered blood red rose, sparkling with the enchantment and the old crone’s words haunt him. The petals had begun to wilt and he knows that he will fail. He will be doomed to wear his grotesque monster form for eternity once the last petal falls. “She will not have anything to do with me.” He growls, hating himself for finding her so beautiful. Her smell is intoxicating and he wishes to drink from her. He flaps his wings and from the broken window of his chambers, he flies off into the night in search of an animal to drain of their lifeblood.

You look up when there’s a knock on the door and you see Mrs. Smith pushing a cart full of food. “Wow. I - this is all for me?” You ask and she nods, “I can’t - this is too much. I am happy with bread and some soup.” You promise and she tuts, “don’t be silly dearie. You must eat.” She insists and you stand up, making your way over to the cart and you inhale the smell of chicken and potatoes. “Thank you.” You murmur and she nods, “settle in. Tomorrow, we will give you a tour of the estate.”

Mrs. Smith walks towards the door and looks back to find you piling a plate high with the chicken. She wonders if it has been quite a while since you’ve had a hearty, proper meal. The staff will love spoiling you if you turn out to be as sweet as you seem to be.

The food is plentiful and you feel stuffed after you finish eating. Back home, you’d be lucky to have meat for dinner unless your brother spent the day hunting. You stare out the window and you wonder what your future holds. You haven’t seen the beast yet. You wonder if he will show.

****

Max flies high above the ground, watching the world as it passes under him with great flaps of his wings. Flying is probably his only escape from the reality of his existence. Your blood is already calling to him and he cannot attack you, not when you are so beautiful and scared of him. Glancing down, he spots a deer and growls, his fangs popping out and he swoops down to capture his meal. 

You finish your meal and Mrs. Smith returns to take it away and says you will meet the seamstress tomorrow for new clothes and you shake your head, “I don’t need - I have clothes.” You explain, and Mrs. Smith raises her eyebrows, “you have nothing with you, dear. We will supply you with what you need.” She promises, “Mr. Phillips supplies us with everything we need.” She promises and you sigh, “it’s nice to put a name to the monstrous face.”

“He was not always so monstrous.” She tuts as she cleans up the plates and stacks everything on the trolly to roll it out of your room. “There was once a time when Mr. Phillips was considered the most handsome man in the lands. Unfortunately, he was also very vain as well.” She sighs. “His existence is one that haunts him now.” 

You scoff, “he may have been handsome but inside he’s a monster. Buying me from my brother…I do not know his purpose and I never wish to find out.” You promise and she nods, sighing softly, “very well. Get some rest. Tomorrow, your new life begins.” She says and strides out of your room. You shake your head, “I won’t be staying here.” You murmur to yourself when she’s gone. You refuse to let that monster keep you prisoner. After a few hours pass, you grab your cape and wrap it around yourself, opening the bedroom door and sneaking into the hallway. The halls are empty and quiet and you tiptoe through the castle, finding a door to escape. You hear voices down the hall, “she will come around. He must have her fall for him. It’s our last chance.” You frown at that and wait until the footsteps disappear and you escape through the door, making your way into the gardens. You exhale shakily, the moon lighting your way as you run through the hedges until you’re in the forest. It’s dark and your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to find your way. You hear a howl and start to run, your cape flowing behind you and you keep glancing over your shoulder. You miss the tree roots across the ground and cry out as you fall forward, twisting your ankle and you hear leaves crunch before a figure looms over you. You scream, terrified as the monster is above you.

Max growls, furious that you are trying to escape, but he doesn’t strike you. Instead he reaches down, ignoring your scream as he gathers you up in his arms. His wings push the two of you off the ground and he shoots up into the sky. “Foolish girl.” He hisses as he flies up over the treetops with you in his grasp. “Do you know what roams these woods? Beside me?” 

Your next scream echoes but is lost to the sky as he carries you back to the castle. You cling to him, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to not look down. You stumble when he sets you down in the gardens and you scramble away from him, his wings spread out and blocking the moon from your gaze. “You’re - you just - oh my-” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you collapse from the shock of flying and the reality that you’re trapped here in this castle.

Max rolls his eyes and sighs as he looks down at you. Realizing that he can’t leave you on the cold hard ground. His wings fold against his back and he reaches down to pick you up again, opting to carry you without flying back to your room. The servants gawk at him as he trudges through the halls with your body limp in his arms, ignoring the whispers as he carries you to the bed and lays you down far more gently than you deserve. “Now stay.” He commands, unable to resist caressing your cheek before turning away and closing the door behind him. 

When you wake up, it’s daylight and you inhale sharply as the events of last night come back to you. He flies. He flew with you in his arms. The thought makes you sick and you sit up, trying to inhale deeply to control yourself. You are terrified of the man you’ve been sold to but you can’t leave. It’s clear he will find you and there’s no way you can survive in the woods alone. You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You need him to let you go. There’s a knock on your door and you stand, watching Mrs. Smith roll in a tray full of fruits and breads. It’s more food than you have had in months. “Thank you.” You murmur and she nods, turning to leave, “the master wants to speak with you after you finish breakfast and we will find you a dress to wear until your new ones are finished.” She announces and you nod, knowing this could be the chance to convince him to let you go.

“You must woo her.” Andrew advises, having been Max’s valet for many years, making Max snort as he paces. “With this face?” He sneers, his fangs hanging over the edge of his lips and his face unable to shift out of his monstrous form. “I am a beast.” He growls, once again struck by the irony. All of his staff are still human looking, only he took the true form of a vampire and it has been his damnation. No one could see past his anger and his ugly countenance to see the witty humor or sharp sarcasm he possesses. It was a shame really, because he finds himself hilarious.

You follow Mrs. Smith through the halls until you enter a room and you gasp as you look around. It’s a huge library with books scattered everywhere and it seems to go on forever. “Wow.” You murmur, glancing around the room until you hear his voice, “I take it you like to read?” He asks and you nod, “very much so. It’s - wow. You must have hundreds of books in here.” You exclaim and he chuckles, “try thousands.” You shake your head, “it would take forever to read every book in here.” Max chuckles, “well, it’s a good thing I have forever.” You frown, taking in his image in the daylight. The heavy brow and yellow eyes are scary but the wings are tucked behind him and he looks almost human. “Why did you bring me back here?” You demand to know why he didn’t let you run.

He doesn’t frown, but he tilts his head, as if you are an odd curiosity. “You agreed to stay with me.” He reminds you. “For the thirty pieces of gold I gave your brother. You agreed.” He stresses before he gestures towards the library. “You don’t like your new home? You need more books? More dresses?” He asks, wondering what would make you happy here.

“I agreed because my brother needed to survive. We were struggling. Could barely find enough coin to eat and our landlord put our rent up after I declined his proposal. I - I wanted to sacrifice myself for my brother. He deserves a chance and I never - I was not going to marry a villager. They don’t like women who read. Women who think for themselves. I didn’t want to be a housewife collecting the eggs from the chickens and carrying a baby.” You shake your head, “I want to know why you didn’t let me risk my life in the woods. Why did you pay my brother for me?” You deflect his questions about the books and the dresses.

“I protect what is mine.” Max’s fangs flash in the light and he almost growls that protectively. You tense up and he senses that he might have been too intense so he relaxes and shrugs his wings. “I paid because you were honest about stealing from me.” He snorts. “Have to hand it to you, not many people tell the truth. They lie to save their necks.” He sighs. “Gold doesn’t mean anything to me. I would have paid whatever you demanded.”

You accept his answer. He has no reason to lie. Not when he has you in his home. “I had no motivation to lie to you. Not when you could’ve killed us.” You tilt your head, wondering what he looked like as a human. “So what is it you want from me?” You ask and he sighs, “I want you to get to know me. Not the beast. Me.” He confesses and you frown, “that’s all? You don’t want anything physical? Most men would want…more.”

“If you were offering, I wouldn’t say no.” Max snorts. “You are a gorgeous creature that deserves to be worshiped, but I don’t think that you would want my touch.” He knows how you view him. You’ve screamed and fainted enough to give him that clue. “I am not that kind of monster. I could coerce you into my bed with a simple look, but that is not what I want. So, I would like you to just spend time with me. Talk with me.”

You stare at him, wondering for a moment if he’s tricking you and you wonder what he means about a single look but you nod, “very well. I can talk to you.” You assure him even if he terrifies you. Human men would’ve taken advantage by now so you feel a little more comfortable that he isn’t going to harm you. “Good. Let’s, uh, talk.” He says awkwardly, clearly not having anticipated your conversation lasting this long. You walk over to the bookshelf, caressing the spines of several books, “why do you have so many books?”

“I like to read.” He snorts, as if it should be obvious. “I enjoy learning about different places, different things.”

You turn to look at him, “they aren’t organized.” You observe and he shrugs again, “I get lazy about putting them back.” You shake your head, “an unorganized library is like an unorganized mind. You’ll never find anything. You must ensure the books are in the right place.” You tell him, “you have to take care of things otherwise you’ll lose them to time.”

He smirks but on his face looks more wicked than anything. “Then why don’t you organize it for me?” He asks, making your eyes blow wide in surprise. “What?” You shake your head but he nods. “It’s perfect. You can see what books I have and then add any that you see that I am missing to the collection.”

You huff, looking around at the ridiculous amount of books that are in random piles, “it will take forever.” You whine slightly even though you like the idea. Max chuckles, “we have forever, sweetheart.” You tilt your head at his wording but nod, “I wouldn’t mind spending my days in here.” You confess, “and seeing as I’m not going anywhere, I’ll accept the task.”

“Perfect!” He claps his hands together, his talons clinking together and he grins again. “It will be good to have it cleaned up. The servant can help too.” He wrinkles his nose when he notices how dusty everything is. “Just because I’m a beast doesn’t mean we have to live like it, right? Or you live, I don’t breathe.” He jokes.

“You don’t - you don’t breathe?” You ask and he nods, “what exactly are you?” You inquire, curious as you step away from the book shelf towards him. He flashes his fangs, “I’m a vampire.” You inhale sharply, knowing he could kill you without you even knowing it. “I didn’t know - how did you become-” You gesture to his form, “this?”

He growls slightly, the grin slipping down into a frown. “It was a dark, stormy night.” He tells you dramatically. “An old witch knocked on the door and asked to come inside. I refused her and she attacked me, biting my neck and cursing me.” He explains. “When I changed, she told me that I would stay like this until….” He breaks off and looks towards the west wing of the house. “Until I had learned my lesson.” He finished lamely, not wanting you to pity him or pretend to love him. It wouldn’t work.

Your eyes widen at the story, “and what lesson are you supposed to learn?” You inquire and he snarls slightly, “it doesn’t matter.” You nod and reach for a book to occupy your hands, “so how long have you been like this?” You want to know his story, it will help you understand why you’re a prisoner in his castle.

“One the eve of the new year, it will have been one hundred years since I have taken a breath.” Max tells you, thinking about the rose upstairs. He knows that he is running out of time, but he hopes that you will be the one to break the curse. The staff is already whispering about it in the hallways, as if he couldn’t hear them.

“One hundred - oh my goodness.” You gasp, shocked that the beast in front of you is over a century old. “And the staff?” You ask and he nods, “they are frozen in time with me.” You are struggling to process this. So much has happened within the past day so your mind whirls until he steps back, “I know I’m a monster but I would like you to enjoy living in my home.” He says and you nod, “it appears this is my new home. It’s beautiful. I am struggling to realize that you are - wow. I am sorry that this happened to you.”

He softens at your kindness and if he could, he would be blushing. “Would you like to order some tea while we get started?” He asks. He won’t drink anything, but you might like something. Mrs. Smith had told him that you had been scarfing down the food like you weren’t used to proper meals. He wants you to be comfortable and happy here with him. “And some sweets?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “Mr. Phillips, are you trying to bribe me?” You ask and he stammers, “well no. I am trying to be a good host and I-” You giggle as he loses his confidence for a moment and you pick up a book, “I’m joking. I would love some tea and sweets. I must confess that my brother and I haven’t been blessed with ample food.” You admit and Max walks over to ring the bell, “you’ll have whatever you want here.” His words make your stomach twist and you nod, inspecting the book, “thank you.”

The silence settles between the two of you and Max feels almost shy. It’s been a long time since anyone has just been in the same room as him, besides the servants. They were used to his gruesome visage but it seems that you either pretend he is not there or feel more comfortable as you start to sort books into growing piles.

****

Weeks later, Max lounges on a chair, watching you as you take a sip of your customary tea. Since that first visit to the library, every time you are here, there is a pot of tea waiting and some small treat for you to nibble on. You have grown even more beautiful, flourishing with proper meals and rest. Your eyes are fixed on the page of the book and he leans forward when you start to read to him again.

You have softened towards Max in the past few weeks. He has let you have your space and you have spent your days organizing his library. You have come to know him more, listening to his comments on different books and his jokes that made you giggle even if you rolled your eyes. He may look like a monster but you have come to know him as the man he was. “So you weren’t married before your change?” You ask as you sip your tea and he snorts, “I was an asshole. I was vain, cocky, and I couldn’t conceive considering someone else’s happiness.” He confesses and you set your tea cup down, “well, now you consider my happiness by making sure I have enough sweets to rot my teeth.” You tease, picking up the small cake.

He chuckles. “Call it envy.” He hums. “I cannot eat sweets anymore and I used to love them.” He recalls fondly. “So watching you enjoy them is the next best thing.” He doesn’t add that your blood smells sweeter and is intoxicating to him. He doesn’t want to scare you when you are starting to become more at ease with him.

You offer him a sweet smile, knowing that he’s telling the truth. He may look beastly but he’s funny and very smart. You’ve spent days discussing literature and he doesn’t dismiss your opinions as “frivolous thoughts of a silly woman” but he listens intently and has a discussion with you. “I was thinking about taking a walk around the gardens.” Max says after you finish the cake. “Would you like to join me? I can show you the roses that the gardener prides himself on.” He says and you nod, “I’d love that.”

He’s both surprised and delighted that you will talk with him. Despite the rumors that vampires are allergic to the sun, he has no problem walking around during the day. He stands and offers you his arm as you brush any crumbs carefully off your lap. “Shall we?”

You take his arm and his form doesn’t scare you like it did before. You know he’s not going to kill you but he could with a flick of his wrist. You always thought vampire myths detailed them keeping their human form but Max is different. He can walk in the sun. You make your way outside and you breathe in the fresh air. “Your gardens are beautiful. It’s a shame people cannot come and see them.”

Max sighs. “If the people knew what I am, they would kill me.” He looks around and sees the flowers blooming in the freshly fallen snow. It’s a rarity, but the gardener had perfected the art of growing flowers in the winter. One hundred years of practice makes perfect. You shiver slightly, not wearing a wrap and Max unfolds one wing to wrap around your shoulders. “I should have insisted on you wearing a coat.” He chides himself. “I don’t feel the cold.”

You know you should be terrified of him but you can’t find it in you. Not when he’s shown you nothing but kindness since that first night. You live in luxury, getting to read books and paint instead of breaking your back doing laundry for the townsfolk. “I’m okay.” You promise and lean closer to him. “It’s too beautiful to go back inside and get a coat.” You insist and grip his arm a little tighter.

He preens slightly, his back straightening and his other wing ruffles slightly. Proudly puffing his chest out as he continues to take you around the garden. Explaining what the gardener had done and how he had managed to keep flowers growing all year long. “Since I am so ugly now, I love having beautiful things around me. Flowers, women.” He teases, winking at you when you look up at him.

You playfully roll your eyes even though your stomach clenches. He may look grotesque but he isn’t as bad as he looks. He can be sweet even if he can be harsh at times. His sarcasm makes you snort and his jokes make you laugh. “I haven’t seen any other women that aren’t servants.” You hum and he says softly, “because I only want the most beautiful woman in the world in my home.” You look at him at that moment, his yellow eyes sincere and your heart flutters. You’re silent but leaning closer, driven by the emotional tidal wave inside you. “Master Phillips. Master Phillips.” Corbin calls out and you immediately move back from Max, turning to the older portly man as he rushes over to Max.

****

You return to your room and spend your time reading until Mrs. Smith and Mrs Delacroix enter your rooms. “Miss. We must dress you. The master has requested your presence at a ball.” Mrs. Smith grins and your eyes widen, “a ball? Is anyone else invited?” Mrs. Smith shakes her head and you swallow, “just us. Wow. I don’t have anything to wear.” You admit and Mrs. Delacroix smirks, “oh don’t worry, mademoiselle, I have the perfect dress for you.” The two older women grin and you nod, nervous for a dance with Max. You are dressed and soon making your way to the ballroom, your heart pounding and you enter the landing for the large staircase that leads down to the ballroom dance floor.

Max is standing in the middle of the ballroom floor, resplendent in a suit that was custom made to fit around his wings. He had scrubbed and slicked his hair back, shined his fangs until they gleamed and tried to trim his talons but they had just grown back. In his hand, he holds one yellow rose, to match the gown that Mrs. Delacroix had fitted to your gorgeous body. He swears his heart would start beating when you appear and give him a shy smile as you descend the steps and he moves forward to meet you. “You are the angel to my devil.” He murmurs softly, taking your hand and kissing the back of it.

He looks so handsome, his yellow eyes taking in your gown and you smile, “thank you. You are the devil in disguise.” You promise, “you look good, Max. Really good.” You inhale deeply and the smell of his cologne hits your senses. “For you.” He holds the rose out and you soften even more, taking the flower and smelling it. “You are spoiling me.”

“Not yet,” he chuckles as he guides you over to the long, formal table that could seat twenty five, but there are just two place settings amongst the platters of pies and tarts, roasts and gravy. It is a banquet that would rival a king’s table. He pulls out your chair and pushes it in for you, before sitting down across from your seat. “Eat.” He orders softly. 

You feel guilty having so much food for just you but you know Max likes extravagance. You dig in eagerly, knowing your days could be numbered here but you haven’t felt in danger since that first night in the castle. “You have an eternity, right?” You ask Max who taps his fingers on the table cloth, “in a way, yes.” He hopes he doesn’t have an eternity stuck like this. “What will you do with an eternity?” You inquire, wondering if he has plans.

Max’s eyes slide away for a moment, looking up towards the ceiling at the west wing and he sighs. “I don’t know.” He admits quietly. “I have already been lonely for so long, I don’t want to think about what will happen when eons pass by and I’m still here.” You tilt your head curiously. “You can go anywhere you want, can’t you?” You ask and he shakes his head, “the curse keeps me bound to my lands. I cannot leave beyond its borders.” He reveals, knowing that he is giving you a chance to escape if you want to, but he is hoping that you will stay. 

Your heart breaks for him and you reach out to touch his hand, “I hope you can break the curse.” You don’t ask him how that’s accomplished because you don’t want to torture him if the curse is something that cannot be broken easily. “Me too.” He says, his eyes burning into yours and he squeezes your hand just as the music begins to play. You turn to look over your shoulder as a small band made up of servants convenes in the corner.

It looks like you have eaten your fill, if not, you can always come back to it. Pushing his chair back, Max stands and holds out his hand to you. “Dance with me, beauty,” he croons softly, hoping you take his hand. When he was a human, he had attended many dances and was good at it. Hopefully his abilities as a vampire will only improve those skills. 

You take his hand, your heart fluttering as you stand up and he escorts you to the center of the ballroom. The band continues to play and you let him pull you close and you grip his shoulder and his hand. “I am not the best dancer.” You confess, “never really had a need to dance in the taverns.”

Max smiles a toothy grin. “No one here will judge you.” He promises before he steps into the dance and sweeps you along with him. You gasp and hold onto his shoulder tighter, making him chuckle as he starts to twirl you around the large ballroom, your skirts swishing along with the two of you as you dance.

You are shocked by how good a dancer Max is. Guiding you around the ballroom for a few songs until your thirst takes over. “I need a drink.” You announce and Max rushes over to fetch you a glass of water. “Thank you.” You lean in to kiss his cheek and you swear he blushes. “Tonight has been magical.” You sigh, glancing back at the quartet and you turn back to Max who has a soft look in his eye.

“It has.” He could compel you, but it wouldn’t break the spell. Plus it would be a hollow victory if you were to fall into his arms. You give him the sweetest smile, one that shows him that you see past his monstrous face but Max still steps forward slowly. “I want to kiss you.” He growls softly, reaching for your waist to pull you gently towards him. Giving you ample opportunity to turn him away. “Will you let me?” He remembers what you said about most men just wanting more and he doesn’t want you to feel like he is forcing you.

His face is monstrous but you see his soul, the kindness hiding beneath the hue of his yellow eyes. He claims to be selfish and mean but you have found him to be giving and kind. He is capable of so much more. You want him to kiss you. You nod, knowing he could kill you with a flick of his wrist but he’s only protected you. You tilt your head as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his talons long but you’re not scared as his lips press against yours.

He takes it slow, keeping the kiss light and not pressing it further until your lips move. You change the angle of the kiss and Max growls. He still doesn’t take over, but he opens up and he feels your shiver when the edge of your tongue touches his fang, making him groan. It’s so innocent yet bold, spreading a warmth through his chest as he tightens his grip on you slightly and lets his own tongue touch against yours.

Your hands slide up his chest, gently gripping his suit jacket as you deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding against his and you gasp when his fang cuts your tongue and your drops of your blood spill into his mouth.

Max growls, feeling the need to taste you nearly overwhelming him, but he doesn’t attack you. Yanking his head away, his eyes are dark yellow, even more vivid than before.

You gasp when he pulls back to look at you, “I’m sorry.” He says and you shake your head, “it’s okay. I want - I want you to kiss me again.” You demand, your eyes wide and your chest heaving.

Your teeth are coated in the pink hue of your tongue but it makes Max even more ravenous as he swoops down to capture your lips again. It’s only a pity that it’s not enough blood to break the curse, and he isn’t convinced you love him yet. His tongue slides into your mouth eagerly and he crushes you against him, taking care not to hold you too tight.

You moan into his mouth, your hands sliding up to cup his cheeks, distorted beneath your touch and you slide your tongue against his, letting him taste you. The band stops playing and quietly leaves the ballroom, leaving you and Max to yourselves.

“I have to stop here.” Max confesses, hard and throbbing but he has pulled away from you again. “I do not wish to push you any farther than you would like to go and I can feel myself losing control.” He confesses. “I would never hurt you.” He adds. “I would make you scream in pleasure, but never fear.”

You have never been with a man but you want Max. You shouldn’t because he’s a beast but you see the kindness in his eye towards you. You want him to touch you. “I want you, Max. I don’t care that you are a vampire. I want you to take me to your bed. I’ve never thought - you would be the first.” You confess, biting your lip.

Max searches your eyes, looking for any hint of doubt and he finds none. His blood seemingly boils in his veins at your confession, making his passions undeniable. He scoops you up in his arms, and in the blink of an eye, you are transported to the west wing of the house. To his bedroom that had been previously forbidden for you to enter.

You shriek at the movement and you find yourself in a room you’ve never been in before. You gasp at the heavy drapes and painting that cover the room and near the window is a rose, sparkling and covered by glass. You don’t get a chance to ask about it as he spins you to press his lips to yours.

His talons almost shred the dress off your body but he tries to be gentle. Desperate to feel your skin and taste your warmth. He wants to give you the most pleasure you have only ever dreamed of. To show you that he can make you feel things that no one else can. Groaning softly when he caresses your back, he tugs the dress down to let it pool at your feet; your undergarments and your slippers the only thing you are wearing.

You step out of the dress, his hands all over your body and you reach for his cravat, pulling it loose and you toss it onto the floor so you can work on removing his shirt, untying it. “I want you, Max.” You plead, knowing he’s monstrous but you see the man beneath.

“You have me.” He promises, his talons are less careful with his own clothes. Hearing the fabric rip as he tries to get out of them so you can touch him as you wish to. His body is much like his face, human-like, but he is harder and more muscular than a human might ever dream of being, hard planes and sinewy under thick skin.

You gasp at the exposed skin and you slide your hands down his chest, noticing the lack of a heartbeat. “Max.” You moan when he leans in to kiss along your neck. He doesn’t bite you and you’re grateful for that, feeling his fangs scrap your skin as his hands grip your ass.

“Beautiful angel.” He groans softly, loving how sweet and warm you are. How you shiver against his cooler skin and your fingers caressing his chest feel like you are branding him with your touch. “Let me explore you.” He kisses your pulse and smiles when it jumps. “Taste you. Lick your sweet, untouched cunt and see if you will scream my name.” 

His words make you wet and you nod, letting him guide you to the large bed in the middle of the room. You moan when he kisses down your chest as you lay down on the bed. “Max.” You sigh, “touch me.”

Permission granted, Max starts to strip you of the thin layer keeping your body from his gaze. Hungry for you, he can smell the arousal that heats your cunt and he growls possessively, monstrous claws holding your thighs apart to look down at the thick thatch of hair that protects your sex and his tongue swipes across his fangs. Ravenous for you, he hooks your knees under his hands and lifts them up to his shoulders and he bends down, your feet perched on his wings as he dives into your cunt. 

Your cry echoes in the bedroom as his tongue slides through your folds. You’ve never felt anything like it and your hand immediately finds his hair, pulling to push him further into your flesh. “Oh my God, Max.” You moan, tilting your head back as your heart thumps.

You aren’t pushing him away. Instead you are arching your back and pulling him closer. Wanting more from the beast that he is. HIs growl of approval vibrates through your core and he laps at your clit before moving down to push his monstrous tongue into your wet heat, wanting to taste you from the source as he grinds his hips into the bed. 

Your chest heaves as he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. You whimper when he curls his tongue deep inside you, pushing against that spot that makes your heart pound and your stomach twist. “Fuck.” You curse, unable to help yourself.

He huffs, amused and enthralled by the curse that falls from your sweet lips. His yellow eyes are fixed on your face, watching your reactions as he continues to devour you. You are so sweet, even your taste is like the cakes and candies that he used to enjoy before he had been changed. He could become addicted to you. 

His tongue curls deep and his nose presses against your clit. “Oh God.” You pant, eyes squeezed shut as he pushes you higher and higher. “I am - I’ve never felt like this before.” You confess breathlessly. He chuckles at your confession, knowing that you couldn’t have felt this way when you’ve never had anyone - man or beast - between your thighs. Growling softly as he nudges his nose against the little button of pleasure above your entrance while he works his tongue deeper and deeper inside you. 

His tongue makes you see stars and you’re pushed over the edge within moments, your body tensing as you flood his tongue with your pleasure. You’ve never felt like that and your fingers tangle in his hair as you take what he gives you.

Your juices are just as addictive as blood. Making Max greedy as he slurps it down, working you through the first orgasm  you have received by another until your thighs are shaking and your feet are pressing into his wings. 

You gasp, struggling to try and get oxygen as he steals the breath from you with his mouth on your cunt. “Max. Max. I - oh God.” You whine when it becomes too much to handle. “I want to kiss you.” You demand, wanting to taste yourself on his lips.

He crawls up your body, his eyes fixed on yours and the monstrous planes of his face make him look evil. Like he is about to devour you, but he only wants to possess you and make you cry by giving you another round of breathtaking pleasure. Following your orders and kissing you as soon as he can reach your lips.

 You slide your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as your tang hits your tongue from his. Your hands slide up his stomach and you reach around to caress his wings, loving the way they flutter beneath your touch.

Max is still wearing his trousers, his cock straining against the seam and he reaches between the two of you, his claws slicing through the fabric to rip them off in his eagerness to free his length.

You slide your hands down his body, gasping when your fingers wrap around his hard length and you’re shocked at how big he is. You’ve seen naked men washing in your village and you never imagined feeling a man so large. “Max.” You plead, “tell me what to do.”

“Put me right at your entrance, Angel.” He groans and rocks his hips forward. “Tell me that I can slide inside you. That I can feel you around me.”

“Yes. Yes. I want you inside me.” You plead, feeling him shift so you can position him at your entrance. You’re dripping wet for him and you slide the head through your folds. “Take me, Max.” You beg, “I want to feel you inside me.”

You would be so easy to convince right now. Teasing you with his cock as he begs to drink your blood. You are desperate enough that you would consider it, probably letting him. Still he doesn’t. Instead, he slides his tongue into your mouth as he feels his cock notch at your entrance and he starts to slowly push inside you.

You grip his shoulders near his wings as he pushes slowly into you, his tongue caressing yours and you wince slightly at the sting when he pushes deeper and you try to relax to take him.

He feels how tight you are, despite him working to make sure you are wet and ready for him. He slowly rocks his hips and his wings unfurl in pleasure when you clench down around him.

“Max.” You cry as he pushes deep and he’s fully inside you. There’s a brief moment of pain but it fades when he kisses along your neck and allows you to adjust to him. “Oh God.” You pant, lifting your legs higher up on his hips.

You are perfect. Your sweet innocence is now taken by him, a monster. Yet you are whimpering for him to move and he waits still, wanting you to adjust to the feeling before he pulls his hips back.

He twitches inside you and you beg him to move and finally, he concedes. He rocks his hips and you close your eyes, head tilted back as you let him take your innocence. He's incredible and you see past the terror of his looks to see the man beneath.

Max tries to keep his pace slow, to build up to the frantic pace his own body is demanding. The tight heat of your cunt just makes him want to destroy you, to take everything you will give him and rail you into the bed. With his strength, that could kill you, so he holds himself back. Still, you moan every time he’s rocking back into your body.

You cling to him as he thrusts into you. Your mouth opens as he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. You moan and he smirks, “so tight for me.” You caress his back, his wings fluttering around you as he fucks you.

Max pushes his arms around your body, lifting you up off the bed as he continues to push in and out of your body, his wings flapping to keep you hovering above the sheets you were just writhing in.

You gasp in surprise and you clench around him. Your stomach twists and you’re getting closer. His talons dig into your flesh a little and you fall over the edge. His cock pushes deep and you cry out, clamping down on his cock as he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

Max throws his head back and growls, nearly a roar as he pushes deep. His seed is useless, but it paints your walls with thick, shuddering pulses as he follows you over the edge of bliss.

You cling to him, letting him work himself inside your body, and you sigh in bliss when he lays you back down on the sheets. “Max.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you open your eyes to look at him.

Max knows that he loves you. His heart would be pounding wildly if it still beat. He leans and gently kisses your lips, still buried inside you but he cannot stay there forever. Slowly, he pulls out of you and folds his wings down so he can against your body on his side. “How do you feel?”

“Perfect.” You murmur, curling into his side. You feel adored and relaxed, riding high on the pleasure from him. You caress his chest, lacking a heartbeat but you’re certain he can hear yours pounding in your chest. You close your eyes and breathe him in, “how - was it good for you?” You ask, curious and a little nervous.

“It was…..” Max tries to find a word to accurately describe it. “Beautiful.” He decides, his long digits slowly dragging up and down your side with his talons curled in so he doesn’t hurt you. “Just like you are.” He smiles. “Now we will have more to do than just read together in the library.”

You grin, kissing his chest as he curls around you, and you sigh, loving how good he’s made you feel. “I definitely want to do this again.” You hum and he chuckles, kissing your forehead, “I’ve created a monster.” You giggle at the wording and you yawn, suddenly exhausted by the way your body aches from the new movements. “Sleep.” Max orders, happy to hold you in his arms all night. You nod and snuggle into his side as he pulls the covers over you.

Max doesn’t sleep much, another effect of the curse. Instead he watches as you sleep, knowing that he has to tell you how he feels. Show you how he feels. He wants this curse to be broken so he can spend a real life with you. To take you to see the world and to experience how it has changed over the last one hundred years. You have talked of wanting to go on adventures and he will take you on them.

****

 The morning after, Max was very sweet, reluctantly letting you go so you could wash and change for breakfast. He sits and watches you eat your morning meal while he sips a cup of blood - a sight you’ve gotten used to. He offers you a bloody smile every so often that makes you giggle and he chuckles, loving to make you laugh. After breakfast, you go for a walk and Max tells you about the history of his home, how it spans back generations and how his parents taught him to manage the estate. “I was spoiled. Selfish. A blood sucking bastard. I didn’t deserve such a fine home and I know that is why I was cursed. I was horrible.” He admits and you rub his arm, “but you’ve learned and surely that gets you closer to breaking the curse.”

“Hopefully I am closer than ever before.” Max admits, pausing in the gardens to turn towards you. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs again, reaching out to cup your cheek and he is struck by the contrast between his taloned hand and your gentle human body. “Angel, I-“ there is a crash from around the hedges and Max instantly changes, fangs on display and growling protectively at any threat that might harm you.

You gasp as Max shoves you behind him and you peek around him, eyes wide as you see your brother. “Max. No. It’s - it’s my brother.” You pat Max on the back and he lets you step around him. Your brother rushes forward to hug you, pulling you close. “You’re okay.” He gasps, kissing your hair. “I’m better than okay.” You promise, “I’ve been treated like royalty.” You admit and your brother looks over at Max with raised eyebrows. “He - he’s a monster.” Your brother frowns and you shake your head, “he’s not.” Your brother sighs, “you need to come home. I - I will give back the coins. I cannot let you stay here with a monster. Not when father has returned. I think - he’s dying. He cannot walk and his speech is slurring.” Your brother confesses and you sigh, knowing your alcoholic father would come back one day to the cottage you called home.

Max scowls but he relaxes when he recognizes your brother, unhappy that the man is here and demanding that you leave. He sees the hesitation in your refusal and knows that you want to leave him. Despite how he has treated you, despite everything he has given you, you don’t love him. He should have known you could never love a monster.

You don’t want to leave but your father is dying. You must say goodbye to him and get his affairs in order. You turn to look at Max, knowing he is the one who decides if you leave or if you stay. “My father is dying. He’s not a good man but I must say goodbye for my own peace of mind.” You say to Max, hoping he lets you go do this. “I’ll come back.” You promise even though you doubt he will believe you.

His heart breaks, knowing that by the time you come back, it will be too late. The last petals of the rose will have fallen and the curse will be permanent. His heart shatters, but he arches a brow and ruffles his wings as if he is completely unaffected. “Leave.” He commands dismissively. “Do not bother to return. I have already gotten what I craved from you.” He lies cruelly, lashing out in his own hurt.

Your heart twists at the way his frown furrows and his expression hardens, his words piercing your heart that thumps for him. “You - you didn’t?” Your brother chokes and you stiffen your back, “it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” You demand and your brother wraps his around you to guide you through the gardens to his horse. Max watches until you disappear and he doesn’t see the tears on your cheeks as you walk away from the man you love.

A loud roar scatters the birds that had started to come around the castle again, sending them into the skies. Max uncurls his wings and shoots up into the air, desperate to hunt and drain the life of something to feed himself and rip it to shreds.

****

You return to your village and you enter the cottage to find your father in bed, his brow beaded with sweat and you know he’s dying. “Papa.” You call to him and kneel down beside him. “You’re here.” Your father smiles and reaches for your hand, “I’m here, papa.” You promise, a sad smile on your face.

“I am sorry.” He groans. “I was not the father I should have been. Losing your mother changed me.” He has had time to reflect on his mistakes and these are the ones he regret most bitterly. “Find love, my sweet daughter. Settle for nothing more than a man who would give you everything.”

You caress his cheek, knowing he could’ve been a better father but he let himself get lost in the ale after your mother died suddenly. “I have found love, papa. He’s everything I want. I love him.” You confess and your father squeezes your hand, “then go to him.” He urges, coughing moments later and you choke when his grip goes slack.

His last thoughts on this earth are of your mother; of the joy of knowing that you are loved and will be cared for. Your brother shuffles behind you. “You cannot return to that monster.” He hisses. “He let you go.”

You turn to your brother, your eyes watery and you shake your head, “he let me go because I- I needed to be here. I want to go back. He’s not a monster, he’s a good man.” You argue and your brother shakes his head, “he’s a beast. He will kill you.” You scoff, wiping your cheeks, “he made me feel protected and valued. He listened to me. Gave me whatever I wanted. I wish to return to him and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. I love you but I am in love with him.” You declare and your brother is shocked. He’s never heard you speak like this. “Then go.” He demands, waving at you, “go back to him.” You stand up, rushing to your brother to kiss his cheek before you run outside to your horse. You quickly saddle him and swing your leg over, your dress flowing out behind you as you make your way back to Max.

The bedroom is trashed, the bed splintered to pieces and the furniture destroyed. The only thing that remains untouched in the room is the table with the enchanted rose. The single petal hanging precariously on as Max sulks in the shadows. “Sir!” The door bursts open and Corbin hustles into the room. “We are under attack!” He cries, but even that does nothing to stir Max from his depression. “Let them come.” He grunts, turning away from the servant and staring out the window in the direction he had last seen you from.

You find out as you approach the castle that your brother had told every man who ventured into the tavern in the village that the castle in the forest was piled high in gold and silver and a monster resides there. You ride harder, desperate to get to Max and you see your landlord leading the charge into the castle. Gold and silver are carried away in the men’s hands as they pillage and you run through the castle after leaving your horse outside. “Max!” You yell, trying to find the man you love.

Max lets the men take what they want, the servants are down in the passageways under the castle, safe behind a trick door but he doesn’t leave his room. Not paying attention to anything, not even the door creaking open as he stares out the window still.

You rush through the castle, pushing past the men who are carrying whatever their pockets will handle. “Well, well, well. This is the beast her brother was crowing about. I have to say, you’re hardly a beast when you live in luxury. If I was you, I’d be fucking whatever I could and living it up.” The landlord, Louis, grins as he holds the gun in his hand, pointing it towards Max.

“Just take what you want and go.” Max barely cuts his eyes towards the man standing in his room. The gun isn’t a threat he is concerned about and he won’t fight the man. You are gone and he will be this way forever, so it doesn’t matter.

“It’s not gold that I want.” Louis declares, “you have something that’s more precious. Someone.” He says your name, “you stole her from me. I wanted her, asked her to marry me and the next thing I know her brother is screaming about a beast who has taken his sister. Then she returns and says the beast isn’t a beast. He’s a man and her eyes…she looks like she’s in love.” Louis scoffs, “you have what is mine. She will never be with me if you are alive.”

“She doesn’t love me.” Max snorts. “I am a beast. I sent her away.” He hates how he had just a glimmer of hope because of his words. “Do not make me kill you.” He warns. “I just want to be left in peace.”

“I cannot allow you to live. Not if she has a glimmer of hope to be with you. I shall kill you and I’ll console the poor girl. I did my research. I have wooden bullets.” He chuckles and Max growls, standing up to face the man, “I told you to leave me the fuck a-” He doesn’t finish his sentence as Louis fires the gun just as you rush across the room and push the man to the floor with all of your strength.

Max sees you, hears your scream right as the wooden bullet pierces his skin. Making him groan out and collapse to the floor, feeling physical pain for the first time since he had been cursed and feeling the blood in his body start to pool under him. He moans your name. “You came.”

Louis chuckles and you scramble off of him, rushing over to Max who chokes on his blood. “No no no no.” You cry, cupping his cheeks, “please don’t die. Please.” You beg, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Don’t go, Max.” You plead as his eyes flutter, more blood pooling beneath him and staining your skirts. He chokes and you can’t understand him, it’s more of a gurgle. “Please.” You whimper as his eyes close, “I love you. Please don’t go. I love you.” You sob, your hands cupping his cheeks and you don’t realize it but you cut your wrist on Louis’s knife when you pushed him down. Your blood trickles down your palm and onto Max’s cheek, trailing along to his mouth as you lean over him, crying for the loss of your love.

In the glass case, the last petal on the rose falls off and flutters to the bottom. The time is up.

Max goes still and his eyes close, silence falling over the room making your sobs sound even louder. Louis watches, believing that he has won and will be able to drag you away from the beast’s body. Not noticing the small flickers of light starting to dance around both you and the body. Not until a giant ball of light seems to glow out of the monster's chest and he starts to rise from the ground, making you gasp as you are pushed upright.

You watch Max rise into the air, the light engulfing him and you scramble back, eyes wide at the scene in front of you. You swallow harshly, tears on your cheeks and you wince when the light beams until it starts to fade and you see a man standing in the place where Max once stood. You frown, standing on shaky legs as you walk towards the man, his eyes now brown and soft, his hair dark and short but his features are familiar to you. “Max?” You choke, recognizing the beast who is now human.

It takes him a moment, staring down at his hands and then feeling his chest and face, feeling his hair before he chokes out a laugh and grabs your hands to say your name. “It’s me!” He laughs again. “You broke the curse! I- I’m me again.” Crushing you against him, he presses his lips to yours without the presence of fangs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning against his lips as you pull back to look at him, “it’s you. Oh my God.” You laugh, ridiculously happy for him to be alive and the curse of be broken. “Wait. How is - the curse? How is it broken?” You ask, brow furrowed.

Max shoots you a guilty look. “I had to drink your blood.” He frowns when he realizes that means you are injured and pulls back to examine your hands and tutting when he sees the cut.

You look down at the injury and you gasp, not even realizing you were cut. Louis growls, pissed off that his plan failed but as he raises his gun again, he is whacked over the head by Corbin with a metal tray. Louis falls to the floor but you pay him no mind. “Why didn’t you just ask me? I would’ve given you my blood if it meant your curse being broken.” You tut and Max sighs, “because it doesn’t work like that. It only works if you love me.” You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “The curse is broken. Did you not hear me say it? I love you, Max. I loved you as a beast and I love you as you are now. I don’t care about your looks, I love you. Who you are inside.” You promise, cupping his cheek.

“But you cannot tell me that I do not look better now.” He huffs, leaning in to kiss you again. His heart jolts in his chest and his eyes widen, gasping into the kiss. “My heart!” He grabs your hand and holds it over the wildly beating muscle. “This is all for you, Angel.”

“Your haircut is better.” You tease and he chuckles, his chest moving beneath your palm. You feel his heartbeat and you lean in to kiss him again, “mine is yours.” You promise and he nudges his nose against yours. The staff come rushing through the doors, excited cries of relief that their years of being frozen in time are over. “I knew she was the one.” Mrs. Smith proclaims and the others nod as Max caresses your cheek while he stares lovingly into your eyes.

“I love you.” He murmurs softly. “You saved me from my fate as the beast that no one could love.” His thumb strokes your cheek. “We will be married as soon as we can have the party.” He decides, grinning at you. “And we will live happily ever after.”

You nod, knowing you want to spend the rest of your life with him. “I love you.” You murmur, kissing him again as he pulls you close. 

**** 

“You may now kiss the bride!” The priest declares even though Max has already surged forward to press his lips to yours. The castle is decorated and the villagers are in attendance as well as the servants, all excited to witness Max and his bride be married. Max is soon sweeping you onto the dance floor and you grip his arms as he twirls you around. He is devastatingly handsome but he’s softer, not the bitter beast he was. He is happy and giving and kind even if he’s sarcastic at times. You adore him and you can’t wait to spend your life with him. 

“Are you ready for happily ever after?” You ask Max and he offers you a beautiful grin, “with you? I was ready from the night you broke into my house.” He smirks and you snort, “that was my brother.” You look over at your brother who is smiling and speaking with the maid who is blushing at his flirtations. “So you weren’t trying to steal, but you ended up stealing my heart.” He declares and you giggle softly, making him grin to have made you laugh. “And ended up taming the beast.” You counter and Max grins, oblivious to anyone but you. The beauty who tamed the beast and broke the vampiric curse of Max Phillips

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 10 - vulnerability

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, fluff central

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you and rafe had spent the whole afternoon together and it had been everything and more. just like he had promised the other week, he was showing you around LA and never leaving your side.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange as you walked along venice beach, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race.

"you know," rafe said with a smile, glancing over at you, "i’m glad we’re doing this. not just the tour thing, but... you and me, this."

his words hit differently now, sitting down on the beach to watch the gentle waves and the sky change colours.

you looked over at him, "me too," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned back, his playful energy still present, but a hint of seriousness took over him. "i've never done this before." he admitted.

"done what?" you asked him.

"caught feelings like this." he spoke softly, almost scared to say the words out loud.

you reached out to touch his cheek, "me neither rafe." you held his gaze, "there's still so much we have to learn about each other."

"i know, and that's what i'm scared of."

"why?" you questioned.

"i'm scared you won't like the version of me you uncover. i'm not good with my words but, i didn't used to be a good person. i was addicted to drugs, i bought girls home every night to fill a void, i was so unhappy and treated people so badly. but this," he stuck his hands out and pointed between the two of you, "i've never experienced this."

his truth taking you by surprise, but making your heart swell that he was opening up to you this way. "i'm not scared rafe. the rafe i know now is a good guy. i've never met someone like you and i want to know all parts of you even those that you think i won't like."

rafe let out a soft, almost shaky breath at your words. it was as if you had taken a weight off his shoulders without even realising it. his eyes softened, and the air between you two stilled for a moment.

his eyes didn't leave yours, no response was needed, but he pulled you in for a soft kiss full of emotion.

he pulled away to stare at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.

"i’ve been thinking about you a lot," he admitted, almost too quietly. "more than i thought i would. i know we’re still figuring things out, but i can’t help but want to be around you. want to be better because of you."

your heart fluttered at the honesty in his words, the vulnerability making you weak, all laid out in front you.

"rafe, you’re already better. you’ve made it this far and the fact that you're here with me, saying this stuff, shows me just how far you've come. you don’t have to prove anything."

his lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just smiled. without another word, he reached out, carefully taking your hand into his, the touch gentle, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after many hours had passed of gentle touches and soft conversation, you headed back to the hotel in time to join the others and pack before your flight back home tomorrow.

your chest was full of happiness, feeling ready for what was to come.

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a/n: why am i crying writing this they are so cute i hate them

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68

i will be taking people off taglist if that don't interact! just as more people want to be added and need to make it fair<3

[gold-onthe-inside]

pair programming - part ii

navigator

who? spencer reid (s3) x analyst!reader summary: what happens after your roommate and better half is shot on the doorstep of your building by her date. turns out, you're support network seems to have more nodes that you'd thought. content warnings: reference to guns + gunshot injury, surgery, blood word count: 2.1k a/n: realised after writing this that reader has more interactions with everyone on the team than she does with penelope oops

Spencer handed you a cup of tea, sitting down beside you in the hospital waiting room, the rest of the team milling around, waiting for news on Penelope’s surgery. You hadn’t said a word about what happened, the team relying on a police officer and a paramedic’s account while you sat there in catatonic shock, blood staining your white shirt, your hoodie doing more work in hiding it. You could still feel the blood on your hands, stained from pressing down on Penelope’s gunshot wound.

Spencer didn’t know what to do or say, just pressing the warm beverage into your hands, Emily and JJ murmuring in the corner.

“Has anyone told Morgan yet?”

“He isn’t answering the phone.”

“Is she?”

“Still in shock. Hasn’t said a word.”

“And Penelope?”

“All we know is a gunshot wound to the chest, and that they’re operating now.”

Spencer’s eyes are still on you, a shell of yourself, unable to reconcile the person he sees with the person he knows. He knows you deal with threats far greater than the ones they do — they’ve just come back from arresting a cannibal, you prevent military secrets getting out and uncover espionage attempts. But it’s from the safety of a digital interface, the day to day of it so mundane that it makes him want to pull his eyeballs out. Your job doesn’t get you shot. Technically, Penelope’s job shouldn’t have gotten her shot either.

No-one was paying attention to him, or to you, which is why he’s on his knees in front of you, aligning his gaze with yours, and does one of the few things he knows how to do; explaining. He put the tea down on the floor, taking hold of your hands, your eyes distant, your fingers cold. If he couldn’t do anything for Penelope, maybe there was something he could do for you.

“When the brain experiences trauma it has an affect on the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system.” He said the words quietly, a distraction technique to bring your focus to something, even if it was nothing. “The physiological response is a fight or flight response. When your brain is unable to process the situation, it freezes in an effort to protect your mind and body. You might feel numb, or cry, or rage. You might just sit there, emotionally unable to move. You might dissociate, and feel like nothing around you is real, or that it‘s actually happening to someone else.” He squeezed your hands, hoping for a response. It felt like you weren’t even there.

“I can’t imagine how scared you must be, and I’m not going to try and tell you that everything will be okay, because it may not-,” and he hated saying the words, they felt like a lie in his mouth, but it was the truth “-but whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.”

“I can’t lose her,” you whispered. Thank god, Spencer thought as he looked at you again, and while he knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make it all better, he also knew that the fact that you were finally verbal was probably a positive. You hadn’t said a word in hours.

“I know,” he said quietly. The team still milled around, waiting, the hospital buzzing with activity, but he felt like the words were just his and yours, the intimacy of the two of you cocooned away from the world.

"I don't..." You struggled to get the words out. "She's all I have." He watched as the tears welled in your eyes, watched as they fell down your cheeks. He wanted to reach out, to brush them away, and he hesitated, wondering what he possibly could do to comfort you.

Instead he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, a hug, and hoped that he wasn’t being too forward, and you crushed yourself against his chest, hugging him back. He ran a hand up and down your back as he held you to him, his cheek against the side of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he didn’t know if he was apologising for Penelope’s injuries, or the fact that he couldn’t save her, or that he hadn’t been there, or because there was nothing he could do to make it better. He was just sorry.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to background check this guy?” you asked, offering Penelope your eyeliner as she finished curling her hair and she rolled her eyes.

“God, you sound like Derek,” she retorted spitefully and you frowned. It was unlike her to be say his name with such anger, when it was usually said with love, fondness, occasional lust, and just in an overall dreamy fashion. A part of you had always wondered if there was more to their relationship than just platonic friendship.

“Alright,” you replied, letting it go. Penelope was a grown woman, she could make her own decisions… and was also equally capable of running a background check as, if not more, thorough as you would have. You tried not to look at the mess that your shared bathroom had turned into, make-up supplied and jewellery scattered over the counter, leaving her to do her thing. “And I better not get a text saying you’re bringing him upstairs,” you called out as you leave.

“This is just wrong,” you murmured, looking at Penelope’s pale, all but lifeless body, tubes running from her nose and arms, wires strapped to her chest, the suite silent but for the steady beep of the heart monitor. You still hadn’t moved from the foot of the bed, willing yourself not to cry. You were not going to be one of those family members who couldn’t get a grip of themselves. You especially refused to become a blubbering mess in front of her co-workers.

“I know,” Spencer said softly, wanting to take your hand again, but holding himself back. He still never knew where he stood with you. Hell, he didn’t know how to process what was going on for him — the only thing he knew he had to do was stabilise you, never mind himself.

You finally manage to put one step in front of the other, going towards Penelope and Spencer could see your hand shaking as you gingerly took hers, the way you blinked back tears, almost refusing to breathe because you were convinced the only thing that would come out would be a sob. Spencer swallowed, moving to draw the curtains over the windows, closing the doors so it was only the three of you in the room, and kept his back turned as you finally gave in to the squeezing grip your lungs had on your heart, sinking into the chair as you cried, gripping the hand that wouldn’t squeeze back.

You started awake when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently, and it’s Aaron standing over you. “Sorry,” you mustered, wiping away dried tear tracks and he simply pulled up a chair beside you.

“I know it’s been a long night,” he said softly, leaning on his knees, looking at you kindly. “But we need your help.” He watches you nod, taking in a deep breath.

“Anything,” you said, a lot calmer now.

“We need to get some kind of identification on this guy,” Aaron told you, his voice measured and even and a part of you was jealous you couldn’t be as calm as he was, and partly angry that he could be this calm with Penelope this way.

“She said his name was Colby,” you said, remembering the joke you had made when she told you.

“Like the cheese?” you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically and she scoffed.

“Do not ruin this for me,” she retorted, pointing her laptop charger at you like a wand. “He’s cute and he actually likes me. Do you even remember the last time I’ve been asked out?”

“That doesn’t mean you should go out with anyone who asks,” you replied. “I mean, what kind of person doesn’t turn on auto-save?” It earns you a glare from her and you quieten, turning back to your book.

You shook your head, trying to focus on your screen, set up right beside Penelope, refusing to leave her side even as she slept, and neither did Derek or Spencer, the former practically breathing down your neck. You glanced up at Spencer, a plea in your eyes to get him off your back, and he makes a pitiful attempt of asking Derek if he wants to go get a coffee with him, which he denies and so Spencer shrugged, so you let out a breath, focusing on what you were doing.

“There’s nothing on a James Colby Baylor,” you said, sounding tired, running a hand through your hair, then settling it back on your keyboard.

“If he knew Penelope was FBI, then maybe he used a pseudonym,” Spencer offered, his hands in his pockets, standing across from you. “Try using the same combination of letters, JCB.”

“I’m gonna need more parameters than just three letters,” you retorted, looking up at him.

“Check anyone who rented a white sedan in the last 24 hours,” Derek said, still leaning over you and you desperately wanted to hit the both of them. Repeatedly. Instead, you check car rentals across the city matching the description, matching the restaurant that they had gone to, adding your facial recognition program to look for blonde men with blue eyes. “Plus some kind of job in the justice department. Try law enforcement, former military, stuff like that,” Derek added. “He knew enough to use legal terms, but not enough to know city attorneys don’t try criminal cases. Law school dropout, failed the bar exam—”

“Jason Clark Battle,” you told him, pulling up the picture of him and you swallowed. That was him. The guy you’d seen run away from the front of your building after you heard the gunshot. Your hands curled into fists, oblivious to Derek calling Aaron about it, charging out the door. Spencer didn’t particularly want to leave either of you, but he muttered a quick, ‘Be right back’ before disappearing.

You handed Derek a mug of coffee while Penelope slept in her own bed, the door left open in case she needed either of them. He’s set up on your couch, a blanket and pillows, his gun set on the coffee table, a single light left on so he can read the file. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asked you and you shrugged, taking a seat on the corner of the coffee table.

“He shot her on the doorstep, Morgan,” you said quietly. “If I hadn’t been at home…”

Morgan placed his hand on your knee, warm and comforting, and even though you had made fun of him being here, calling him Penelope’s ‘guard dog’, deep down, you were glad he was here. “There’s a lot that went wrong that night,” he said smoothly, his voice low. “Don’t eat at yourself worrying about how it could have been worse.”

You huffed a little. “You mean like you’ve been doing?” you asked, looking at him pointedly and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You sure you aren’t a profiler?” he asked, noticing the slight hint of a smile on your face as you shrug.

“I guess we’re both wired the same way,” you said, instead of the retort you had lined up in your head. “Protecting the people we care about, blaming ourselves when they get hurt.” You glanced at Penelope’s room, her open door. “She’s all I have, Morgan.” And maybe it’s the late night, the anxiety coursing through your body, the thing that makes it impossible to sleep, that starts in your head and works its way to your chest, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “She’s everything. My emergency contact, my medical proxy… Hell, if I died tomorrow, everything I own goes to her. She’s my family. If I lose her, I have no-one.”

Derek lets a beat pass, watching you, and you can tell he knows something you don’t, because he said, “You have people. Even if you can’t see them.” You frowned a little as he went back to his file, clearly unwilling to say more, and you’ve never been one to push into personal space. Instead, you go back to your room, left with his cryptic words.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

HUSBAND IN HO SMUT PLEASE. SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF READER GETTING BRATTY AT AN IMPORTANT DINNER PARTY AND IN HO TAKES US HOME TO “TEACH A LESSON” 😩😩 (only if you are 100% comfortable with that request) I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW U ARE A GENIUS

AWWW THANK YOUUUUUUU

Also note: this song came to mind but I couldn’t find a better one than this one, IM SORRY GUYS. I TRIED HONOR LANA BC WHY NOT

Dinner Party

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📸

You and In Ho stood in the mirror, looking at yourselves as you got dressed and prepared to go out. Your gold dress matched his black suit and gold tie perfectly. Your wedding rings shiny and bright.

You smiled at his as he adjusted his tie. What a fine couple you were. Clothes so expensive a name isn’t on them. A dress made by Alexander McQueen himself and shoes designed to accompany them. In Ho’s outfit was a casually tailored piece by a man you’d never heard of. Handsome and expensive, just how you liked it.

“Darling” you say absently toying with the charms on your bracelet. “What time will the car be here?”

“In a minute, we should probably go downstairs” he said as he sprayed cologne on, you followed suit with the woman’s version. He gripped your hand as you walked down the stairs of your penthouse apartment in the middle of Seoul.

Time skip:

You sat bored at the table complete with men, and some women, one of which was hitting on your husband.

“Honey, is my ring big enough?” You say drably showing the woman. “He keeps saying the ring is too small for his wife, that I need a bigger diamond” In Ho cleared his throat.

“Yes honey, I’ll buy you a new ring tomorrow”

“no i want it now” you pout.

“(Y/n), I said tomorrow. Stop acting up” he said sharply. He looked at the woman who was now too embarrassed to talk. He put his eyes on the investor across from him. Beginning to talk about funding for the next set of games. You flagged a waiter,

“I’d like more wine please” you say. Moments later he returned, filling your glass until you ordered him to stop. You stood up, your eyes flying around you. Looking at the woman as she walked to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” He gripped your wrist. His eyes not leaving the investor as he spoke. Engaged in conversation.

“The restroom” you pull your arm away.

“Not with the glass of wine, don’t be rude.” He said. “It is impolite to carry a glass to the restroom”

“Ah no, Hwang, we don’t mind” one of the investors said, overhearing. “Besides, the drunker the better” he added with a wink. In Ho chuckled. You walked away quickly, to the restroom. You leaned haphazardly against the sink, glass of red wine in hand.

The woman exited the stall, pausing as she saw you.

“Oh excuse me” you say as you pushed past her. The wine threatening to spill over the rim of the glass.

You used the restroom and when you returned she was still there.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” You spit venomously. “I’m surprised you’re not out there flirting with my husband”

“Don’t act so spoiled” she returned coldly.

“How can I possibly act spoiled when I am spoiled? Do you not know how it works, honey?” You laugh lightly.

“A bigger ring, pfft. Your rings already the size of Korea” she scoffed. “Your dress is shabby, poor looking”

“Yes, says the woman dressed as Hilary Clinton from the 2016 American Presidential Debate” you throw your head back. She fumed at you heatedly, her eyes fierce. “You want to see how spoiled I really am? I’ll ruin my Alexander McQueen dress and watch how my husband reacts” you spilt wine, her eyes widening as she realized what you were going to do.

You screamed loudly, she darted out of the bathroom. You waited a moment before stomping out in your soiled dress. You walked straight behind her and dumped the remainder of your glass on her head. In Ho shot straight up to face you, your soiled dress burning his eyes.

He looked down at the woman, then back at you as your make up started to smudge as you faked tears. He fumed at you. His face screwed up in anger.

“I’m gonna have to take this one home” he spoke calmly. “Teach her a lesson. I’ll be back gentlemen” he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the penthouse.

“Put me down” you beat against his back.

“No.” He said sharply. “I am palm-achingly mad” a slap against your ass. “I cannot believe you. Acting that way in front of the investors, and that woman. Oh my god, (y/n), I swear you are the most bratty girl I have ever been around”

“I am a woman” you sassed.

“Not with the way you were acting” he made it to the doors of the penthouse building. Walking inside you held yourself up on his buttocks, waving to the doorman.

“Hi Tang-sho” you smiled. The doorman nodded as you got into the elevator. In Hi standing stiffly as you squirmed in his arms. “Can I get down?” You ask impatiently.

“No.” You finally reached the top floor, In Ho walked into the grand room. Setting you down in front of a mirror, “take off the dress. Get on all fours and face the mirror”

“But I-“

“Don’t want to hear it. You need to learn something and learn it now.” In Ho pulled his slacks to his ankles as you undid your dress, doing as he asked. A sharp palm came down against your ass. “You cannot behave that way”

You moaned loudly, arching your back at the delicious pain. Another slap on your ass.

“You cannot behave like that at an important dinner party” two more slaps in your ass, your cheek red, In Ho’s hand print forming.

“Yes daddy” you say as you sink down to your chest, further pushing your ass up to him. Your arousal as vividly dripping from your cunt as he slapped both of your cheeks, reddening them.

"Fuck you, (y/n)" he whispered in your ear. His anger and lust combined into one emotion, creating a whole new meaning to the word, fuck. He was mad and turned on.

"Do it then, In Ho" you whisper in his. He rammed into you. He pulled your hair as he roughly fucked you on the floor.

"Do you know, how hard I tried to keep myself together (y/n)?" He bit your neck. Your nails scratching down his biceps as he fucked you relentlessly.

"No" you moan.

"No?" He growls. "Being here, fucking you relentlessly when I should be at an important dinner isn't a clue?" He said working on leaving hickeys in your neck and chest.

You creaming as you tightened around him. Moans of pleasure getting louder as you neared your climax.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. You're close aren't you?" You nodded. "Tell me when you're about to. I want to hear you say it."

Your moans turned him on so much more.

"I'm coming" you say breathing heavily.

"What?"

"Fuck, In Ho, I'm coming"

"One more time." His grunted as he gave three rough pounds in between each word.

"Fuckkk In Ho! I'm coming, I'm coming" you began to tear up. He pulled out and flipped you so you were in missionary, so he could see your pretty face.

"No you're not" he growls as he hammers your pussy. The sound of balls slapping skin, and moans and grunts fillling the room.

"I'm sorry" you cry. "Daddy please let me come."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes" you scream.

"Then show me" he says letting go of your hips.

"Fuck me like this to show me you're sorry" you grinded your hips on his cock roughly but at a staggered pace. He could see your body spending and he decided to finish you off. Just the way you liked it.

"I'm sorry I fucked up my rhythm" he says in your ear. "I just wanted to see how gorgeous you look without watching your face through a mirror" he grabs your neck and thrusts into you . Your back arched off the tile, eyes red, and tears streaming down your face. You screamed as he roughly pounded you.

"Look at you" he said sweetly. "So pretty for daddy" your faced moved as he dogged your clenching pussy hole. "Sooo fucking beautiful"

"Fuck fuck fuck (y/n). Can I bust in there?" He groans as you begin to pull him to the edge. You nodded. "Can daddy cum in that tight pussy?" He asks again.

"Yes please, In Ho, please" you cry your core burned. You began to orgasm. He pulled your head up again.

"Let's cum together" he says as he began to cum, filling you up, you were soaking his dick with your juices, squirting around his dick.

"Good girl" he says as he fucked you till the end of his climax. Thrusts getting sloppy as he pulled out. He stood up, putting his cock back in his pants and zipping himself back up, he helped you to your feet. Leading you to the bathroom to fix your make up, grabbing you a spare gold dress from the closet with a new pair of shoes to match.

“Are you ready to behave yourself?” He asked.

“Yes daddy” you smile sweetly. Letting his help you get dressed again. Your pussy ruined from his cum inside of you.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @amandalol1414 @supersonika143

[dolcekissy]

i love your work, and I was hoping / wanted to request something based off a song, i dont kno if you have heard it, but i follow someone, jus heard it and it reminded me so so so much of Rafe and having a tumultuous and borderline abusive relationship. it’s by the singer ashanti called rain on me the music video and song remind me of rafe to a T. would yoube comfortable writing a Drabble or One Shot based or similar to it? if not, it’s okay, i know DV is serious and not everyone would want to write about it. thank you!

yes i've heard of the song and watched the video, i can definitely see what you're saying. hope you enjoy!

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes unprotected sex, p in v, domestic violence, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of having a miscarriage. please read at your own risk.

─────────────────────────

for the past four years it's been the same with rafe. arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you met rafe six years ago, immediately feeling drawn to him and his voice, the way he spoke with confidence but also nervousness, the eye contact he tried to keep with you, the way he wasn't touchy ─ very respectful of you and your boundaries. you remember the interaction like it was yesterday, the way your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink when he joked with you ─ meeting when you were both 16 at an event his father put together for Cameron Development.

the whole night you two were inseparable, laughing and talking, sneaking alcoholic drinks when no one was looking, stealing a cigarette from behind a drunk man's ear after he dared you to ─ giggling and running up to the roof of the building to smoke it together, coughing and choking while he laughed at you and patted your back. he kissed you when you were staring up at the sky claiming the cigarette gave you a buzz, your head was dizzy from both the cigarette and his lips ─ his lips were so soft.

you and rafe couldn't be apart. always with each other, at each others houses meeting family, sneaking out of your house just to see him even though you guys hung out all day, walking to the beach just to kiss, talk, laugh, staying until the sun kissed the water ─ hurriedly running back once your phone read 7 am. he was in love and so were you, you were his other half, his missing rib. he promised to marry you as soon as you both turned 18, get you a house in tannyhill, give you a baby right after. it was unrealistic but 16 year old you couldn't help but have hearts in her eyes.

he was your first everything. your first time, your first kiss, the first person you loved. the night he took your virginity you both were shaking, sweating, nervous ─ you felt so awkward, so stiff as you both tried to figure it out. he talked you through the pain, kissing you sweetly as he whispered apologies, shakily asking if you're okay or if he should stop, telling you how much he loves you ─ kissing the tears of pain that rolled down your face, moving the hair that stuck to your forehead.

obviously it wasn't the best sex, young and inexperienced, painful and scary, foreign and different but it was with him. with rafe. the person that made life worth living. the next two years were heaven on earth, the memories you created with him were sacred, every minute you spent with him giving you understanding of your purpose here on earth ─ marry him, give him as many babies as he wants, keep the house clean, be a good wife.

it was good, he was good, always knew how to kiss it better so you didn't question it when he slapped you after a disagreement ─ quickly apologizing and kissing your cheek over and over again as you blinked, brushing it off with a shrug and a smile, "it was an accident, right?" ─ fingers tugging on his hair as he ate you out that night to show you how sorry he was, later on stuffing you full of his cock so you understand how sorry he was.

that's when the cycle began, arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you hate yourself for not running when you were 18 and he slapped you for the first time, hate him for manipulating you into believing him, hate yourself for running down to the courthouse and getting married anyway ─ the longer you stayed with him, the worse it got. you'd argue about something stupid, he'd hit you, apologize, fuck you, then stay between your thighs until you begged him to stop.

you hate yourself for still loving him after it all ─ allowing him to make you feel like this, losing weight rapidly, your hair falling out in clumps, barely eating and drinking, depending on his mood to determine the kind of day you have ─ constantly terrified it'll get bad again, flinching every time the front door opens, greeting him with a weary smile, voice soft just in case he's in a bad mood today ─ just in case his attitude is sour enough to beat you and leave you for a few days, just to come home four days later smelling like another woman and fuck you slowly, "make love to ya.", "put a baby in ya." just so you understand how much he loves you, even if he "slaps you up." a couple of times.

it was suffocating, debilitating, humiliating but you loved him. no one would understand, no one would understand how much you miss the old him ─ they wouldn't understand that you stay with him just in case the old him might come back to you, love you as deeply as he loved you before. so yes, you'll hide the bruises and the cuts on your face and body. yes, you'll wear sunglasses to hide the black eyes. yes, you'll lie to the nurses when they ask why there's a gash on your wrist. yes, you will fucking lie and say that you lost your fucking baby due to complications and not him beating you.

yes, you'll show up no matter what to the Cameron Development events and show off the rock on your finger, flash a bright smile, place your arm over his chest while you look up at him with the same eyes he fell in love with. the same eyes that are freshly healed after his last beating.

the same eyes that will be black and blue again tonight because you were too close to a man over by the bar.

─────────────────────────

[seokminfilm]

longing to long for him ♫ lee seokmin

♫ pairing, lee seokmin x reader ♫ warnings, non-idol au, ceo au, husband seokmin, reader and seokmin have a baby girl, angst, hurt/no comfort, one allusion to being nude ♫ synopsis, you hate the feeling of being so close yet so far away.

♫ author's note, trying out a new layout! let me know your thoughts on it 🤍 been listening to same dream, same night, same mind by svt and suddenly had this urge to write something angsty with seokmin so here you go!! hurt no comfort too?? am i going insane?? (yes)

♫ now playing, same dream, same night, same mind, seventeen

♫ word count, 1.8k | for @kstrucknet

"welcome home, seokmin." your voice feels empty as you speak, but you bypass it, allowing your husband to bring you into his chest for a equally-empty hug.

being married to lee seokmin came with its ups and downs.

as the hardworking ceo of his own corporation, passed down to him by his grandfather, he always had a full, busy schedule. when seokmin wasn't busy in his office at home, he was on the road, driving from one meeting to another from sunrise to sunset.

as the youngest couple in the midst of seokmin's business partner circle, you were used to the so-called "advice" the older, married ladies would share with you at company dinner parties, as if it made the reality of your situation any better.

"there's no more time for love or play, now that mr. lee is climbing the ranks. you might as well get used to loveless nights, overdramatic reactions, and distant conversations. it happens to the best of us." one lady had said while stroking your back as if you were a miserable cat, and your skin boiled with anger, hoping that the lady would just drop dead.

the night you and seokmin had said "i do", he had laid down in your untouched hotel bed beside you, face and body still warm from the wedding's festivities. the sparkles in his eyes still haunt your memory to this day, and you could remember his sentence word for word, the feeling of his soft hand on your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

"no matter what happens from now until eternity, you'll always be on my mind."

that sentence was simple, but complex enough to make you teary eyed as seokmin hugged you, body engulfing yours as the sheets seemed to protect you from the harsh cold─the harsh cold being life without lee seokmin in it.

now, all you could feel was that cold.

"how's mihan?" seokmin's voice was tired, layers of disappointments and annoyance seeping into his words. his eyes were tired too, gaze harsh as he stripped himself of his shoes.

his styled hair was still flawless from this morning, and the sharp point of his nose was highlighted by the light shining down on him as he looked at his sleeping baby girl in your arms. she had your eyes and his nose, resting peacefully in her swaddle as you sighed, giving a small smile if only for her.

"she's doing okay. she's been sleeping all day." you say, and seokmin nods, sighing as he leans against the countertop. he stares up at the light, eyes unflinching as he shuts them tightly seconds later. the sigh that leaves his lips is felt, and your heart falls a little bit more, watching him bypass you without another word and disappear into your shared bedroom.

it hurts to see him leave without another kiss or tight hug like he used to do. as much as you wanted to ignore the warnings given to you in the early stage of your marriage, they were like bright stage lights, illuminating the things even you wanted to deny.

love used to be such an integral part of you and seokmin's marriage, and now, no matter how hard you looked or tried to pretend, you couldn't see it anymore. you couldn't remember the last time you or seokmin had said the phrase 'i love you' without sounding tired or empty, and it made your heart ache.

tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you walked to your bedroom, and mihan stirred in your arms, lips turning into a small smile as her tiny fingers clung to your shirt─the faded smiski tee seokmin had let you have the first time you had come home with him.

even he didn't recognize the shirt now. that, or he just didn't care anymore.

sitting on the bed after putting mihan to bed in her crib just a few steps away from you, you wipe the now freely falling tears from your eyes, wedding ring glinting on your finger as you chew at your lip, falling silent as the shower turns off in the bathroom.

soft piano lullabies play from your phone to calm down both you and mihan, and you sigh, turning away from the door as it opens to reveal seokmin's fresh face and toned figure, sweatpants thrown on around his waist as he scrubs his face dry.

your eyes meet for a second, taking each other in, and for a moment, it feels like old times again─the shyness you feel rising up in your body is just like when you saw seokmin nude for the first time, and it makes you turn away again, holding back fresh tears.

seokmin cleans up his mess, throwing his suit in the clothes hamper as he combs his fingers through his wet hair. his dark brown eyes seem to have more shadow under them, and he slowly makes his way to the bedside, crashing onto the sheets without a second thought.

silence goes through the room like a blaring siren, suffocating in nature as you look over to your husband. he's already fighting sleep, letting the silence and drip of the showerhead lull him to dreamland. his face is relaxed now, eyes half-lidded as he meets your gaze.

something lingers behind his eyes, but you don't know what, and before you can work up the courage to speak, he falls asleep, leaving you to long for him even more.

how long would you be longing to have lee seokmin back?

[pearlofthewoods]

I think there’s a lot of nuance to the whole discussion of what went down on the short-lived non-US tiktok.

Like yes, some of the takes were a little mean/in bad faith… but this here, this is something we ABSOLUTELY should be talking about.

Because perhaps, (through no fault of the Americans’ own) the discussion of regional UK representation just gets a little buried when the vast majority of tiktok-fandom is made up of Americans.

I’m not one to care about dialect mistakes or Americanisms in fics. At all. I’m just lucky I write for this fandom and I am British, so I largely don’t have to worry about this sort of thing. But I know that others do. And I know I’m privileged in that regard.

Because getting nitpicked for things that you have no cultural context for/way of understanding must be hell. No one deserves to have that done to their fic.

So in no way am I saying Americans or even people in the UK who live outside the Midlands are obliged to write Lily from the Midlands.

Write whatever you’re comfortable with writing. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do.

But that being said, I’m going to make an active effort to look for and uplift fics that centre Lily’s background and identity as a midlands-gal.

Because there’s so little representation for people outside of London/ the South in general in UK media and also unfortunately, in fanfiction. Particularly for the midlands.

I’ve been seeing more fics set in the North or in Wales or Scotland recently and I love it. I really want to see the same for others areas of the UK.

I personally don’t feel qualified right now to write that myself (not being a gal from the midlands), but I really wanna highlight fic writers who do write Midlands!Lily and are from the region themselves.

So if you know of any fics like this, or writers who include the Midlands in their work, drop them in the comments below!! Let’s give all areas of the UK the love they deserve.

Why do I have Americans on TikTok coming for my neck in the MASSES because I said that it's upsetting that I never see Lily Evans represented as a lower-middle class girl crowing up in the industrial midlands as an outsider to the majority of her close-knit VERY ENGLISH MIDLANDS-Y community

'You have representation everywhere' NO I DON'T

I CANNOT NAME A SINGLE OTHER CHARACTER LIKE THAT EVER

Her and Severus are the only characters I've EVER seen from my background, I'm allowed to be a little upset if I've never seen anybody else in the fandom explore or appreciate that. it wasn't even a personal attack on America, it was an observation

[onegayastronaut]

Heartbeat of Love

Requested by anon: Can you write Maya x Carina x reader where reader has some cardiac problems? Thank you so much!!!

Words: 1924

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was something you had grown used to. It had become a strange, unwelcome companion over the past few weeks, a reminder of the fragility of your own heart. But today, the beeping was drowned out by the sound of laughter and soft whispers, the warmth of love replacing the sterile loneliness of the hospital room.

Maya and Carina had taken it upon themselves to ensure that you never felt alone, not for a single moment. The two women had practically moved into your hospital room, setting up a mini-home with warm blankets, your favorite scented candles (which the nurses had begrudgingly allowed), and a playlist filled with songs that reminded them of you. They had turned an otherwise dreary hospital stay into something almost comforting.

“Amore, you should eat something,” Carina murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed, her fingers brushing the hair from your face.

Maya, ever the overachiever, immediately held up a spoonful of soup. “She’s right. You need your strength. Doctor’s orders.”

You huffed, looking at both of them with a tired smile. “Doctor’s orders? I think that only applies when it’s an actual doctor giving them.” You glanced pointedly at Maya.

Carina smirked. “Lucky for you, I am an actual doctor.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before giving Maya a teasing look. “But she’s very cute when she tries to play one.”

Maya pouted dramatically. “Excuse you, I am very medically knowledgeable. Firefighters have to be.”

You giggled, taking the spoon from Maya and sipping at the soup to appease them both. “I don’t doubt it, babe. But I also know you’re just looking for an excuse to boss me around.”

Maya smirked. “You know me so well.”

Carina let out a soft laugh and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, careful of the IV line in your arm. “And we both know that you are the most stubborn of us all, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”

It was true. You had resisted being admitted to the hospital for as long as possible, despite the growing concerns about your worsening symptoms. It wasn’t until one particularly bad episode—one that had left you dizzy, gasping, and clutching your chest—that Maya had scooped you up and driven you straight to the hospital. Carina had met you both there, already throwing on her attending badge and demanding the best care for you.

Now, a week into your stay, you were tired of the sterile walls, tired of the beeping machines, and most of all, tired of worrying them. You could see the exhaustion in their eyes, the way they never left your side for too long, the way they whispered worriedly when they thought you were asleep.

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with theirs. “I’m going to be okay,” you whispered. “I promise.”

Maya exhaled slowly, squeezing your hand. “You have no idea how much I want to believe that.”

Carina nodded, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We just… we need you to be okay, baby.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know. And I will be. Because I have you both.”

The three of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background as you simply existed together. Maya traced patterns along your arm, while Carina pressed light kisses along your temple. Their love was a tangible thing, a steady heartbeat in a world of uncertainty.

After a moment, Maya sat up straighter. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. Let’s do something fun.”

Carina raised an eyebrow. “Fun? In a hospital?”

Maya grinned. “Absolutely. I brought cards.”

You groaned. “Please don’t say Uno.”

Maya gasped in mock offense. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because you’re a menace when you play Uno,” you teased.

Carina laughed. “It’s true. She once made Jack cry during a game at the station.”

Maya shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Weak.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. But I swear, if you hit me with a Draw Four when I’m already dealing with a heart condition, I’m breaking up with you.”

Carina smirked. “Oh, I would pay to see that.”

Maya pouted dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You gave her an innocent smile, but before you could say anything else, Carina leaned in and whispered, “I’ll help you.”

Maya groaned as you and Carina burst into laughter, and for the first time in weeks, your heart felt light. No matter what lay ahead, you knew one thing for sure—you were surrounded by love, and that was the best medicine of all.

Returning home was a relief, but it also came with its own challenges. Maya and Carina were overly protective, hovering over you at every opportunity. If you so much as shifted on the couch, one of them was there, adjusting pillows or offering water.

“Babe, I love you both, but I’m not made of glass,” you huffed as Maya tucked a blanket around you for the third time that morning.

Maya crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “You had heart surgery two weeks ago. Humor me.”

Carina sighed, setting down a bowl of fresh fruit. “Maya, maybe we should let her breathe?”

Maya sighed but relented, sitting beside you. “Fine. But you have to promise to tell us if you feel even a little bit off.”

You smiled, leaning into her. “I promise.”

Carina sat on your other side, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And no trying to do too much too soon.”

Days passed with quiet moments of love—Maya carrying you to bed when exhaustion won, Carina massaging your back when the pain made sleep difficult, and both of them showering you in affection.

One night, as the three of you lay in bed, Maya traced circles on your wrist. “I was so scared,” she admitted softly. “When I saw you collapse, I thought—” She swallowed hard.

Carina squeezed her hand. “We both did.”

You kissed their hands, your voice steady. “But I’m here. Because of you two.”

Maya exhaled, then pulled you into her arms, Carina wrapping around both of you. “Forever,” she murmured as Carina leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

The following weeks were filled with slow healing, laughter, and the occasional frustration of being forced to rest. But through it all, Maya and Carina remained your anchor, making sure you never felt like a burden. From cozy movie nights to Carina cooking your favorite meals, their love surrounded you in every moment.

Maya had taken to being your self-appointed cheerleader, filling your days with lighthearted banter and dramatic reenactments of action movies just to see you laugh. Carina, on the other hand, had an almost supernatural ability to sense when you were overdoing it, her gentle but firm hands guiding you back to the couch with a warning glance.

One night, as you all cuddled on the couch, Carina looked at you with a mischievous grin. “When you’re better, we should take a trip. Just the three of us.”

Maya lit up. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere peaceful.”

You smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

The day finally arrived, and as you stepped off the plane, the warm embrace of the coastal breeze enveloped you. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was a melody that instantly soothed your soul. Maya stretched her arms above her head, taking in the view of the crystal-clear ocean while Carina adjusted her sunhat, her smile radiant.

“This is exactly what we needed,” Maya declared, looping an arm around your shoulders.

Carina nodded. “And exactly what you needed, amore.”

The small villa you had rented was perfect—a charming hideaway nestled between lush greenery and a private beach. The open-air patio provided the perfect view of the horizon, where the sun dipped into the water, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky.

The days unfolded in a blissful haze. Mornings were slow and easy, with Carina preparing fresh fruit and warm pastries while Maya brewed coffee. You would sit together, enjoying the serenity, letting the sun kiss your skin. Afternoons were spent exploring nearby markets, taking dips in the ocean, and lounging on the beach with a book in hand.

Maya was relentless in her attempts to teach you how to surf, her enthusiasm infectious even when you tumbled into the waves more times than you could count. Carina, ever the responsible one, made sure to remind you to take breaks, keeping an eye on your energy levels without ever making you feel fragile.

Evenings were your favorite—watching the sun set while Maya and Carina prepared dinner together, stealing kisses as they worked. The nights stretched long, filled with laughter, whispered conversations under the stars, and the comfort of being wrapped in their arms.

One night, as you sat by the fire, Carina leaned in and murmured, “You’re glowing, amore.”

Maya grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Told you this trip was a good idea.”

And as you listened to the ocean's gentle song, with the two people you loved most beside you, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have them—your anchor, your home, your heart.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of seagulls and the distant crashing of waves. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the sheets. You turned to find Maya still fast asleep, her arm draped over Carina, who was just beginning to stir.

Not wanting to wake them, you slipped out of bed and stepped outside onto the patio. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, a vast, calming expanse. The salty air filled your lungs, and for the first time in a long while, you felt whole.

Maya joined you moments later, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “I know that look. You’re thinking about something.”

You smiled, leaning back against her. “Just taking it all in. It feels like a dream.”

“Then let’s make it last as long as we can,” she said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

Carina appeared shortly after, a cup of coffee in hand. “Good morning.”

The rest of the trip continued in the same dreamy fashion. One afternoon, you rented a small boat and sailed along the coast, Maya at the helm, grinning like a child as she steered you through the glistening water. Carina pointed out hidden coves, and at one point, you all dove into the ocean, reveling in the cool embrace of the sea.

Another day, you stumbled upon a tiny, family-run restaurant tucked away from the usual tourist spots. The food was exquisite, and the owners welcomed you like old friends. Carina chatted animatedly with them in Italian, while Maya made it her mission to sample every dessert on the menu.

On the final night, the three of you took a walk along the beach, hand in hand. The stars shimmered above, the waves lapped at your feet, and for the first time in forever, you felt truly at peace.

Maya squeezed your hand. “I don’t want to go back.”

Carina sighed wistfully. “Neither do I.”

You smiled, squeezing both their hands. “Then let’s make a promise—we’ll do this again. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next month, but we will.”

And as the three of you stood there, wrapped in the magic of the moment, you knew it was a promise you’d all keep.

[nomstellations]

Important Announcement

After some deliberation, I've decided that I'm leaving this blog up as an archive for all my work and leaving the community for the foreseeable future. (If this place gets any kinder to people, any safer for those who remain in it, I'll think about coming back.)

As it stands I am no longer comfortable with being a part of the community, I feel unsafe and have no desire to write for this blog. Thank you to everyone who's stuck around with me over the years! Your support meant the world to me and it was why I stuck around for so long.

I'll check in on this blog periodically to check if I have messages or asks, so if you send something my way chances are I'll see it. I won't be posting writing or doing ask game stuff anymore, but if I find it important I'll answer some asks before the blog goes quiet tonight. I'll take the requests from my askbox I have and work on them on my own time- you can find me on my discord server (posted a ways down from this) where I'll post them, and I'm also on bluesky and ao3 under the same name. If you've got anything you wanna say...say it now.

Goodnight, voreblr. It's been real.

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups! 💕

Chapter three is here, and things are starting to take shape! I know, we’re still keeping a steady pace, but trust me—good things take time (at least that’s what I keep telling myself while writing this f-ing slow burn…🙈).

As always, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading, darlings! 😊✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, smut 18+, Auston x unknown female character, protected vaginal penetration

Word count: 6.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Three: Pucks, Plans, and Pretences*

::

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems our Ice King has traded his signature cool for something decidedly warmer. A newly surfaced photo from the depths of the Scotiabank Arena has set the internet alight, capturing Auston Matthews and his now-infamous Mystery Queen in a moment that could rival any story.

The city can’t stop talking.

But what’s the real story? Is this the beginning of something genuine or a strategic distraction for Toronto’s captain? Matthews, ever the enigma, isn’t saying much—but that smirk of his has done little to quell the rumours.

As for his Mystery Queen, she’s still just that—a mystery. Ambitious, poised, and undeniably captivating, she’s become the city’s obsession overnight.

Whether this is love, strategy, or something in between, Toronto is hooked. And with Matthews at the helm of this unfolding drama, one thing is certain: it’s going to be a season to remember.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Tuesday –

Sitting by the high table in the compact kitchen of your small studio flat, you traced the rim of your coffee mug absentmindedly. The faint hum of the city outside was a comforting white noise, a familiar backdrop to your mornings. But the fragile peace didn’t last long.

Your phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment. You groaned, setting down your mug to glance at the screen. Of course, it was Jess and Maya. The two of them had wasted no time diving into what was clearly the hot topic of the day.

Jess (7:13 AM): “Spotted: You and Auston. AGAIN. Girl, explain.”

Maya (7:15 AM): “We need a FULL breakdown. Coffee tonight. No excuses!”

You sighed, gripping the warm mug a little tighter as you composed a response. Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating.

You (7:18 AM): “There’s really nothing to explain.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Maya (7:19 AM): “Oh, please. You’re trending AGAIN. #MysteryQueen is still going strong. Spill.”

Jess (7:20 AM): “You can’t brush this off. Coffee tonight after work, our usual spot. Don’t make me come to your place.”

You let out a soft laugh despite the tension knotting in your chest. Jess and Maya were relentless, but their concern came from a good place. They were your best friends—your constants in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

Still, the guilt nagged at you. They were cheering for you, defending you, believing you were swept up in some whirlwind romance. And here you were, dodging their excitement with half-truths and carefully constructed vagueness.

You (7:22 AM): “Fine. Coffee tonight. But it’s really not as exciting as you think, ladies.”

Jess (7:23 AM): “We’ll be the judges of that.”

Maya (7:24 AM): “Don’t forget the juicy details. We need to know EVERYTHING.”

You set your phone down with a heavy sigh, your appetite fading as stress settled over you like an unwelcome houseguest. It wasn’t just the messages. It was the weight of everything that had piled up over the past few days.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, watching the liquid swirl. The events of the gala played on a loop in your mind, every moment amplified now that the media had latched onto you. And then there was Auston.

Had you really agreed to fake-date Auston Matthews, the Ice King himself? The words “Let’s do it” echoed in your mind, making you wince. What had possessed you?

You knew the answer: desperation.

Auston’s reasons were crystal clear. He wanted control over the narrative. He needed a way to silence the incessant speculation about his personal life. His pitch had been logical, almost clinical. And you, standing at the crossroads of your career, had agreed.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. If his biggest problem is dodging rumours about his love life, he’s got it easy.

Your problems felt heavier. Tangible. Your boss’s voice rang in your ears, his warnings cutting through your thoughts: “No distractions. No drama. No more headlines.” The gala had already pushed you to the edge of his patience. And now? Now you were willingly diving into a situation that could unravel everything you’d worked for.

But wasn’t this what you wanted? A chance to make your mark, to prove you weren’t just another cog in the machine? Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing you a lifeline—wrapped in chaos, sure, but a lifeline, nonetheless.

Or maybe you were just grasping at straws.

You sighed, pushing your barely touched breakfast aside. The decision had been made. There was no turning back now. Auston had given you an option, and you’d taken it.

Your to-do list for the day felt overwhelming. Face your boss. Navigate the fallout. And later, coffee with Jess and Maya. They’d want answers—real ones, not the half-hearted deflections you’d been giving them.

You weren’t sure how much you could—or should—tell them. But one thing was certain: you needed to pull yourself together. Time was ticking, and the last thing you could afford was to let it all spiral out of control.

_

Auston Matthews awoke with nothing but a grin on his face. The kind of grin that wasn’t about a win or a goal, but about the sheer satisfaction of knowing he’d set the board perfectly for the game ahead. Sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, casting warm, golden rays across the room. Felix, his Australien Bernedoodle, was already wagging his tail eagerly, sensing that his human was in a particularly good mood.

“Alright, Snuff” Auston muttered, stretching as he reached for the dog’s leash. “Let’s go.”

The grin stayed fixed on his face as he walked Felix through the quiet morning streets of Toronto, hidden just slightly under the brim of his cap. The rhythm of his steps matched the upbeat hum in his chest. Felix trotted ahead, pausing every so often to sniff a tree or a fire hydrant. Auston’s thoughts, however, were far from their usual pre-game routine.

You’d said yes. The moment replayed in his mind, not because he doubted it had happened, but because of the satisfying sense of control it gave him. You had agreed to his plan. Fake dating. It was genius, really. It ticked every box: no questions about his personal life, no endless media speculation about who he was seeing, and the cherry on top—it made him unavailable. Off the market. And if anything, it made him even more unattainable.

Felix barked once, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Alright, alright,” Auston chuckled, tugging the leash gently to keep his dog moving. “Don’t get too excited.”

Back at home, Felix flopped onto his dog bed with a satisfied huff while Auston grabbed his duffel bag and packed for the day. The grin still hadn’t faded. Tonight was a game night, and he had an away trip to Columbus. Normally, his thoughts would already be on the ice, visualising plays, but today his mind kept drifting back to you and the whirlwind of events from the past few days.

Auston wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the media worked. They’d dissect every glance, every move, every word exchanged between the two of you. That was the world he lived in—a world of scrutiny, where even his most mundane actions were twisted into headlines. And yet, for once, he didn’t mind. You weren’t like the others who had flitted through his orbit.

Most women in this position would’ve jumped at the chance to bask in the glow of his fame. But you? You seemed determined to avoid it entirely, almost as if the spotlight burned too bright for your liking. That was refreshing. It intrigued him. And maybe—just maybe—it was part of why this plan felt so right.

He paused mid-pack, considering for a moment if he should bring his PR manager into the loop. Ultimately, he decided against it. The man hadn’t even batted an eye at the first photo. For someone like Auston, these kinds of headlines were par for the course. A fake relationship wouldn’t even register as a blip on his radar. And besides, Auston didn’t want anyone meddling. This was his game, and he intended to play it his way.

His teammates? They didn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. They’d complicate things with relentless teasing, and Auston wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mitch Marner’s inevitable barrage of questions. And his family? Absolutely not. All they needed to know was that he wasn’t available. End of story.

The airport was bustling with the usual pre-travel chaos. Players joked and jostled each other, tossing bags into overhead bins and making playful bets about who would score the first goal of the night. Auston moved through the commotion with his usual calm, but the grin remained—a subtle, smug reminder to himself that he had everything under control.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice rang out as he flopped into the seat beside Auston. “What’s with the face? You win the lottery or something?”

Auston smirked, adjusting his noise-cancelling headphones. “Something like that.”

Mitch squinted at him suspiciously. “This have anything to do with the latest post? You know, the one that’s got X losing its mind?”

“Don’t start, Marner,” Auston replied, his voice even but amused.

“Oh, I’m starting,” Mitch said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, man. Spill. Who is she? I mean we know what she works with, but… She’s not another one of those random girls you keep fucking, is she?”

Auston sighed, pulling one side of his headphones down. “She’s just someone I’m getting to know. Relax.”

“Someone you’re getting to know?” Mitch echoed, his grin widening. “That’s all we get? Not even a compliment about her ass?”

“Drop it,” Auston said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Across the aisle, William piped up. “If she’s just someone you’re getting to know, why’s she all over your social media? You’re usually better at keeping things under wraps.”

Auston shrugged, playing it cool. “She’s not all over my social media. That’s the media doing what they do.”

But Mitch wasn’t about to let it go. “You don’t talk about the other girls, but you’re dodging questions about her? That’s new.”

Auston shot him a look. “Maybe because it’s none of your business, Mitchy.”

The banter continued as the plane took off, Mitch throwing playful jabs from across the aisle and William chiming in with his usual teasing smirk. Auston brushed it off with ease, keeping his replies curt and nonchalant. But their questions lingered in his mind, nagging at the edges of his thoughts like a loose thread.

If his teammates were already this curious, what would happen when the media started digging deeper? And they would dig deeper. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. They’d dissect every detail, every inconsistency, every crack in the story. That’s when it hit him—he didn’t know enough about you. Not the kind of things that would make a fabricated relationship believable, at least.

Your favourite coffee order. Your go-to excuse for leaving a party early. The kind of music you liked to blast when no one else was around.

He needed to know something—anything—that could make this story feel authentic. His teammates might have been satisfied with the vague details he’d given them for now, but they nor the media wouldn’t let it slide. This had to look real. And for it to look real, he had to be able to talk about you like he’d known you for longer than a fleeting gala moment.

Auston leaned back in his seat, letting out a small breath. The team’s chatter faded into the background as he turned his focus inward. He’d have to talk to you, but it couldn’t feel forced. It had to be casual, natural. Just enough to set things straight and make sure the narrative stayed intact.

Satisfied with the plan forming in his mind, Auston allowed himself to relax, the familiar hum of the plane’s engines lulling him into a moment of calm. He adjusted his noise-cancelling headphones and gazed out the window as the city faded into the distance. The grin he’d worn all morning crept back onto his face, a mixture of confidence and anticipation.

This was going to work. It had to.

You might not realise it yet, but Auston Matthews had chosen you for a reason. You weren’t just a pawn in his game. You were the perfect partner in crime for the plan he was about to execute.

_

As you walked into the office, you held your chin high, shoulders back, just like Jess always encouraged during your frantic late-night phone calls. Her voice still echoed in your head: “Own it. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat.” Easier said than done.

Your heels clicked against the polished floor with a rhythm that you hoped exuded confidence. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the charade pressing against your chest. The office buzzed with its usual energy—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, snippets of conversations floating through the air. But today, the atmosphere seemed to hum with something sharper, something just shy of gossip. Again, you didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were about you.

You felt their eyes on you as you passed, a few heads turning slightly as you walked by. It was subtle—an extra glance, a barely concealed smirk, a phone quickly tucked away as if you’d interrupted someone mid-scroll through the latest viral photos. You’d expected this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your phone vibrated in your bag, but you ignored it. No doubt Jess or Maya was checking in to remind you of your coffee date later. Or worse, your boss with a sharp-edged “we need to talk.” Neither option felt appealing.

By the time you reached your desk, the tension in your chest had settled into a dull ache. You sat down, carefully placing your bag at your feet, and took a steadying breath. The screen of your laptop glowed to life as you opened it, the familiar sight of your inbox providing a small sense of normalcy.

But even as you sifted through emails, your thoughts kept circling back to the lie you were living. You felt bad for keeping Jess and Maya in the dark. They were your best friends, your ride-or-die crew, the people who’d been there for you through every triumph and heartbreak. But you couldn’t risk telling them the truth.

What would happen if anyone found out? The question lingered in your mind like a persistent shadow. Even the smallest crack in the story you and Auston would be concocting could lead to an avalanche. If word got back to your boss that this wasn’t just an accidental photo op but a deliberate ruse? You didn’t even want to imagine the fallout.

So, you kept your cards close to your chest, smiling politely when a co-worker passed by, nodding along to the faint hum of office chatter. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jess and Maya—it was that you didn't want to burden them with this. The stakes were too high. Or maybe, just maybe, you felt a bit embarrassed about having agreed to it? 

For now, your best move was to stick to the plan: keep your head down, stay professional, and pray the whirlwind around you would eventually settle.

But as the day stretched on and the whispers persisted, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope with no safety net.

During the workday, you did your best to stay under the radar, skirting through the office with a practiced air of nonchalance. Your strategy was simple: avoid your boss at all costs. Fortunately, his schedule was jam-packed with back-to-back meetings, giving you a much-needed buffer.

Still, you weren’t entirely off the hook. You’d barely rounded the corner when he appeared, laptop in hand, his expression sharp and unreadable.

“Y/N,” he called out, his tone clipped.

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your face neutral. “Good day, Mr. Manion.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yes, well. Care to explain why half the office is suddenly fixated on some hockey romance conspiracy theories? Or why your face seems to be at the centre of it, again?”

You swallowed hard, scrambling for a response that sounded calm and collected. “Just media being media,” you said lightly, forcing a small shrug. “They’re spinning something out of nothing. It’ll die down soon enough.”

Manion stared at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to dissect the truth. “It better. We’ll discuss this later. My office, tomorrow morning. Or… when I have time for this mess.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you with the sinking feeling that you’d just delayed the inevitable.

The rest of the day dragged on in a blur of emails and half-hearted attempts at productivity. No matter how much you tried to focus, the looming conversation with your boss weighed heavily on your mind.

By the time the clock struck five, you were almost relieved to escape the office and head to the coffee shop where Jess and Maya were waiting.

The café was warm and bustling, the scent of freshly brewed espresso mingling with the faint sweetness of baked goods. Jess and Maya were already seated in the corner, their expressions a mix of curiosity and impatience as they spotted you walking in.

“Well, well,” Maya teased, her grin widening as you slid into the chair opposite her. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Jess smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Y/N. Spill. Now.”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the mug the barista had just placed in front of you. “Please, calm down. It’s not as exciting as you think. I promise.”

“Bullshit,” Jess said bluntly. “You’re trending. You don’t just get to brush this off.”

Maya leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on. We’re your best friends. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell?”

There it was—the guilt. It crept into your chest like a cold weight, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to stick to the story.

“We met at the gala,” you began, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “He was… well, exactly how you’d expect. Arrogant, cocky, a total smartass.”

Jess arched a brow. “So, what? He just walked up to you and swept you off your feet?”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Not exactly. I sort of… tripped, and he caught me. It was all very cliché.”

Maya gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Like something out of a movie! I knew it!”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said quickly, laughing nervously. “He was just being polite. Honestly, I thought he’d forget about me the second I walked away.”

Jess tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “But he didn’t.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment. “No, he didn’t. He’s been… persistent. But it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s not really my type.”

Maya’s jaw dropped. “Not your type? Are you serious? He’s Auston Matthews. Literal perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t exactly charming when it comes with an ego the size of the CN Tower,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Jess.

“Fair,” she said, smirking. “But don’t pretend you’re immune. Something about him must’ve worked if he’s got you responding.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the media doing what it does best—blowing things out of proportion.”

Maya studied you for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Jess leaned forward, her grin devilish. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

The conversation continued, a whirlwind of teasing and speculation, but you managed to hold your ground, weaving just enough truth into your story to keep them from digging deeper. By the time you left the café, your nerves were frayed, but at least you’d survived the first round of questions.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.

_

The training rink in Columbus carried the usual buzz of pre-game preparation: the slap of pucks against the boards, the hum of skates carving into the ice, and the low murmur of coaches directing drills. But something about the energy felt off. Auston could sense it in the way passes missed by inches and shots rang off the crossbar instead of finding the back of the net.

The Leafs were coming off a high, but the weight of expectations clung to the team like an anchor. By the time practice wrapped up, the locker room was filled with subdued chatter, players trying to shake off the tension as they prepared for the night’s game.

Auston, ever the focal point, felt the weight more than most. Captaincy wasn’t just about leading on the ice—it was about carrying the team’s hopes and shielding them from criticism when things went sideways. And tonight, things went very sideways.

The game was a mess from start to finish. Columbus exploited every crack in the Leafs’ defence, while Toronto’s offense sputtered, unable to capitalise on power plays or momentum. Auston had his moments—a slick assist here, a near-miss there—but it wasn’t enough. By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told the story: a 4-1 loss.

Auston’s jaw tightened as he skated off the ice, his grip on his stick like a vice. The locker room was eerily quiet post-game, the usual camaraderie replaced with a heavy silence. Players peeled off their gear in near silence, a few murmuring frustrations under their breath. Auston exchanged a few words with the coaches, but the sting of defeat lingered long after he left the rink.

Back at the hotel, the air in Auston’s room felt heavy—thick with the weight of the night’s loss and the expectations that always seemed to grow louder in defeat. He sat on the edge of the bed, his duffel bag still untouched by the door, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

Down the hall, his teammates were decompressing in their own ways—some glued to their gaming consoles, others nursing quiet drinks in the lounge—but none of those options appealed to him. Auston’s frustration needed a different outlet.

Without much thought, he opened his DMs, the endless flood of messages a familiar distraction. His name was a magnet, his inbox teeming with invitations, compliments, and the occasional overly bold proposition. One message caught his eye—a familiar face from Columbus. They’d met on a previous trip, a fleeting encounter that left no lasting impression, which was exactly what he needed now.

Auston: “In town for the night. What’s up?”

Her: “Still waiting for you to call. Thought you forgot about me ;)”

Auston: “Never.”

The exchange was simple, transactional, and within the hour, she was knocking on his door.

Auston opened it, leaning casually against the frame. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. She smiled up at him, dressed to impress—or undress. As always, no pleasantries were exchanged; none were necessary. She stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the outside world.

It was exactly what Auston needed—a reprieve from the relentless noise in his head. She was eager, uncomplicated, and predictable, offering a distraction that required nothing from him emotionally. He let himself sink into the physicality of it, her hands trailing across his chest as she whispered something flirtatious. But her words barely registered. His thoughts were elsewhere.

They were on the ice, replaying the game in relentless detail: the missed chances, the failed plays, the sting of another loss. They drifted to the media frenzy surrounding his so-called “Mystery Queen” and the elaborate charade he was now orchestrating with you. No matter how much he tried to focus on the present, the weight of everything he was juggling refused to let go.

Still, he allowed her to take the lead, lying back as she straddled him with practiced confidence. The friction, the heat, the rhythm—it was enough to stoke his hardening member. She felt good, but it was a fleeting, surface-level pleasure. The connection was purely physical, and Auston was fine with that.

Her fingers dug into his chest, as she rode him expertly. Auston felt his climax slowly building, her tight cunt wrapped so neatly around his throbbing cock. He didn’t need more than this. Shutting his eyes he could imagine her to be anyone he’d like. His mind wandered as he heard himself let out a moan. She was good to him, picking up her pace as she too chased her own high. 

Her moans filled the room, crescendoing as she announced her climax with exaggerated fervour. Auston stayed silent, his body tense beneath her, waiting for the moment to pass. And when she slumped forward, her chest rising and falling against his, he decided to take control in order to reach the rush. 

Flipping her onto her back, he moved with renewed intensity, chasing his own release. His hips slammed against hers in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. His fingers clenched the sheets as he gave up holding back. He was merciless. Ruthless. Her cries of his name echoed in his ears, a mantra that boosted his ego but did little to penetrate the hollow space inside him.

And when his climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing through him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His low, guttural grunt filled the air as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they finally stopped.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. She brushed her fingers through his hair, her touch lingering as though she hoped it might spark something deeper. But Auston rolled away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The message was clear, though unspoken.

So, within minutes, she was dressed, smoothing her hair and offering a coy smile as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you around,” she said lightly, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Auston replied, his tone indifferent as he closed the door behind her. The lock clicked, and just like that, she was gone.

He sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the hollow feeling settled in—a familiar, unwelcome companion. The release had been satisfying enough, but it hadn’t erased the gnawing frustration or the pressure weighing on his shoulders. It never did.

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen. Notifications flooded in: highlights from the game, speculative articles dissecting the team’s loss, and the ever-present hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

A small, wry smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. The plan was working, and that was something. For all the chaos, for all the noise, the narrative was moving exactly as he’d intended. Now all he had to do was keep it that way.

He set his phone back on the nightstand and let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. Tomorrow, he’d regroup. Tomorrow, he’d strategise with you, fine-tune the story you were selling. For tonight, survival was enough.

As exhaustion finally crept in, Auston closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to you once more. You weren’t like the others—too smart, too grounded to fall for someone like him. That was part of the appeal, he realised. You weren’t here for him, not really. And maybe that made you the most intriguing person he’d met in a long time.

But that was a problem for another day. Tonight, all that mattered was that the noise had faded, if only for a moment.

_

“Oh, Toronto, isn’t it fascinating how our beloved Ice King chooses to thaw? While the Leafs are licking their wounds after a tough night in Columbus, it seems Auston Matthews is sticking to his tried-and-true method of post-game ‘recovery.’ Word on the street—or rather, whispers through the grapevine—suggests that our captain might not be as unavailable as the Mystery Queen narrative wants us to believe. Curious, isn’t it?

But here’s the thing, dear readers—there’s always more beneath the surface. Matthews might play the media like a maestro, but even the best orchestrations can hit a sour note. Will the cracks start to show? Or will our Ice King’s dual life—both on and off the rink—continue to skate by unscathed?

As for his Mystery Queen? One has to wonder how she fits into this symphony of appearances. Is she just another carefully placed pawn in Auston’s game, or is there something more stirring beneath the headlines?

For now, Toronto, we’re left with a tantalising mix of speculation and intrigue. The season is still young, and the drama is only just beginning. - The Benchwarmer”

_

Wednesday - 

Auston tried to enjoy the breakfast with his teammates. A hotel was a part of their routines, yet it never truly felt like home. His phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications, but one headline in particular caught his eye: “The Ice King’s Double Life? Drama Heats Up Around Toronto’s Star Captain and His #MysteryQueen.”

Auston clicked the link and was greeted by The Benchwarmer’s latest post. The commentary was sharp, hinting at cracks in his narrative and questioning whether the supposed romance with you was genuine—or just another fleeting distraction. The subtext was clear: his actions in Columbus hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He let out a groan, running a hand down his face. Reckless, Matthews. Really reckless. Sure, the plan with you was still in its infancy, but if this was going to work, it needed direction—intent. Otherwise, it would just look like every other shallow story he’d been a part of.

He needed to fix this. Fast.

Grabbing his phone, Auston scrolled to your contact—“PR Genius”—and fired off a quick text.

Auston: “Coffee today? We need to strategize.”

You: “Agreed. When and where?”

Auston: “3 PM. A café on Yonge. I’ll message the address later. Bring your game face.”

As the message was sent, Auston stared at the screen for a moment longer. This wasn’t just about keeping the media at bay—it was about keeping you on his side. If this plan unravelled, it would take both of you down with it.

_

A bit further North, your morning was no less chaotic than Auston’s. Jess, ever the early riser, was already on fire by the time your phone buzzed with the first notification.

Jess (7:15 AM): “HOW DARE HE???”

Maya (7:16 AM): “Is he seriously doing this to you? I’m ready to slash some tires.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, even as you groaned at their intensity. To them, it was a betrayal of epic proportions. To you, it was just another complication in the tangled web of your arrangement with Auston. But how could they know that? All they saw was a man seemingly toying with your feelings, and as your best friends, they were ready to go to war on your behalf.

You (7:18 AM): “Guys, relax. It’s not like we’re official or anything.”

Maya (7:19 AM): “Not official?! You’re trending as #MysteryQueen, Y/N! That’s practically a royal engagement!”

Jess (7:20 AM): “I swear, if he breaks your heart… bad things will happen!”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at their over-the-top reactions. It was sweet how protective they were, but you couldn’t let them spiral into full-blown outrage.

You (7:22 AM): “Look, it’s still early. He can do whatever he wants—we haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

The group chat fell silent for a moment, long enough for you to think maybe they’d finally let it go. But Jess’s response proved otherwise.

Jess (7:30 AM): “Fine. But he better get his shit together, or I’m hunting him down.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, setting your phone down as you leaned back in your chair with a sigh. Jess and Maya were reacting the way anyone would if they thought their friend was being strung along. You couldn’t exactly blame them for jumping to conclusions—it wasn’t like they knew the truth.

Still, it left you with a heavy feeling you couldn’t quite shake. Sure, you weren’t dating Auston—not really. But even you couldn’t ignore how bad it looked. His actions might not have stung personally, but they made everything feel messier, more complicated. You were suddenly questioning whether this whole arrangement was as foolproof as he’d made it seem.

You stared into your half-empty coffee mug, the quiet of your kitchen contrasting sharply with the chaos in your head. By now, the plan you and Auston had agreed on felt more like a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest push.

The afternoon coffee with him couldn’t come soon enough. If this ridiculous plan was going to work, you needed to lay everything out on the table and get on the same page—and fast.

_

The coffee shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon when you arrived, your workday still clinging to you in the form of a slight tension in your shoulders. You pushed open the door, letting the comforting aroma of roasted beans and the soft murmur of conversation wash over you. The café was the perfect midpoint between your home and Auston’s—a cosy, unassuming spot where you could blend in without drawing too much attention.

You spotted him immediately, leaning casually against the counter, waiting for his order. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Felix, his ever-loyal best friend, sat patiently by his side, drawing a few admiring glances from other patrons. Auston, as always, looked like he belonged anywhere and nowhere at once, exuding an ease that made people take notice without realising they were doing so.

Auston caught sight of you as the barista handed him his drink. He gave you a quick nod, that trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted as you approached. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you replied, offering a small smile as you ordered your coffee.

As Auston watched you at the counter, his gaze lingered longer than he’d intended. You were dressed in your workday attire—professional yet effortless, like you hadn’t spent a second longer than necessary pulling yourself together. But it was the way you carried yourself that intrigued him. Even with the slight tension in your shoulders, there was a quiet determination in your movements, a resilience that he couldn’t help but notice.

Once you had your drinks, you stepped outside, where Felix immediately perked up, tail wagging enthusiastically. “He’s got more energy than I do,” you said, watching the dog sniff at a nearby patch of grass.

“Good thing he burns it off fast,” Auston replied, handing you Felix’s leash with an easy confidence that caught you off guard. “Here, you take him for a bit.”

“Me?” You stared at the leash, then at Felix, who was now looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Yeah, you,” Auston said, his grin widening. “It’s not that hard. Just don’t let him drag you into traffic.”

You rolled your eyes but took the leash, letting Felix lead the way as the three of you started down the quiet street. Auston glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, amused by the way you held the leash like it might bite you. Despite your initial awkwardness, he had a feeling Felix would win you over in no time.

“You’re stiff,” Auston said after a few moments, his tone casual but observant. “Relax. It’s just a walk.”

“It’s not just a walk,” you muttered, glancing around. “There are probably a dozen people ready to take a picture right now.”

“And what if there are?” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

You huffed but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the weight of being “seen” felt heavier than you’d anticipated.

“You’re overthinking it,” Auston said after a moment. “We’re just two people, walking a dog. Act like it.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, but the edge in your voice made him smirk.

“Try harder,” he teased.

As Felix tugged you toward a nearby lamppost, Auston found himself studying you again. You didn’t fit the mold of the people who usually surrounded him. There was no pretense, no calculated charm. You were genuine—maybe to a fault, given how uncomfortable you seemed in the spotlight. He found it oddly refreshing.

“He’s really into this whole sniffing thing,” you said, changing the subject as Felix investigated another patch of grass.

“He’s thorough,” Auston said with a chuckle. “Doesn’t miss a single blade of grass.”

The light banter helped ease the awkwardness, and soon, the conversation shifted to more neutral topics. He asked about your day, and to his surprise, you opened up with a candid rundown of your work. You asked him about his travel schedule and the demands of his career, your questions more thoughtful than the usual superficial ones he was used to. And for the first time in a while, he felt like someone was genuinely interested in him, not the player or the famous persona.

“You’re used to it, though, right?” you asked. “The attention?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It comes with the job. You get good at tuning it out.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

He caught it anyway. “You’ll get there,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow. “You sound awfully confident.”

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

The conversation gradually turned more personal as you walked, Felix weaving between the two of you. Auston told you about growing up in Scottsdale, his early days in hockey, and how he adjusted to life in Toronto. In return, you shared snippets of your own life—your family, your job, your goals.

Yet, as you spoke, Auston couldn’t help but notice how you deflected any kind of praise. If he complimented your work ethic, you’d shrug it off. If he mentioned your ambition, you’d redirect the conversation. It was clear you weren’t comfortable taking credit for your own strengths, and that baffled him. In his world, confidence was currency, and yours seemed to be in short supply.

By the time you circled back toward the coffee shop, the awkwardness from earlier had all but evaporated. Felix was panting happily, his energy finally burned off, and you felt a little lighter too.

As you handed the leash back to Auston, he gave you a considering look. “You should come to the game tomorrow.”

“The home game?” you asked, caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re supposed to be my…” He trailed off, his smirk turning playful. “It’ll look good. You know, for the act.”

You hesitated, unsure, but he pressed on. “Come on. VIP seats, good company. What’s there to think about?”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself nodding. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said, pulling Felix closer as he grinned down at you. “And don’t forget your game face.”

As he walked away, Auston couldn’t help but glance back, his thoughts lingering on you longer than he expected. For all your insecurities, there was something undeniably compelling about you. This arrangement might have started as a strategy, but he was beginning to wonder if it could be something else too.

_

“Oh, Toronto. What a tangled web our Ice King is weaving. One moment he’s dominating the ice (or, well, trying to), and the next, he’s walking through the city with his Mystery Queen by his side—dog in tow, coffee in hand, and cameras lurking around every corner.

It’s a scene straight out of a romance novel: casual smiles, shared laughs, and the kind of chemistry that can’t be ignored (even if it’s staged, we see you, Matthews). Yet, there’s something undeniably intriguing about this pairing. She’s poised, seemingly unbothered by the chaos surrounding him, and he? Well, let’s just say he doesn’t seem to mind the added spotlight when she’s in the frame.

But don’t get too comfortable, dear readers. There are cracks in every façade, and this one is no exception. The whispers in the hockey world are growing louder, and if there’s one thing we know, it’s that the truth has a funny way of coming to light—especially when the stakes are this high.

So, what’s the endgame here? Is this truly a strategic pairing, or are we witnessing the beginning of something that neither of them saw coming? Whatever the answer, you can bet your last sip of Tim’s coffee that I’ll be here to spill the tea.

Until next time, Toronto. Keep your eyes on the ice—and the streets. The season is young, and this story is just getting started.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!