#im a performer! i always have been! i used to be a part of a studio perform on stage

[lycanr0t]

i feel very frustrated about the trend of giving chil body hair bc if it was any other anime twink i would be thrilled its just that it seems to only be because people are SO afraid of him looking young they have to make him hairy to justify liking him in ships.

meanwhile it does directly go against canon (he literally is supposed to look like a child. this is integral to both his character and his race's lore as a whole and it makes no damn sense that he would be mistaken for a child if he has body hair i mean. cmon.)

and it's like. some men are hairless. some men look young. when youre a trans man in your 20s-30s its especially common to be mistaken for a teenager, even more so if you're not on t. and short. these traits do not make you less of a man or an adult. :/

[koishua]

shining solo ep 8. my reaction rn 😐😐 took it a bit hard lmao

[the-blaze-empress]

fuck i miss being in an orchestra

[kitten4sannie]

trendsetter

reach for my goals, hit it dead center

pairing: idol ex! mingi x fem! reader

genre: an actual idol au omg, smut

summary: mingi reminds you why he was so hard to leave in the first place, well, the first few times, anyway.

w.c: 3.3k

bc i’m bigger, better

warnings: brief weed use/shotgunning (mingi’s a plug in another life btw <3), mingi’s kinda a dickhead and a master manipulator (damn double homicide), dom! mingi, subby! reader, mingi’s got a big cawk, glove ? kink? idk bro, exhibitionism, teasing, praise/degradation, pet names galore/name calling, tit play, spit, fingering, finger sucking (leads to some gagging), oral (giving), deep-throating, cum eating, grinding, kissing, size kink, breeding kink, mingi fucks reader raw on the hood of her own car hallelujahhhh

a/n: don’t blame me for this btw,, blame mingi mango and the things he’s been posting on ig 😮‍💨 this man makes me delirious istg. also i wrote this while incredibly sleep deprived just so yk !! there might be some grammar and spelling errors (as well as a general sense of lunacy ✨) regardless i hope you enjoy and please do let me know if you liked it bc feedback is like a treat for me and im a treat hungry lil goblin uwu <3

song recs: so damn into you by vlad holiday - come 2 me by johnny goth - liquid by boston manor

Mingi barely made it two steps past one of the various emergency exit doors of the booming, hectic arena, dropping his lighter on the ground when his favorite ex suddenly came waltzing back into his life again after just swiftly exiting it for the nth time.

“Where are my car keys? I know you have them,” you abruptly confronted him, snatching the lighter from the ground before he could grab it and sliding it inside your tank top, right in between your tits.

“Why would I have your car keys, sugar?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, walking in your direction until he towered over you, gently clasping his calloused hands around your upper arms so he could rub them up and down in an effort to calm you, gently turning you around until your back pressed into the cool metal of the emergency door. “Can you use that pretty little head of yours for me, Y/N? I just performed right now. I was busy rehearsing before that. Do you really think I would take your keys from you just to keep you from leaving?”

“Yes, I do. You always do some fuck shit like this when I try to leave. Every time, Mingi.” Despite the furrow of your brow and the contempt present within your words, you couldn’t help but watch as Mingi’s thumbs began to press into the sides of your tits. When you didn’t say anything, he began to press the rest of his gloved fingers into the softness of your chest.

“Some fuck shit like this?” Mingi asked under his breath, studying your flushed face to gauge your reaction as he squeezed your tits against the palms of his rough hands, rubbing his thumbs teasingly against the thin material of your sports bra until he felt your nipples harden. “You aren’t tell me to stop, baby. Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you…” you whispered softly, not understanding why you never had the strength to deny him, even in a public, though empty alleyway, even after you just broke up with him only a little while ago.

“You don’t seem to hate this…Your body’s responding to me…” Mingi suddenly pinched your nipples through your sports bra, chuckling at the gasp you let out. He leaned down, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “I bet you don’t hate how wet I’m making you right now, either. Is your cunt throbbing for me already, Y/N?”

“N-no…” You bit into your bottom lip when your ex let out a disapproving ‘uh-uh’ as you turned your head to look away from him, squeezing your thighs together, hoping your arousal wouldn’t drip past your short skirt.

With one hand still clasped around your tit to play with it, Mingi brought the other up to grasp your chin, making you face him again, so close that you were breathing in each other’s air, your parted lips almost touching. “You’ll let me check to see if you’re lying, won’t you, sugar? Can I see how many fingers I can fit inside your tight little cunt?”

You hated how much your body and soul still burned for your lecherous ex, hated how desperate you suddenly were for him to have his way with you, but what you hated most of all was the way you whimpered out, “Please, Minnie.”

Mingi groaned softly at the use of his pet name, feeling most of his blood began to head below the belt, letting go of your chin, the both of you watching as his hand disappeared underneath your skirt. He instantly slipped two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckles, despite wearing a pair of thick leather gloves, the both of you moaning at the squelching sound your bare, wet cunt made. “That’s my girl. You wore this slutty little skirt and no panties just for me, didn’t you? You don’t even care about getting out of here with your keys. You just wanted me to put my hands all over you one last time, yeah?”

Just as you were about to respond, Mingi suddenly stuffed his leather-bound fingers into your mouth, making you taste your own warm wetness. “A-aaahn,” you moaned around his moving digits, feeling them slip along your hot tongue, looking up at your ex’s intensely dark gaze.

“Suck,” he simply requested, smiling fondly at the sight of your plush lips closing around his fingers, pushing them further and further back until he made you gag around them, his cock throbbing at the sight of your teary doe eyes. “Oh, baby, if you’re going to be looking at me like that and making those pretty noises, I’m gonna lose it…but, you can take it, right? My fingers in your throat?”

You whined softly, trying your best not to gag more around his moving fingers, relaxing your throat enough so that the only sound that could be heard was your moans and the abundance of saliva in your mouth.

“Good girl.” Mingi slipped his fingers out of your mouth and pressed his lips onto your cheek, whispering, “Can you take my cock down your throat next, pretty girl? I worked so hard to perform tonight, you know. Don’t you think I deserve head from my favorite ex?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself agreeing, your head still fuzzy from having his fingers inside your mouth, desperate to have something else warm and thick on your tongue, thankful for the heavy hand that began to push your head down until your bare knees were resting against the cold concrete below.

“Say ‘aaah’,” Mingi cooed darkly from above, expertly undoing his thick belt buckle and lowering his pants until his stiff, reddened cock smacked up into his abdomen. It was then that his hands were drawn to either side of your head, barely giving you enough time to open your mouth before he thrusted forward, the tip of his cock instantly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuckkkk, that’s a good slut. You don’t have to be my girlfriend to be my fuck toy, huh, baby?”

Your moans of approval were instantly muffled by the massive cock that was being stuffed inside your throat by your eager ex, as you reached up to grasp at his hips, the shiny lighter that was still sitting in between your tits starting to jostle around due to Mingi’s rough movements.

Suddenly reminded of his post-concert ritual, Mingi reached into his back pocket and placed a joint between his lips, then fished the lighter out from between your tits, but not before he squished one of them for the hell of it. He rolled the dial on the lighter a few times before a flame sparked, bringing it up and lighting the tip of his joint.

The strong aroma of Mingi’s flower reached you in an instant, having to blink your many tears away to watch him take a deep puff of it and blow it out into your face. Your lips tingling from the immense stretch, you sputtered around his pulsing cock, suddenly pulling away, letting your spit laced lips rest against his leaking tip, weakly licking at the pre-cum that spilled from it. “M-minnie…”

“Why’d you stop?” Mingi grunted, biting on the tip of the joint to keep it from falling from his lips, looking down at you with his sharp, slightly red eyes. Using his free hand to jerk himself off with his cockhead pressed to your lips and smearing his pre-cum over them just for his own enjoyment, he slowly realized what was up. “Oh, you want a hit? Aren’t you precious? Come here.”

Mingi slowly lowered himself down into a crouching position, letting go of his cock to grab your chin with his arousal coated fingers, taking in a deeper inhale, the majority of the joint turning to ash, just as he flicked it away into the gutter. He pressed his lips onto yours in an open-mouthed kiss, neither of you bothering to close your eyes as he slowly filled your lungs with smoke.

Just as you began to choke while trying to exhale all the smoke, Mingi dragged his tongue across your own and over your top set of teeth just because he felt like it, before standing back up. “I bet you’re feeling real good now, baby. That was top shelf.” He spat into the palm of his hand and lubed up his cock, before patting your cheek and sliding himself back into the hot haven that was your throat, not wasting a single second to begin pumping himself inside it again, almost like he had never stopped.

Now that both your body and brain were delightfully clouded with a heavy, lustful high, you felt like you could cum just from getting ruthlessly throat-fucked alone, your nails digging into Mingi’s bare hips, more and more tears and saliva dripping along your flushed skin the longer he abused your tiny throat with his oversized length.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it when you cry and drool like that just from sucking my cock, baby. I’m gonna fucking cum,” Mingi groaned deeply from above you, rested his forearms against the emergency door, thrusting sloppily into your mouth. He let out a few short, whiny moans once he began to shudder, plunging his throbbing cock deep inside your throat and staying still. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming. Take my load, princess, ohh my god, that’s it.”

You swallowed the warm, salty liquid as it shot down your throat, only to open your mouth and present your tongue when Mingi pulled out and began to slowly milk his cock, taking the rest of his load on your tongue, not swallowing and simply letting it drip down, a few drops spilling down your chin and getting onto your tits.

“Mm, that’s my messy girl. You’re waiting for me to feed it to you, huh?” Mingi licked at his plush lips from witnessing your obedient nod, pushing his soft cock back into his pants and waiting for you to stand up so that he could collect some of the cum that had escaped your mouth and pushed it back into your mouth. “That’s right, babygirl, clean it all up for me. Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Once you slurped the rest of his load off of his fingers, you wrapped your arms around Mingi’s neck, pressing your heated body into his. “Mingiiii, please fuck me, I can’t take it,” you begged him underneath your breath, pressing your lips onto his neck up to his tense jawline.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t live without this dick, can you?” he questioned you huskily, bringing his wrists up to his mouth one by one to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before reaching past your waist to roughly squeeze his warm hands into your ass. When you grimaced up at him, he tugged your skirt up and spread your ass open to run his fingers down your wet slit from behind, making you whimper. “Admit it, and i’ll fuck you stupid, princess.”

Swallowing down any remaining dignity you had along with the remnants of your ex’s load, you lifted one leg up to hook it around his slim waist, allowing him easier access to you wet cunt, shuddering at the sensation of him shallowly slipping his fingers into and out of you just to tease you. “I can’t live without your cock, Mingi, okay? No one fucks me like you do, so please, make me yours.”

Mingi rubbed the abundant wetness around your cunt, licking his lips hungrily, staring down at you past his dark shades. “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees, princess?”

“I don’t give a fuck if someone sees, just fuck me, please!”

Mingi grinned crookedly, finding deep amusement in your desperation, considering how you were acting just a little while ago. “Where’s your car, baby?”

You pointed down the dark alleyway. “It’s just around the corner over there.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, then picked you up from the ground, hooking both of your thighs around his waist and carrying you over to your car, massaging his hands into your thighs on the way. “I don’t have any condoms, you know.”

When Mingi laid you down on the hood of your car, the cool metal sending goosebumps up and down your exposed, heated skin, you shook your head and smiled softly. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I fuck you raw, and leave you stuffed full of my cum…” Still in between your legs, Mingi bent down to leave kisses, licks, and bites along your neck and collarbone, lowering his pants down just enough to free his length, his slick cock growing hard and heavy against your bare cunt. “Fuck, and when I use my fingers to shove my nut back inside your cunt after…mm, I’m honestly surprised you’re not knocked up for me already…”

“Mingi,” you whined disapprovingly, despite the fresh wave of slick coating your ex’s cock as it repeatedly rubbed back and forth along your cunt.

“What, I thought you liked being my cumslut…my little breeding bitch…my pump n’ dump princess…” Mingi recited playfully, teasing your fluttering hole with the tip of his cockhead, just about driving you to the brink of insanity withi his teasing.

“Shut up, Min, oh my god…”

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” he suggested, hovering close enough to your face for you to pull him in for a desperate kiss that consisted mainly of tongue and teeth, your mouths occasionally making contact in between tongue swipes and lip bites, the both of you panting all the while.

Growing impatient, you slipped your fingers into his choppy hair, tugging his head back until your lips parted, a few strands of saliva still connecting them. “If you don’t put your cock inside me in the next two seconds, I’m going to bite it off. You hear me, Song Mingi?”

Groaning breathily when you tugged at his hair again, Mingi let out a few soft chuckles, taking his shades off and setting them down on the corner of the hood. “Using my government name like that….I must’ve teased you too much. My poor angel, so desperate for cock. I’ll fuck you good, baby. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighed, as he wrapped his fingers around his length, guiding the tip to your entrance and sliding all the way in with ease, the both of you letting out obscene moans. Without any hesitation, Mingi began to buck his hips wildly, his metal belt banging against the hood of your car with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. You feel that? Is it good for you?”

“Yes…!” you cried out, barely about to speak, let alone function, now that your beloved ex was rearranging your guts with his colossal cock.

Huffing, Mingi threw your legs up over his shoulders and laid his body weight on you, essentially folding you in half. He ran his tongue along your jaw, before nipping at it, whispering, “God, you’re always so fucking tight, princess. Gonna milk me for all I’ve got, huh? Cuz’ you’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh, just for you, Minnie…”

“Mm-hmm, that’s why you’re still here even after you broke up with me earlier, baby…why you’re taking my cock on the hood of your car where anyone can see you…” Mingi continued, squeezing his hands into the plumpness of your thighs, getting a good grip on them, so that he could drive himself into you as hard as he possibly could, punching short, breathy moans out of you. “You sound so pretty for me, baby, and fuck, you’re so wet right now….You’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you?”

As soon as it felt like Mingi’s oversized cock had slammed directly into your cervix, you let out an abrupt yell, an overwhelming amount of pleasure suddenly shooting through your body like lightning. “Fuck…! I’m cumming, Minnie, it’s so– oh my god.” You were gonna start whimpering and crying when Mingi gently placed his warm hand over your mouth, watching him nod his head knowingly at you, his suddenly softened gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s a good girl, such a good girl for me, Y/N,” Mingi sighed against your ear, the hot, wet sounds of your bodies colliding together and the ringing inside your ears almost too loud for you to hear him properly. Feeling your wetness pour out onto his cock, Mingi let go of your mouth and cradled your face instead, pressing slow, meaningful kisses onto your lips, a few drops of sweat dripping along the shaved sections of his hair just as your trembling fingers drifted along it. “Want it inside, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you whispered against his moving lips, not even realizing when you were clutching him impossibly close to you.

“That’s my baby…” Mingi pulled all the way out, your mixed arousal forming a milky foam around the base of his cock, before he slowly pushed all the way back in, just in time for him to paint your insides white with his seemingly endless load. He hugged you close to him all the while, pressing kiss and kiss onto your lips, face, and neck, knowing that your turbulent time together was about to come to an end, and wishing he could turn the clock back to spend another second with you.

Once your highs began to fade, you cleared your throat and slowly sat up, the both of you silently fixing your disheveled clothes and hair in a poor attempt to look presentable in the case of a random passerby.

“So…since you don’t have my keys, I’m not sure how I’m gonna get out of here,” you sighed, about to push yourself off of the hood of your car when Mingi helped you off instead, annoyed that he was suddenly acting gentlemanly when he had shown you nothing of the sort beforehand.

Smiling apologetically, Mingi fished around in one of his pockets and held your keys up to you. “I took them out of your purse before the show started.” Seeing the anger blossom on your pretty, flushed face, he continued, “Listen, I just wanted you to hear me out before you left and never came back to me, baby. I love you.”

You snatched the keys out of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back to sit on the hood of your car, keeping your thighs pressed together to keep everything from leaking out of you. “You don’t get to say that after you just made me your ‘pump n’ dump princess’, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t dump you, Y/N. You’re the one who dumped me!” Mingi whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his brown eyes growing wide and puppy-like.

You couldn’t help but begin to laugh, not only at the ludicrous situation you were both in, but at the truth of his statement. Wiping a tear from your eye, you clicked your keys to unlock your car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No, we’re going to the store to get Plan B, dummy. I’m not about to let Mingi Jr. run around and terrorize the city,” you replied, gazing at your ex, the sight of his childlike amusement making you feel a bit soft towards him.

“I call shotgun!” Mingi called, eagerly heading to the passenger door, practically bouncing on his heels.

“There’s only two of us,” you giggled, sitting down in the car with him.

“For now.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You turned the ignition on, shaking your head, the corners of your lips hurting from how long you had been smiling. “Never say that shit again.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

general taglist: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @8tinytings @baguette-atiny @lvnderhazes @knucklesdeepmingi @soobiverse @jeongwangjessmina @ja3hwa @actuallyalien @aggiebackstage @doom-fics @koalakoala8 @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[darling-flora]

Short n' Sweet 2

oscar piastri x yn singer - social media au

fc : tyla

[part 1]

[part 2]

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

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

yourinstagram

Liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and 11,159,944 others

yourinstagram Japan 23' 🦋

view all comments

ynfan1 most stunning girl ever 🤩

oscarpiastri pretty girl im so proud of you !!!!! love you🧡

↳yourinstagram love you mr pastry 💋💋 !!

ynfan2 bed chem performance was crazyyyyy i wanna know oscar's reaction 🤭

↳ynfan5 her saying "shout out to my man for being the inspiration for this song" then blowing a kiss to oscar 🤭 ↳oscarpiastri almost passed out liked by yourinstagram

lilymhe speechless 😍

liked by yourinstagram

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

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

yourinstagram

Liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and 11,159,944 others

yourinstagram it's been a week to remember in japan ❤🏆

view all comments

f1fan2 bro how did oscar bag one of the most beautiful and biggest popstars right now

oscarpiastri i look silly...

↳yourinstagram i think you look handsome 😁 ↳oscarpiastri well thank you pretty girl 😉 ↳yourinstagram love ya !! 💋❤ ↳oscarpiastri love love love you !!!!!!

lilymhe glad you're having fun !!

liked by yourinstagram

ynfan3 living the life we all want

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

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 4,181,544 others

oscarpiastri What a weekend! Japan, you were awesome 🇯🇵

view all comments

yourinstagram couldn’t be prouder of you !! 🤍 love you !!!!!! 🫶

↳oscarpiastri love you cutie 🧡💐

oscarfan72 bro got to see his girlfriend perform then got his first podium … what a life 🤯

landonorris being on the podium looks nice on you 😎

liked by oscarpiastri

lilymhe my girlfriend is so cutesy 🤭

↳oscarpiastri i know MY girlfriend is beautiful 🙂‍↕️

mclaren One for the books 🧡

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarfan90 very fun weekend to watch 🤓

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

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

f1photographer

Liked by oscarpiastri, ynfan1 and 159,944 others

f1photographer Y/n L/n usually tries to avoid the camera's on race weekends but with a little convincing Y/n posed for us upon the start of the Sprint here in Qatar.

view all comments

highfashfan1 she’s ALWAYS gonna be the best dressed 🙂‍↕️

ynfan2 oh im so gay

yourinstagram a sweet treat will make me break every time

↳oscarpiastri can confirm 🤭

oscarpiastri wow wow wow im speechless 😍

oscfan3 body so tea her boyfriend's australian

↳ynfan1 😭 ??? ↳oscfan3 😁

ynfan4 not a face card but a face bank 🙂‍↕️😌

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

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

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

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 5,181,544 others

oscarpiastri Wowee… that was a cool weekend 🧡

view all comments

yourinstagram so proud of you !! love you pretty boy ☺️🫶

↳oscarpiastri love you !!! 💐🧡

lewishamilton Keep it up! 👊🏾

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarfan72 RACE WINNER !!!

landonorris keep em coming 🏆 🏆

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarfan90 y/n 😍

mclaren Let's keep moving up 🏆

liked by oscarpiastri

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

yourinstagram

Liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and 15,159,944 others

yourinstagram qatar you were wonderful !! 🧡

view all comments

oscarpiastri wowwowwowwow 😍

↳yourinstagram 😊😘

oscarpiastri y/n's world and were all just living in it

↳yourinstagram STOPPP 😭🫶 ↳oscarpiastri love you bby !!! ↳yourinstagram love you more 😘🫶!!!!!

ynstan03 bro how is oscar dating Y/N L/N ???

SZA pretty girl 😇

landonorris oscar looks sick 😎

↳yourinstagram hot * ↳landonorris ew

oscstan44 PARENTS !!!

ynstan23 the fit's this weekend !!! ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

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

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[oneknightlight]

I think my goal for convention season this year is to actually enjoy my cosplay and immerse myself in the cosplay community like I used to Once Upon A Time. I think my problem is I’ve had one too many sour experiences with ex cosplay groups, a challenge socially adjusting to the fact that I’m trans, and getting back on my feet after moving out of an unhealthy environment, so the last convention I went to I just. Hid away and lurked artists alley, sort of anxious. Sorta confused. Nothing like me really, and it sucked. Almost the entire reason I go to conventions is cosplay and fan interaction. I love to enjoy art too, but it’s more of a cherry on top, I fancy the element of play and pretend foremost, and going to a convention anxious, insecure, and unable to pretend was actually miserable and I won’t be repeating that (Best I can! :>)

I want to cosplay a character that puts me in a position where no one’s necessarily pressuring me to act, but it would be delightful. Acting would be fun, preferred, maybe a tiny winy bit expected even if it goes unsaid. A character that’s going to bring me into social situations like picture taking, and fan interaction, because to be frank. it’ll be good for me. Pre-pandemic, I had a certain amount of self-made glory at con’s that I let life and shitty people rob from me and I want to reclaim it.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 2 - ( c.s )

part one

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, kissing, that’s it i think

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: PART TWOOOOO!!!! i hope u guys like this series i’m having a lot of fun with it (and s/o to my girl @cutenote for letting me use her name). self-indulged this chapter and made the reader a flyers fan so SRY but anyways, enjoy! next thing im putting out is a matt request and then i’ll be working on this series and the tattooartist!reader x matt series. if you have other reqs, questions, confessions, etc, my inbox is open 🫶🏻

@cutenote @mattsmunch @mattybsbitch @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss

your stomach flips as you stare in the mirror, twisting and turning every which way to make sure you look alright. you’re in one of chris’s jerseys, repping the scarlet and white colors of boston university, complete with the little ‘C’ emblem for captain.

he left it in your mailbox earlier on his way to the arena, demanding that you wear it instead of the BU sweatshirt you had planned on going in. so you listened to him, even though you’re not really sure why.

your hair and makeup are all done, contrary to the last time chris saw you, when you were in his house threatening to call the cops. it feels performative, getting all dressed up for something you don’t even want to go to.

but what the hell, you hadn’t seen the team play at all this year, and if you look your best you’ll feel your best. at least, that’s what you convinced yourself would happen.

“are you done up there? we need to leave, games gonna start soon!” one of your roommates calls from the living room.

you sigh and turn away from your own reflection so you can head for the stairs. cassidy and ramona are both waiting for you on the couch as you round the corner, also decked out in BU merch.

you’re just lucky you had been able to convince them both to come with you, so you don’t have to stand by yourself.

“took you long enough.” cassidy mumbles under her breath as she stretches her legs and stands up.

mona mimicks her movements, but not without shooting her a glare. “be nice, she’s obviously nervous.”

“no i’m not!” you protest, and now they both give you an eye roll as they pass you to get their coats from the closet.

“your voice just went up ten octaves.” cass snarks.

you are anxious, but it’s just because of the unknown. you still haven’t figured out what chris is angling at, besides maybe sleeping with you, which isn’t gonna happen. well, probably not at least.

no, not ever. oh my god.

“i’m not nervous. i just wish i could back out.” you double down, turning to see them both pulling on their big winter jackets.

“you used to love hockey, you just don’t like chris. one game won’t kill you.” ramona replies.

“and you also didn’t have to agree.”

this accusation makes your face flush, in embarrassment and in denial. “he wouldn’t have stopped that party if i didn’t. and you know i could never actually call the cops.”

ramona stays silent as cass laces up her shoes. “whatever you say babe. you look cute in his jersey either way.”

“cassidy!” you whine in exasperation.

“i’m honestly not sorry.”

the entire walk to the get to the game is spent harassing you, which is a solid twenty minutes because you live off campus. ramona does try to keep it to a minimum, though you can’t really blame them for the questions. you have them too.

it’s always been weird with you and chris. you hate his attitude, how people fall to his feet like he’s some sort of god. you can’t stand the way he talks to you like he can read your mind, or how you always catch him staring at your lips just so he can pretend like he wasn’t.

he does it to every girl, and you don’t know why he’s taking all of these extra steps to try and get you into bed.

maybe because you see through it, and you don’t want any part of him. he said it himself, he doesn’t want a relationship, and you’re not looking to get an STD, so you don’t know why he’s bothering.

you finally arrive at the facility, and your stomach flips. tons of people are out tonight, of course. the sun is long gone with it being winter and all, so the lights are extra overwhelming as you step inside.

you head through security and scan your passes, ones that are specifically right beside the student section in the very front. chris gifted them to you for free since you didn’t get season tickets, right by the glass so he knows where you are.

even when you were a pain in the ass and insisted you needed two more for your roommates, he made it work. it was a little impressive.

you find your seats, and the boys are already on the ice warming up. you spot chris from the jersey number, 3, and you can see his long hair poking out from underneath his helmet.

he’s focused on taking a practice shot, but as he skates by the glass afterwards you see him looking, like he isn’t sure if you showed up. but then he finds you, and you can actually see his stupid smile.

he waves, just a tiny one, before he goes right back to drills. you’re thankful he didn’t make it dramatic, because you know there’s plenty of girls in the stands who want him, and have probably already been with him.

you each take your coats off and hang them on your chairs. you know the fact that you having his last name plastered across your back doesn’t help the attention, but people can think what they want.

you don’t give a fuck. cassidy was right, it’s cuter on you anyways.

they head into the locker room quickly after your arrival, and even more people fill in to watch the show. the student section is loud as the facility finally goes dark, and the team skates back onto the ice moments later.

spotlights flood the stadium, highlighting different players as both teams line up along the neutral zone. you cheer extra loud when they announce the starting lineup and call chris’s name, even despite your vendetta against him.

no use being a shitty fan if you’re already here.

they get ready for the face off after the national anthem, and BU gets the puck. it’s back and forth for a while, and you find yourself groaning and cheering with the rest of the crowd during every play.

the first goal of the game is scored within fifteen minutes, by one of his other roommates ben, of all people. you and your friends are jumping around like maniacs, and you can see him laughing at you guys after they’re all done celebrating on the ice.

it makes you wonder if chris told them you’d be here, but you force yourself to eat the popcorn cass bought and stop thinking about it.

the second period begins and BU keeps possession for most of it, pretty much dominating their opponent. in the final thirty seconds, chris drives down the rink to score another goal.

you throw your hands up without thinking, and you let the excitement take over. “fuck yeah!”

cassidy and ramona are screaming too, shaking you by the shoulders wildly.

he comes skating over, pointing right at you as he does a lap near the student section. heads turn, and you can literally feel people staring at you now, even despite the noise and the chaos.

but you’re alive, and you can’t get enough of this environment, so you keep cheering for him regardless of the burning feeling of eyes on you.

“that was cute.” ramona nudges you with a genuine smile, and you’re fighting your own grin as you shake your head.

“whatever.”

the rest of the game is swift. your goalie makes a couple great saves, and a guy named dylan, who you’ve met before at parties, scores the final point of the night.

it just twists the knife further, because it’s a total shutout. the fans go wild as the final buzzer sounds, and you’re right there with them. you relish in the lights, the feeling.

you really did miss watching hockey in person. and you can’t even say you necessarily hate watching chris anymore. there’s just something about the way he skates, so locked in on the game.

he’s a threat, to be completely honest, and you kind of love it.

“that was fucking crazy.” cassidy is beaming happily as you guys gather your things ten minutes post-game, and ramona nods along.

“we’re gonna have to do this more often.” she glances at you with hope.

“hey, don’t look at me. i’m in it for the free tickets, and i’m not sure how long that’ll last.” you’re lying through your teeth, because you enjoyed it just as much.

but again. who knows what he’s really trying to do here.

“you could give him the benefit of the doubt.” mona suggests dryly.

“does he really deserve it? he’s going to think he’s the shit either way.” you point out, and she goes quiet.

“maybe that’s true, but i’ve never heard of him doing whatever that celebration was with other girls.” cassidy takes over, and she’s honestly check-mated you.

it is strange, because when you watched games last season, before you had chris as your neighbor, before you even really knew of him, you hadn’t ever seen that. and from current knowledge, you’re pretty sure he had a short term girlfriend during one of those months.

“touché, i guess.” you grumble, and as if right on que your phone vibrates in your pocket.

chris

wait for me, 15 mins max

ramona and cassidy take the bus home, leaving you on your lonesome as the crowd clears out slowly but surely.

you can hear girls whispering about you as they walk by, but it’s not even worth it. you’re not scared of what they have to say. maybe when you were younger, you would have reacted, but it’s just displaced jealousy anyways.

they don’t even know the truth.

finally, after what feels like a painful amount of time, you get a text from chris with directions toward the locker rooms.

it’s far more quiet now as you make your way to the ground level of the arena, headed to the section of the rink you know is closed off to pretty much everyone else. there’s a guy standing there, dressed in his black shirt with the facility logo on it.

he goes to stop you, but chris comes strutting through the hall, out of uniform now. his brown hair is all messy, and he’s dressed down in a matching black sweat set.

“she’s cool, i have a pass for her.”

he walks right up to you, looping a red lanyard over your head. his fingertips brush the skin of your neck as he collects your hair with his hands, flipping it out from underneath the string for you.

it’s a small thing. his touch is barely there, and yet it still burns.

the security guy smiles at you as you follow chris down the hall. you’ve never been back here before, and you have to admit it’s kind of cool.

you can see where the arena workers go on and off the ice, and the large garage type doors that let the zambonis in and out.

“so.” he breaks the silence, and you almost jump at the sound of his voice.

you were in your own world, and you kind of forgot what was actually going on here.

“so.” you parrot, waiting for him to continue as he leads you around a corner.

“looked like you actually had fun for once.” chris jokes, and you shove his shoulder half-heartedly.

“shut up, i’ve always liked hockey. you though? i’m not so sure.” you give him a look and he opens his mouth like he’s shocked.

“come on, i pointed you out after my goal and everything. you’re telling me you didn’t like it even a little?”

you liked it more than you care to admit, so you don’t. “it’s gonna take more than that to impress me, christopher, but i will say it was a good game.”

“you might just be our lucky charm.” chris glances at you out of the corner of the corner of his eye as he slows to a stop in front of the locker room.

you cross your arms over your chest. “now you're just patronizing me.”

“always assuming the worst.”

“well, you make it easy.” you tease.

he pauses to look down at your defensive stance, at his jersey all scrunched up around your body, and you can tell by his smirk that he’s loving it a little too much.

you clear your throat to try and alleviate some of the tension and chris snaps out of it, turning to head through the little entryway.

“i’m gonna grab my bag, don’t go anywhere.”

“you’re my ride, dumbass.” you remind him, and you hear his chuckle reverberate against the walls as he disappears.

a few players head out as you wait, ones you don’t recognize, and they nod at you politely as they chat amongst themselves. it actually takes you by surprise, but you try not to show it.

chris comes back into the hall a minute later, bag slung around his shoulder. he’s got a black bruins beanie on now, and you raise an eyebrow instinctively.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, waving his hand so you follow him further down the wide corridor.

“your hat.” you point, and he looks offended.

“what’s your problem with it?”

“not everyone who goes to school here is actually from boston, genius. i’m a flyers fan.” you smile at him sweetly, and he literally groans.

“how did i not know this?” he asks as you guys reach the door that leads to the team parking lot.

“because you don’t know me.” you reply swiftly.

chris pushes the door open and holds it for you, another move you don’t expect. “i know more than you think.”

you shiver slightly as you step past him into the cold, wrapping your coat around yourself a bit tighter.

“if it helps you sleep at night.” you chirp over your shoulder.

you know his car, a black jeep grand cherokee that you’ve always been a little jealous of, and it’s sitting in the middle of the lot. not many others are still here, and you can hear both of your feet kicking up gravel as you walk.

chris picks up his pace so he can beat you there, swinging the passenger door open before you can do it yourself.

“wow, chivalry’s not dead.” you say blankly, sliding into the seat so he can close you in.

“what can i say, i’m a real gentleman.”

the interior smells like a pine air freshener, which actually isn’t a bad touch. chris walks around so he can toss his bag in the back and get behind the wheel, starting the engine and peeling out of the spot.

it’s quiet for a moment, aside from the music, and you can’t help but peek over at him sitting across from you. the shadows accentuate his striking features as he mumbles lyrics under his breath, nodding his head along ever so slightly.

he looks pretty, and you don’t like it one bit.

“i can feel you staring at me, you know.” chris turns to glance at you for a brief moment before he puts his eyes back on the road.

it makes your palms sweat, because he caught you in the act and now there’s no shying away.

deny, deny, deny.

“just wondering why your face looks like that.”

“what, devilishly handsome?” he smirks.

“i was thinking gremlin-esque, but sure.” you deadpan, and he just shakes his head and laughs lowly.

“so scared of your own feelings. it’s cute.”

it’s a major call-out, and it normally doesn’t phase you. but tonight it’s different. he’s being so fucking strange, and it’s clearly been messing with your head.

“i’m not scared of shit, because the only thing i feel is sorry for all the girls who have actually fallen for this.” you retort, and the frustration is clear in your voice.

“other girls don’t get the princess treatment like you do.” his self-satisfied demeanor doesn’t falter for a second, even despite your low blow.

“yeah, right. i’m sure i’m really special.”

chris grips the wheel tighter as he turns onto your street, and you have to rip your eyes away from his long fingers.

“well you’re the only one who’s ever worn my jersey, so that’s something.” he admits, scratching his neck absentmindedly.

you’re not sure whether you believe it, but this time he actually does sound genuinely nervous. well, nervous for chris.

“and i wear it best too.” you brush some imaginary dust off of your shoulder as he pulls up into his driveway and puts the car in park.

“won’t argue on that one.” he shrugs, shooting you an easy grin.

“that’s surprising.”

you step back out into the crisp night air, slamming the door shut behind you. you meet chris at the front of the car and try to move around him, headed for your own place.

he takes a step to block you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “where are you going?”

you put some distance between your bodies, because he’s once again too close for comfort, and it’s hard to focus on your words when he’s inches from your face.

“home, obviously.”

“why? i thought we were going to hang out.” he frowns.

“nothing good ever happens in your house past nine p.m.”

this makes him smirk. “very good things happen in that house past nine p.m.”

“your charm is irresistible, truly.” you bite back sarcastically, maneuvering around him as you try to ignore the fire burning in your stomach.

you’ve only taken two steps before chris grabs your arm, pulling you back into his chest quickly. his other hand goes to hold the side of your face, tangling in your hair as he leans in close.

his lips ghost over yours, just barely. you can smell the cologne he must have put on after the game, can feel his slight stubble scratching your face, and it’s all too much.

you haven’t been kissed in so long, and right now it doesn’t matter that it’s chris, and that it goes against everything you stand for. your eyes flutter closed and you fill the gap, pressing your mouth against his hard.

it shocks him, so much so that he almost forgets how to do this properly. chris can taste your berry chapstick, and your lips are so much fucking softer than he even imagined.

his tongue slides against yours skillfully, deepening the kiss as he presses his body flush against yours. you can feel his thumb brushing your cheek as your mouths clash together continuously. its passionate and angry and intense, and you can’t believe it’s happening.

why is this happening?

the thought snaps you out of it, and you put your hand on his chest to force him away roughly. chris is surprised, and you’re both slack-jawed and breathing heavily as your body tries to catch up with your brain.

“i…i’m gonna go.” you mumble quietly, because you have no idea what else to say.

“or you could stay.”

“i don’t want to.”

“you’re a terrible liar.” he counters, and you can see how raw and red his lips are even in the moonlight.

you shake your head and turn toward your own front porch. it’s too hard to continue meeting his fiery gaze, because he’s looking at you like he actually needs you.

“goodnight, chris.”

“this isn’t over, you know. one day you’ll finally admit it.” he calls after you, and you don’t gratify him with a response.

there’s nothing that’ll change his mind, especially after you had actually caved in during that moment of weakness. it was so unwarranted, and you’re angry that kissing him didn’t feel as wrong as it should have.

you take the steps two at a time and hurry through the door, closing it behind you and pressing your back to the wood.

your fingers dance across your lips, and you swear you can still feel his mouth on yours.

[urlocaldesertdweller]

Tf1! Sentinel Prime x Prime! reader

forever in love with the idea of an equally powerful bot with Sentinel prime, im normal i swear guys (spelling, grammar, and capitalization severely inconsistent , tf1 sentinel being tf1 sentinel, daresay yandere behavior)

you used to be a respected among your fellow primes and of course you had respect for them, expect for one

Sentinel prime has always been odd to you, something about him just felt off no matter how much the rest trusted him

a part of you wanted to like him back but you couldn’t, why? the rest of your brothers and sisters could, he was supposedly a great and compassionate prime just like the rest of you!

maybe it was the ego that irked you, you did always try and keep a humble view of yourself despite being a prime to all of Cybertron

or maybe it was the fact that it always felt like he was looking at you…even if he was talking to the other primes however it wasn’t exactly something you could’ve pinned your finger on

it always felt like he want more when he wanted to talk to you, guess he never had the heart to tell it yet.

Nevertheless the odd behavior made you ultimately have distance between you and him, you had actively avoided him and intentionally stayed quiet when he tried to talk to you, it only pushed him to want more out of you.

and boy oh boy was he surely thinking…

in his eyes he had loved something about you, maybe it was the way you looked when you gave cunning speech that was filled with raw power within your voice, your humbling attitude when praised for your prime duties.

oh he wanted to see so much more of you…what you would do in a dire situation, watch your natural calm composure break beyond his optics, to hear the confidence in your voice shatter and be lost…such sadistic thoughts!

or even the want to see your true power, he believes you have been…held back by your own softness, the things you could do without the responsibilities of protecting Cybertron keeping you at bay.

but as much as he wanted to rush his plan for you…it would be too predictable for you at least.

from personally delivering your energon cubes right at your chamber, praising you despite your declines, and pushes for conversations during meetings, gatherings, or even interviews, he will hold a smirk while asking bold questions that will certainly both stun the interviewer and yourself…

he will keep on pushing your buttons until you give in.

whether you confront him or not, he enjoys watching you take notice and look at him differently, its what he wanted…the attention of his favorite prime!

this is where he takes the opportunity to dig in more personal conversations along with watching you train and he will actively get close after you are done to admire your wonderful performance and bod, to which he will praise it, further pushing the limit as his fingertips graze from your weapon to your servos dangerously trailing up as thought tempting to tease you.

(he dreams of being play sparing with you and will intentionally let you win he wants to be dominant)

although you are still occasionally suspicious of him, it is true that he has gotten under your bod plates from a mixture of irritation and curiosity

if you keep on pushing him away, itll only make him want you more, he needs more of you, his thirst of you can never be quenched, his optics must always be on you watching you do everything so flawlessly…

Sentinel hates being challenged but when it comes to you? it loves and lives for the thrill of constantly trying to get you under his charms, in hopes that he’ll be able to spare you as he murders the rest of the primes.

you are simply too divine to be wasted so easily

[solarsturniolo]

Sub Matt abcs or hcs (maybe one or two where reader uses a vibrator on him)

Sub!Matt Headcanons

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @simplysturn @lacysturniolo @mattslolita @megamett44-lover @creamoncreamoncream2 @soursturniolo @meg-sturniolo

a/n: this is absolute garbage lmao sorry in advance

Warnings: semi smut / cursing (maybe? didn’t proof read) / sex !!!!!!!!!! / mentions of overstimulation / p in v / no protection / the end has me clawing my hair out of my scalp

• He’s a good listener, he always has been. That doesn’t change in the bedroom. He wants to please, he wants to be good for you, he wants you to guide him

• He LOVESSSSS the pet names, ‘pretty boy’ being his favorite

• It takes some convincing to use toys on him, but when he finally lets you use the vibrator he loses any and all sense of dignity that he once had. It shocked both of you seeing how much he enjoyed it. Although he’ll never bring it up first, when you ask if he wants to use it he is more than willing.

• Matt goes feral for your tits. Practically begging you to suffocate him with them. He loves to suck on them and hold them and feel the weight of them in his hands. He loves feeling your nipples hardening under his touch or his tongue.

• And on the rare occasion that you titty fuck him, he is a whining mess. He loves to watch his cock get lost in the valley of your breasts, feeling the warmth of your skin engulfing him. It drives him absolutely crazy.

• He doesn’t pull the ‘mommy’ card often, just when he can’t handle the teasing any longer.

• “P-Please, I’ve been s-such a good b-boy, I-I’m so close, please. Need it s-so bad, p-please mommy-“

• Not crazy about restraints, he likes being able to touch and feel you. He’ll do it every now and again but he’d much rather have his hands on you.

• He does, however, enjoy the blindfold. Never knowing when you’ll touch him or where. It drives him crazy. It makes his dick throb just thinking about what you’ll do to him next.

• He loves being marked up. He’ll bitch and moan about it the next morning, knowing he’ll have to cover it up before recording later, but he loves the possessiveness. He’ll lay there and let you mark him up for hours, he practically lives for it.

• He’s a good boy, he always makes sure to ask for permission before doing anything. “Please can I touch you? I-I’ll make you feel so good, I promise…” “F-Fuck please d-do that again, o-oh god…” “P-Please let me cum, I’ve been so good, I-Im such a good boy, p-please…”

• After the third or fourth round, he’s a mess. Panting, whining, sweating. Muscles in his thighs spasming from the intensity of his numerous orgasms, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his sweaty hair sticking to your neck as he rests his head on your chest. Trailing kisses along your breasts and up to your collarbone. Soft “thank you”s leaving his lips as he tries to catch his breath.

• The aftercare is his favorite part. Soft praises of his performance whispered in his ear, your fingers running through his messy hair, nails gently massaging his scalp. He stays buried in you, loving the closeness and the warmth between you both.

• He could stay like that all night, but once he senses your tired energy, he lays down with you, pulling you into his chest. His arms around your body, fingers gently massaging your hipbones, his lips leaving tender kisses across your face.

• He professes his love in soft gravely whispers, his fingers now tracing the shape of your jawline while he stares into your eyes. He kisses your lips, much gentler now, savoring the taste with a slow sensual make-out session

• To end the evening, he asks if you can cockwarm him, and you aren’t one to deny his wishes. He’s gentle and slow, making sure to not hurt you or get things too heated again. With him buried in you once again, he pulls your back against his chest, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder. His hand instinctively comes up to rest at the base of your neck, fingers ever so gently wrapping around your throat, though being careful not to apply any pressure.

• “My perfect girl,” He whispers, kissing your jaw. “What did I do to get so lucky?”

[megalony]

Home Invasion

This is an Eddie x Buck x deaf! Reader imagine based on an anon request and I hope you will all like it. I will be doing a follow up part soon too. Feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream

911 Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: When Eddie and Evan are at work, someone breaks into their home and (Y/n) ends up being attacked.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When (Y/n) walked through the hallway towards the kitchen, a tender smile tugged at her lips and her footsteps slowed as she walked through the kitchen doorway.

Reaching her hand out, she dragged her fingertips delicately across the whiteboard pinned to the wall next to the door. The large whiteboard had many small, laminated squares of paper blue tacced to the top of the board in two rows. Each square had a diagram on with writing beneath it and there was a plastic pocket taped to the corner of the board with hundreds more squares stuffed inside.

The board was for Chris.

With his cerebal palsy, Chris was finding it hard to learn and perform sign language. He needed more ways to communicate with (Y/n) when his signs were shaky at best and it took him a long time to form one sentence using sign.

So they got a white board with hundreds of diagrams and words such as morning, hello, dinner, out, car and other vocabs so Chris could string a sentence together for (Y/n) to read. They also had a large laminate poster stuck next to the white board to help remind Chris of simple signs he could use.

Both Eddie and Evan had mastered their sign language courses the moment the three of them got into a relationship together.

(Y/n) could speak, but since she couldn't hear her own voice, she never knew if she was pronouncing words properly, if she was being too loud or too quiet or if she was muttering rather than speaking. Talking made her self-conscious and unsettled and she preferred to use sign language. But Chris was slowly coaxing her out of her shell because he was working on his words and pronouncing too so it was like they were learning together.

And if Chris spoke slowly and tried to keep his lips clear and fluent, (Y/n) was learning to read his lips. His cerebal palsy gave Chris a different way of moving his lips and pronouncing so for (Y/n) it was like learning a new language. But starting to understand Chris's speech meant he didn't always have to try and use sign language. As long as she could understand him and he could understand her signs, they would be able to communicate well together.

A twinkling smile lit up (Y/n)'s face when she looked down at the whiteboard and read the two words scribbled along the centre which was definitely Evan's handwriting.

'Love You!'

(Y/n) smiled to herself as she walked over towards the sink and grabbed herself a cup. She flicked the kettle on and leaned her forearms down on the counter, waiting for it to boil.

It always felt strange to be home alone without any of her boys. Both Evan and Eddie were at work and Chris was at school. (Y/n) never knew what to do with herself when the house work had all been done and she had nowhere to be and no work to be catching up on.

Watching movies weren't as fun without the boys fighting over popcorn and throwing it around the room. (Y/n) figured she could do some art while she had the house to herself with the tv on as a background image to keep her mind occupied.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and slowly trailed from the kitchen through to the dining room. Setting her cup down in the middle of the table, (Y/n) moved towards the cupboard at the far end where she and Chris had their craft boxes.

But just as she kneeled down and went to grab her dark blue plastic box, something caught her attention out the corner of her eye.

(Y/n) turned her head to the left and leaned forward, but she wasn't sure what she had seen, or what she thought she had seen for a fleeting moment.

Her brows narrowed but after a few seconds passed, (Y/n) let out the breath she had been keeping in and turned her sights back to the box in front of her. Maybe she had left the tv on in the living room and the changing colours caught her perceptive gaze. Maybe she had left a window open and the breeze was moving the curtains.

Box in hand, she stood up and moved back to the table and started to rummage through for her paints and a fresh canvas. Evan's birthday was coming up and (Y/n) wanted to make something to go along with the adventure course she and Eddie had booked for him to go on.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body when, just as she had a bottle of paint in each hand, she felt something tangle in her hair.

A hand.

Sharp nails scratched into her scalp. Fingers curled tightly into her locks. Knuckles pressed harshly into her scalp and the force sent her head jolting forward. The movement sent a shockwave running down the base of (Y/n)'s spine and something burned at the back of her throat.

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes as her breaths started to run away without her.

Somebody was in the house.

Both her guys were at work and Chris was at school. No one else should be home except for (Y/n) and she had locked the door when she came home from taking Chris to school.

Someone had broken into their home. And (Y/n) hadn't heard them.

She wasn't sure whether she screamed or if she only made a whimpering sound but all the air pushed past her lips as her hands dropped the tubes of paint onto the table. She flung her arms out behind her and tried to scratch her assailant's arm and thrust her elbow behind her, aiming for whatever she could reach to unarm and hurt them.

Now (Y/n) was beginning to wish she had taken some kind of self defence class or at least joined Eddie and Evan when they went to the gym.

Her eyes snapped shut in panic and (Y/n) tried in the split second she had to brace herself when the hand tightened in her hair and she felt their arm pin down into her back. Whoever was behind her thrust her forward so hard and fast that her forehead bashed into the table, scattering the paints until they rolled onto the floor and (Y/n) could see stars twinkling behind her eyelids.

A roaring scream left her lips and she could feel her throat and lips vibrating from the action as her knees caved and she let go of the assailant to brace her hands on the table and hold herself up.

Tears burned down her face like acid rain and when she felt like he was going to smash her head into the table again, (Y/n) tried to push all her weight back and thrust her head back. She moved until the back of her head hit his chest and winded him enough for him to let go.

She needed to get her phone. She had to grab her phone and get out the house.

(Y/n) pushed herself up onto shaking legs and tried her best to bolt. Her hands grabbed one of the chairs and propelled herself forward while she tipped the chair behind her to try and trip him up and add some distance between them. She used the wall as leverage to push ahead and stop from falling when her knees started to buckle and her body felt desperate to collapse down to the floor.

Why couldn't she have been out when this happened? Why couldn't she be out for a walk or at the shops or even visiting her boys down at the station? Why did someone have to pick their house to rob and at the exact time that (Y/n) was home by herself?

She wasn't sure whether she said no or whether she just screamed something similar when the same rough hands clamped down on her arms and yanked her backwards.

She writhed from side to side, screaming as loudly as she thought she could just in case anyone walked past the house or the neighbours could hear her. It might make the burglar think she could hear him if she was screaming. (Y/n) had no idea if he would target her more if he found out she couldn't hear and could barely pronounce properly.

Her arms thwarted out but she couldn't block off the man's fist when he punched her in her lower chest, effectively knocking all the wind out of her and sending her down to the floor.

Where was her phone? Where had she left it? Surely it had to be close by now that she was in the living room.

Her heart plummeted down into her stomach when her eyes locked on the man as he reached out and grabbed the lamp from the side table. Was he going to try and hit her with that? With the right amount of force to her head he could kill her.

She rolled onto her stomach, scraped her feet against the floor and tried to push up again. Her body slumped over the arm of the sofa and she managed to curl her fingers around her phone before her eyes bulged in their sockets and her head started to thud.

He wrapped the lamp cord around her neck.

She couldn't breathe. The blow to her stomach had restarted her lungs which were gasping for air but now with a thin but strong white cord around her neck pressing into her trachea, she wasn't able to breathe at all. She scratched her nails into her neck deep enough to draw blood when she tried to pull the cord away from her throat and lean back into the man as much as she could to relieve the pressure.

Tears streamed down her face, her lower lip wobbled and her jaw clicked as she gasped. Every nerve ignited with terror and her head felt like it was swelling up with air and about to burst.

She wanted her boys. What would they do? Who was she kidding, Eddie and Evan were double her size and weight, they would have no problem fighting someone off and pinning down their assailant.

All (Y/n) could do was try and throw her head back enough to catch him off guard and keep pushing him back with her dwindling energy. She couldn't stop fighting, she had to keep moving. It didn't matter how much energy and oxygen she wasted. Moving was a better option than pretending to faint and hoping in vain that he might not choke her to death.

Her minimal force seemed to prove worthy when she knocked her attacker off balance and her fingers wormed in between her neck and the cord to allow her to pull it off her neck.

Sucking in a deep breath clouded (Y/n)'s better judgement and stopped her from bolting forward. One step and she would have been able to reach for her phone. But with her eyes blocked by white spots and her lungs heaving, she stopped moving.

Hands grabbed at her arms and a body pushed against her back, sending her falling forward.

She knew she screamed that time. Her body fell through the air and her arms coiled into her chest, hands smothering her face for protection when she landed on the coffee table. (Y/n) couldn't tell whether he had fallen into her but managed to stay standing or if he simply pushed her with all his might. Either way, (Y/n)'s shuddering body broke clear through the glass coffee table.

Her whole right side burned and bounced back off the metal legs and frame of the table. Glass splintered into her skin and imbedded into every inch of her right arm, her neck, forehead and her exposed leg.

When her head smashed into one of the metal legs, everything turned black.

***

"Eddie, Buck, my office please."

Eddie's head turned to the right and his hand tightened around Evan's shoulder when Bobby's voice hit his ears.

What had they done?

He didn't like the look in Bobby's eyes or the way he didn't wait for them, he simply turned on his heels and steam-marched towards his office, knowing they would follow in his shadow.

They hadn't done anything to warrant a private chat in the Captain's office. They weren't messing about or not doing their share of the chores around the station and they had done everything as normal on shift today. Neither of them were being unprofessional either. It was in their agreement with Bobby that they were still able to work together and be on the same shifts together, as long as they remained professional. Their relationship couldn't interfere with their work and they both made sure it never did.

Unease rattled through Evan as he grabbed his shirt from the bench and hurriedly slipped it over his head, folding his arms through the sleeves while he jogged to keep pace with Eddie and follow Bobby.

"Everything okay Cap?" Evan finished up the buttons on his shirt before he settled his hands on his hips. Neither he nor Eddie went to sit down because Bobby wasn't sat behind his desk. He was stood to the side of his desk, one hip jutted out against the corner with his hands tense and stretching at his sides.

If Bobby wasn't sat down, he wasn't very comfortable and that meant this wasn't a friendly chat.

"I've had Athena on the phone, there's been a situation at your house. You both needed to go home."

The pair shared a panicked, nervous look between them before they looked back at Bobby. What the Hell did that mean? What kind of situation? Did they have a fire, a gas leak? A flood? (Y/n) was supposed to be home today, was she alright?

"Uh, what… what kind of situation?" Evan wasn't sure he really wanted to ask but they couldn't go home until they had all the details.

"You've had a break-in."

"But (Y/n)'s at home. Was she hurt?" All of Eddie's muscles tensed up until they felt like elastic bands that were going to snap. He could feel goosebumps prickling across his skin and all the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up on end.

"She was attacked, Athena said she won't let the medics near her, you both have to go now."

Before Bobby could usher his hands towards the door, Eddie was out the door and halfway down the corridor. His shoulders squared and rose up, his jaw locked so tightly his teeth were grinding down together and his hands were curled up into fists at his sides, desperate to pummel into anything within range.

Someone had broken into their home and attacked their girlfriend. Whoever it was needed to be found and kept away from Eddie before he killed him. (Y/n) wasn't a threat by any means, she was deaf and that made her vulnerable. Someone had gone and attacked her and neither Eddie or Evan knew how badly she had been hurt. They were lucky she hadn't been taken hostage or rushed down to the emergency care unit.

Evan didn't know what to say when the pair of them stormed out into the parking lot and Eddie jumped in the driver's seat of the jeep. He wasn't in the right frame of mind to drive, but Evan didn't have the heart to tell him to switch. He wasn't so sure he would be much better, when his mind wasn't focused he didn't pay attention when he was driving and he could space out. At least Eddie would remained focused and alert.

Evan clenched his hands together and leaned forward, pressing his knuckles against his lips to try and give him something to focus on but he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Do you think she's okay?"

"Don't." Eddie dug his fingers into the back of his head and scrunched up the short hairs in his fist, tugging until his nails scratched into his scalp. He wasn't having this conversation, not until they saw (Y/n) for themselves and knew exactly what they were walking into.

"She might be-"

"Buck! Look, if they haven't managed to get her to the hospital then she's awake and alert. That's a good thing, focus on that." Suddenly Eddie felt like he had told Chris off rather than having a conversation with his partner and when he glanced over, he saw the stern expression on Evan's face. And the flames burning within his blue eyes.

He reached across after a second thought and curled his hand around Evan's thigh, trying to apologise and give him some comfort at the same time.

Neither of them felt good when they pulled up in the drive. Two police cars and an ambulance were parked out front and the front door was swung wide open.

"Athena!" Evan jumped down from the jeep and bolted across the lawn to reach the woman he classed as a motherly figure. She was stood in the doorway, clearly waiting for their arrival with apprehension in her eyes and her signature sunglasses perched on top of her head.

"What happened?" Eddie pressed a hand to Evan's shoulder and side stepped round him to push his way through the door. He didn't like the look of all these officers floating about his home. There was a gurney laid useless behind the armchair and when he stumbled forward, he noticed the two paramedics knelt down on the floor, getting no where near (Y/n) no matter what they tried to do.

"The perp broke in through the back window, from what I can gather, (Y/n) must have caught him in the act. She put up a good fight. Your neighbour called when she found the front door wide open… (Y/n) won't let any of us near her."

Panic bubbled up in Evan's chest when he took in the state of their home, following Eddie into the living room.

The lamp was broken on the floor next to the sofa, a large dint in the shade and the bulb fractured on the laminate floor. Pictures were knocked onto the floor, pens and paint bottles were scattered in the hallway. And the coffee table was a mess.

Only the dark metallic structure of the coffee table was left standing. The glass counter was blown into millions of tiny shards littered all around the floor. Along with a broken mug, a tub of pens, a magazine and the tv remotes all merged in with the glass. But what caught Evan's eye was the puddle of blood right in the centre of the coffee table. Little crimson raindrops scattered across the glass and led a trail across the floor towards the far window.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Eddie crouched down on the floor, trying to be mindful of the blood splatters and fractured pieces of glass surrounding them.

He held his hands out in front of him and waited until (Y/n) lifted her head so she could see he wasn't some stranger trying to hurt her or move her against her will. He could see the paramedics had given up trying. They were sat in front of the tv with their medic bags at their sides, unable to do anything because they couldn't treat (Y/n) against her will no matter what injuries she had.

Tears stained her face but even more flooded her face when she looked up and realised the two people she had been crying for were finally here in front of her.

When Evan knelt down on her right, (Y/n) dropped her knees down to the floor and let her body fall into him. Her head tucked into his chest, her arms stayed cocooned against her chest and a horrid scream left her lips as she started to hyperventilate.

"Shh, oh sweetheart, shhh." Evan wrapped his left arm around her waist and curled his right arm over her chest with his hand cupping her chin. This thumb smoothed across her jaw and lips and his fingers splayed out on her cheek as he tilted his head down and smothered his lips against the top of her head. He knew she would be able to feel his voice vibrate against her skin when he hushed her. He gently swayed them back and forth, brushing his thumb soothingly against her lip and chin.

Her eyes snapped open and for a second her body pushed back into Evan when a tender hand rested on her knee but she realised it was just Eddie trying to get her attention. He needed her eyes open and focused so they could talk.

Eddie waved his index finger in front of his eye before he pointed at his chest.

Eyes on me.

He curled his fingers into a fist except for his index fingers and held his hands in front of his chest, moving his hands together and back like magnets repelling each other before he pointed at (Y/n) and spoke as he signed. "Are you hurt?"

When she nodded, Eddie's chest tightened and he knelt up straighter while he tried to control his expression and remain calm as if he were on the job. But call outs were never this personal.

"Let me see." He pointed at his chest before he pointed at his eyes and moved his finger from his eye towards (Y/n). He had to see what injuries she had so he could help her. She wasn't going to let anyone else near her and for now, she was wrapped up in Evan's arms which would make her feel safer and calm. And if it was Eddie who was patching her up since he was a medic, she would let him help her.

(Y/n)'s chest shook and hitched with each breath before she uncurled her arms from her chest and held them out towards Eddie like she was waiting for him to slap handcuffs on her. She didn't like the way his shoulders slumped and how he bit his teeth deeply into his lower lip with a grimace.

Before Eddie could reach out for her hands, (Y/n) lifted her shaking hands up to sign.

She pointed her index finger out and waved it up and down before she held both her palms out and moved her hands from her chest out in front of her in a forward motion, then finally pointed her finger at her chest.

He pushed me.

When she started to point and shake her hand, Eddie jumped when he heard Evan growl like an animal. Eddie snapped his head round to see what she was pointing at, thinking for a moment that the assailant was somehow back in the room with them. But then it dawned on him. She was pointing and looking at the coffee table. He had pushed her into the table.

"Check her arm, she's bleeding onto my trousers." Evan's voice was an octave deeper than usual and his breaths were coming out harsh and forced.

He didn't lift his head from (Y/n)'s hair and spoke into the top of her head while he continued to rock back and forth, something Eddie guessed was to calm him down more than (Y/n).

Reaching out, Eddie gently cupped (Y/n)'s wrists and pulled them to rest her hands down on his thighs so he could examine her.

"I'm a medic, I need your equipment. Now." Eddie clicked his fingers behind him towards one of the medics and waited impatiently for them to set the bag down by his leg.

(Y/n) had a deep gash down her arm just below her elbow which stretched down towards her wrist and Eddie could see little pieces of glass imbedded into her skin. He needed to tie a turniquet around her arm to cut off the circulation because Evan was right, the blood was pooling down onto his trousers and had been bleeding out for a while. She might have nicked a big artery or vein in her arm and they couldn't have her bleeding out.

Rummaging through the medic bag, Eddie found a deep blue turniquet band that he laid out on his lap before he looked up at (Y/n). He held his left hand out and made a grabbing fist before he stretched his hands out, stuck his thumb and pinkies out on each hand and shook them side to side.

Hold still.

Eddie slipped the band an inch higher than (Y/n)'s elbow and popped the button into the pin hole as tight as he could until the band bit into her flesh and she winced. It had to be tight to cut off the circulation.

Once that was done, Eddie grabbed a pair of tweezers from the bag and began plucking small shards of glass from around the wound. He was relieved only a few little pieces had imbedded into her arm but he knew a doctor would have to take a closer look so they didn't stitch her up with glass still stuck in the wound.

Evan rolled his lips together and began smoothing his thumb up and down (Y/n)'s jaw when she pushed back into his chest and began to cry harder. Her body shook when Eddie poured saline over the wound and cleansed it with an anticeptic wipe.

"There we go," He mumbled quietly when he packed gauze against the wound and wrapped a roll of bandage around her forearm.

With a deep breath, Evan moved his head down to brush his nose against (Y/n)'s cheek and his eyes followed her right hand when she motioned her finger up and down near her waist. She'd hurt her leg. He moved his hands to cup (Y/n)'s hips and he gently eased her back into his chest while Eddie held the back of her knees and slowly straightened her legs out so he could assess them.

Shuffling forward beside (Y/n)'s legs, Eddie carefully cupped (Y/n)'s face and tilted her head down so he could check the cut on the right side of her temple. It didn't look to have any glass stuck in it and it wasn't deep enough to require stitches. But just as Eddie smile and kissed her cheek, his smile faded and he pressed his fingers beneath (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head back until the back of her head was pressed against Evan's shoulder.

"Did he strange you?" Eddie's voice shook and he was glad (Y/n) couldn't hear the tremor in his tone while he hovered his right hand over his neck.

Pulling back, Evan leaned around to look down at (Y/n)'s neck and tears welled in his eyes when he noticed the thin, discoloured line around her neck. And his eyes followed (Y/n)'s hand as she held it up, pressed her fingertips against her thumb then flicked her fingers out.

Lamp.

He'd strangled her with the lamp wire.

"We're taking you to hospital." Eddie pressed his index and middle finger to his shoulder and swiped his fingertips down his arm in a straight line, then a sideways line across for the hospital symbol.

***

Evan pulled his shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair before he turned around to face the bed. A tender smile formed on his lips and he moved to stand near the end of the bed to face (Y/n) who was perched cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

"I have to go to work now, baby." He curled his hands into fists, held his left hand out and moved his right fist in a circular motion above his hand before he brought his fist down to rest on his left wrist. The sign for work.

He watched (Y/n) push up onto her knees and crawl across to the end of the bed where he was standing. His lips curved up when (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the middle of his chest. The sudden affection was more than welcome and Evan buried his face in the top of her head, breathing in her scent as his palms pressed down on her lower back. His elbows bedded into her waist and he moved to press his cheek against her hair.

He could feel the bandage on her arm rubbing against his neck and it made him shiver. Eddie had wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm every day for the past four days since the incident because (Y/n) had started to scratch the stitches absentmindedly when they itched and she was at the point of tearing them out. A bandage was the only way to stop her from making the wound worse.

When (Y/n) pulled back and tilted her head up, Evan moved his hands from her waist to cup her neck, his thumbs brushing across her jaw before he leaned down to steal a kiss.

He sucked her lip between his teeth and gave a sharp tug, relishing in the way her fingers suddenly dug down into his back.

Evan pulled back when (Y/n) scratched her nails into his back and nuzzled her nose against his before she unravelled her arms from his neck. She shuffled back a small pace so she could hold her arms out in front of her and Evan's face softened as he went back to cupping her hips instead. Waiting patiently for her to sign something to him.

Her hands held out in front of her with her index fingers pointed out and she raised her arms up to her chest, and then tapped her chest. Her hands then curled into fists with her thumbs stuck up as she rubbed her clenched fingers together. Then finally tapped the end of her finger into Evan's chest.

Can I come with you.

Evan's brows creased and his smile started to fade. Why did she suddenly want to come down to the station with him? He was going on shift, not going out to see the team for a night out. And Eddie was still on shift, he would be finished in two hours and would be on his way home to her.

"Why?" Pressing his fingertips to his temple, Evan then pulled his hand down and curled his fingers, leaving his thumb and pinky sticking out.

(Y/n) gulped loudly, flitting her eyes around until they settled on staring at Evan's chest as her fingers curled and she rubbed her hand in a circular motion over her chest. 'Please.'

"Why, baby?" When she didn't answer, Evan's jaw tightened and his shoulders hunched. He stuck his thumb and pinky out again with the rest of his fingers curled up and pressed his curled fingers against his chin and then pulled his hand away. "What's wrong?"

Unease rattled through Evan when (Y/n) simply repeated the same thing again, without looking him in the eye. Deep down she had to know Evan wasn't going to say no to her but she also had to know that he needed to know what was wrong. He wasn't going to ignore this or pretend she was coming down to the station for a visit when he could see the panic bubbling up in her eyes.

Curling his thumb into his palm, Evan kept his hand straight with his fingers tense and waved his hand from his chin in an outward motion before he pointed at his chest. "Talk to me."

A trembling set in throughout (Y/n)'s body when Evan's hands went back to holding her hips and he tilted his chin down to look at her properly. He hated the panic in her eyes but not as much as (Y/n) hated what she was about to sign. She didn't want to admit what was rattling around in her head but the more she thought about it, the more her body started to shake and tears started to trace down the bridge of her nose.

Sticking her pinky out, she pressed her hand into her chest, then stuck her index and middle finger into a crooked position before bringing her arms up and crossing her wrists in front of her.

Tremors set in her body by the time she curled her ring finger beneath her middle finger, left her other fingers stretched out and rubbed her ring finger around her chest.

Tears burned in the corner of Evan's eyes when he watched his girl cross her arms over her chest with her hands on her shoulders, then uncrossed them and held her hands up by the sides of her head into clenched fists.

'I don't feel safe.'

(Y/n) let her arms flop across Evan's shoulders and wrap tightly around the back of his neck when he pulled her into his chest. His hand pressed tightly into her lower back and his other hand moved to cup the back of her thigh. In one swift motion, Evan lifted her up from the bed and hoisted her onto his hips. Pinching her thigh until she got the hint and wrapped her legs around his worso with her heels resting comfortably between his hips.

He pressed his lips to the side of her head, sighing against her skin before he peppered hundreds of kisses to her temple when she quivered and started to whimper into his neck.

He should have seen this coming.

He and Eddie had taken the last four days off work to be home with (Y/n), neither of them wanted to leave her when the moment they came home from the hospital, she had a panic attack on the doorstep.

They had spent the last few days calming her down, helping with the panic she felt whenever she caught something out the corner of her eye. They stopped her scratching her arm, held her when she cried and wedged her between them during the night so she wouldn't wake during the night feeling afraid.

But it didn't dawn on Evan that (Y/n) would be this panicked about being alone. Eddie would be home in just over two hours. They both thought that was a small amount of time and (Y/n) might be okay being alone until he came back. Clearly they had been wrong. They should have thought about this more and prepared for this situation happening.

Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s cheek until she got the hint and lifted her head to look up at him.

"I'll keep you safe." He spoke slow enough that (Y/n) was able to read his lips so he didn't have to let go of her. He tightened his hand around her thigh and leaned forward, burying his face into her neck with his lips sucking a mark into her skin.

He would keep her safe. He and Eddie would look after her and make sure nothing bad ever happened to her again. They hadn't been here when she got hurt the first time, but they weren't making that mistake again. And Evan knew they couldn't stay with (Y/n) twenty-four seven no matter how hard they tried, but they would do their best.

For now, Evan would take her with him to work and she could wait at the station until Eddie's shift finished and she could go home with him.

[okiedokrie]

All Is Fair In Love And War (TEASER)

Summary: Joshua is nothing if not determined. If he wants something, he'll get it; not that he even had to try before. But sometimes, like Icarus, he flies a little too close to the sun. But hey, all is fair in love and war!

Characters/Pairing: Aphrodite Incarnation!Joshua x Fem!Detective!Very Mortal!Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, crack, angst if you really squint

AUs/Trope Info: Greek God!AU, Partners In Solving Crimes, Strangers to Lovers, "time isnt linear" trope, "holy shit im kind of obsessed with you" trope

Word Count: 900+ for the teaser, est. 10k≤ for the full fic

Warnings: Depiction of a crime scene (gore, blood, gun, conspiracy), depiction of drug use, character death (major and minor), smut warnings under the cut when full fic is uploaded

Rating: 18+

A/N: This is part of the The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen collab hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions! This is just the teaser, so if you enjoy it, please consider signing up for the taglist. Thank you!!

In the summer of 2000, Joshua Hong was almost five years old. People always commented on how pretty he was for a kid, that he’d surely grow up to be a very handsome man. 

Which is why it was a tragedy when he died from a freak truck accident.

Yes, Joshua Hong died at the age of five. For like, 10 minutes.

The doctors called it a miracle - a small child should not have survived a whole six of the twelve truck wheels, but somehow he was resuscitated, much to his parents’ delight.

This incident caused two things to change dramatically - Californetherlands now has stricter trucking laws and Joshua woke up to memories of literally being Aphrodite.

Throughout the years, from that fateful summer day to the present day, Joshua flopped back and forth between believing that the memories were just fever dreams and genuinely considering that he may be a reincarnation of the goddess. But ever since he got to hone his powers, he’s been more inclined to believe the latter.

By the age of  28, he has mastered the art of seduction. No, not sleeping with people constantly. It was more so the art of getting people to say ‘yes’ to everything he asked of them.

This made Joshua a very powerful and influential figure in Los Amsterdam; You see, the way he dealt wasn’t by out-witting people or being richer than them. He dealt in favors. If you wanted to be a popstar, he’d introduce you to a famous producer, and get you a record deal that would solidify your career - all for the low, low price of free.

In turn,  you’d owe him, like the many powerful people who owed him large favors.

Joshua found himself in downtown LA, in the club that he owned, just under his penthouse. He enjoyed playing the guitar and performing for his patrons, everyone seemingly captivated by his voice, or his beauty, whichever one caught their attention first. He finally strummed the last chord of his song, enjoying the applause of the crowd as the DJ started to play the usual club music. Just as he was about to retreat to the bar, a feminine voice stopped him.

“Joshua! Hey!” She said, hair bouncing over her new fur coat, jumping excitedly, calling him over.

Joshua smiled widely at her - she was one of the people he had helped start her career as a singer. He didn’t do much other than introduce her to the CEO of her current label, it was her natural talent that got her this far.

“Ah, Diana, good to see you!” He said, going over to meet her in a friendly hug, the kind that didn’t touch at all. “How has being a singer treated you? Any good news?” He said, making small talk with an old acquaintance.

“Oh please,” she started, her new haughty attitude showing, “It’s all over the news! I just got nominated for a Grammy!” She said in a sing-song tone. Joshua just nodded Truth be told, he didn’t really have much interest in pop music, but he did try to match her enthusiasm.

“That’s great! I knew you’d make it big.” he said, remembering the first time she came to him, a girl in clothes that almost looked like rags, now decked out in every designer brand you could think of. “So, what brings you back here then? Surely you already have everything you ever wanted?” He said lightheartedly. Even if all of Joshua’s connections owed him favors, it was quite uncommon for them to come back to him after having achieved their dreams.

“Well,” She said, her old, meek bashfulness coming to the surface. “I just wanted to see you again, to thank you for what you have done for me.” She tucked a hair behind her ear. “And I know no matter what favor I do for you in return, I could never break even for just how much you’ve impacted my life. So, thank you, Joshua.”

Joshua genuinely felt relieved to hear her say that - usually, people’s pride and greed got in the way of them acknowledging those who truly helped them along the way, but as he suspected, this girl still had a soul so pure. “Let's get some drinks by the bar and chat some more, yeah? My treat.” He offered, which she gladly took, the conversation between them flowed naturally, Joshua enjoying her tales of success.

It was an hour after the club closed that Diana decided it was time to head home. Joshua offered to see her off, like the gentleman he was, and so they walked to the sidewalk, her hand around his arm.

Joshua opened the taxi door for her, offering her a few bills in cash to cover the fare, “It was nice seeing you again, hopefully, you’ll make time to catch up with me in the future.” he said through the taxi window.

“Yeah, I hope I get the chance to see you again soon. Goodnight Joshua.” She said as she rolled up the taxi window.

Joshua watched the taxi drive until the end of the block, everything seemingly going smoothly, up until another car intercepted hers in the intersection.

It happened so quickly, too quickly for  Joshua to even register the new car’s window sliding down, holding a gun out to the taxi Diana was in. Gunshots echoed through the street, the sound of tires popping and glass shattering but all Joshua could make out was the sound of two sets of four tires screeching against the concrete. Diana’s taxi collided with a nearby lamppost, the taxi flattening and curling around it.

That was the last time Joshua saw her alive.

Sign up for the taglist here!

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART II

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 9.1k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). explicit sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! here's the second part, finally. i had lots of fun writing this one, happy reading <3

part one

After staying at Cillian's for awhile, you decided to go to the place you had rented. The truth is, you didn't want to leave, but you had already extended your stay longer than planned, and you wanted to give him space with his kids. And you also wanted to give him time to process the event that took place four nights ago in his bathroom. Or you wanted to give yourself time to process it.

At this point, you weren't sure who needed the space more.

It was all very confusing because, yes, you've had feelings for him for God knows how long, but you've squashed them down like a stubborn bug for the sake of your friendship and, most importantly, his family. Those two things were always at the forefront of your mind, guiding every action and decision. But now that his family is no longer a factor and the two of you almost crossed a line, it's hard to ignore those feelings.

Those feelings that crawl up your spine every time he smiles at you or brushes against your hand accidentally. Those feelings also make you feel like the worst person in the world, as if you're betraying his ex-wife and their children by even entertaining the idea of something more with him.

It's all so delicate.

The cottage is nestled between rolling green hills and the glimmering blue of a distant sea. The place is like a warm embrace. The floors are laid with wide, honey-colored wooden planks, their surface worn smooth by generations of footsteps. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, their rich, dark wood adding a sense of history and sturdiness to the space. The walls are painted in a soft, creamy white. The master bedroom is a haven of tranquility, with white linen curtains billowing softly in the breeze from the open window. The bed, with its wrought iron frame, is piled high with quilts and pillows in soft shades of blue and green. It's the best sleep you've had in months.

It rained earlier today. You've stayed inside all day, not wanting to venture out into the wet weather. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the window was a soothing backdrop to your day, but it stopped around mid-afternoon, leaving behind a fresh, clean scent in the air.

Now you’re sitting at the rustic wooden table beneath the pergola, one leg tucked under you, grapevines overhead casting dappled shadows on the weathered wood. The garden around you is alive with color—wildflowers in every shade imaginable sway gently in the soft breeze, and the lavender and rosemary release their fragrant scent into the air.

Bon Iver’s voice drifts softly from your phone, which lies next to your notepad on the table. The music is haunting, its melancholy tones matching the weight in your chest. You’ve been here for hours, or maybe it’s only been minutes—time seems to blur together lately.

The notepad lies open beside you, filled with half-written lyrics, fragments of thoughts and emotions that you can’t quite bring yourself to finish. The pages are messy, scribbled lines crossed out, some words barely legible, as if your hand couldn’t keep up with the rush of thoughts.

You’ve been chasing this dream for so long—touring, recording, performing in front of thousands of people—but somewhere along the way, you’ve lost sight of why you started. The music that once brought you so much joy now feels like a burden; the words that once flowed effortlessly are now tangled up in doubt and frustration. The applause, the fame, the success—it’s all there, but it feels hollow. It feels lonely.

The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water, but you’re too tired to move. You prop one leg up the chair and rest your chin on your hand. You focus on the water, trying to find some solace in its steady flow. But all you can feel is a deep, gnawing sense of unfulfillment, a yearning for something you can’t even name.

How pathetic.

You’re tired, so tired, and the dream that once seemed so bright now feels like a chore.

The door creaks open behind you, and you catch the faint sound of footsteps on the stone path. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. Cillian moves with a certain quietness, a soft presence that you’ve come to recognize. The footsteps grow closer until they stop just to your left.

"You should lock your door," he says, his voice low, carrying a hint of amusement but also concern.

You let out a small, tired laugh, not bothering to look up. "Didn’t think anyone would come by," you reply, your gaze still fixed on the stream; its gentle flow is the only thing that seems to make sense right now.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, his shadow blending with yours. Then he pulls out the chair next to you, the wood scraping softly against the stone, and sits down. You can feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t press, just lets the silence settle around you both.

You hear him shift beside you, and from the corner of your eye, you see him glance down at the notepad on the table. His gaze lingers on the unfinished words, but he doesn’t say anything about them. Instead, he just leans back in his chair, looking out at the water with you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice softer, almost reflective. "I know that look. The one that says you’re miles away, stuck in your own head."

You don't respond, knowing that he understands you more than most people. The music on your phone shifts to another Bon Iver song, this time Beach Baby.

He continues. "You know, sometimes I think about all of it—this life, the fame, the roles I play. It’s bizarre, isn’t it? I spend so much time being someone else, living in someone else’s skin, that it’s easy to forget who I am when the cameras stop rolling."

His words hang in the air, and you turn your head slightly to look at him. His expression is thoughtful, his blue eyes distant, like he’s lost in his own memories. "It’s like… sometimes, I feel more like myself when I’m acting, when I’m being someone else. That's what made me fall in love with it in the first place. I just loved being somebody else. It’s easier, somehow. But then there are those moments, when the lights go out, and I’m just… me. And that’s when the loneliness creeps in."

You nod, understanding more than you’d like to admit. "It’s the same with music, I guess," you say quietly. "There’s this rush, this high, when you’re on stage, when everyone’s looking at you and you’re giving them everything you’ve got. But then it’s over, and you’re left with the silence, the emptiness. It’s like… who am I when it stops?"

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you can see the shared understanding in his eyes. It’s a strange comfort knowing that someone else gets it, that you’re not alone in this feeling of being lost.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the words you’ve been holding back suddenly becomes too heavy to keep inside. "I guess that's why I'm here. To escape. To escape the pressure, the expectations and…just be," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everything is a performance. Everything. When we're out in the world, we're expected to act a certain way, to fit into a mold. We have to edit ourselves. As honest as we try to be, there's always a part of us that remains hidden. And it's exhausting."

Cillian nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "And when you’re alone, you can let go of that and let your mind just be still," he says, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s thought about this a lot. "It’s quite peaceful, isn’t it? But it’s also… terrifying. Being alone with your thoughts, with no distractions, no one to perform for. It’s like staring into a void sometimes."

You swallow hard, the truth of his words hitting you square in the chest. "Yeah, it is. But it’s also when I feel the most myself. When it’s just me, and I don’t have to be anything for anyone. Just… here, in the quiet, letting my mind rest."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The garden around you is alive with the soft sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the gentle murmur of the stream, the distant call of a bird. Bon Iver’s music still plays from your phone—Holocene.

You break the silence. "Sometimes I think about it. I think about letting go of it." It's a terrifying thought but also strangely liberating. You don't know what it means completely yet, but just saying it out loud brings relief. Cillian just looks at you, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy.

It was so easy, existing with him.

In this moment, you feel a little less lost, a little more understood. And as the sun dips lower in the sky, a mix of orange and pink hues, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you thought.

The next day dawns softer, brighter. You wake up with a sense of calm that had been missing for a while. There’s a lingering warmth from yesterday, the conversation with Cillian still playing in the back of your mind. As you sat at the same wooden table this morning, you found yourself scribbling lyrics that flowed easier, more naturally. They’re different—slower, more deliberate. There’s a depth to them that feels right, as if you’re finally tapping into something real, something honest.

Last night had ended quietly. After that heavy talk in the garden, Cillian stayed for dinner. The two of you kept the conversation light, avoiding the unspoken tension. It was there, hovering between you, but neither of you brought it up. Instead, you talked about mundane things and watched Punch-Drunk Love in the quaint living room. He pointed out every little detail he liked in it, and you listened, soaking in the emotion in his voice.

When the movie ended, he promised to see you the next day, and you reassured him it was fine, that you understood his absence. You meant it, even though a part of you always ached for more of his presence.

Today, with that newfound energy, you decided to venture out. An early morning walk turned into a drive to the nearby town. You pulled on a cap and sunglasses—a funny and somewhat ineffective disguise, but it was something. The town was charming, with narrow cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and a relaxed pace. Most people didn’t give you a second glance, and for that you were grateful. It was nice to blend in, to be just another person out enjoying the day.

You wandered through the market, admired the local crafts, and even picked up a few things—a handmade bracelet, a small painting of the Irish countryside. Lunch was at a cozy little café, tucked away from the main street. You ordered a hearty bowl of seafood chowder, rich and warming, with fresh bread on the side. As you sat there savoring the meal, your phone buzzed. It was Cillian, asking if you wanted to grab drinks tonight. You hesitated, your mind running through a dozen reasons to say no, but in the end, you agreed. You wanted to see him again, even if you couldn’t quite admit how much.

Back at the cottage, you took your time getting ready. You set the atmosphere, lighting a few candles, playing some soft music in the background. It felt good to take care of yourself and put a little effort into how you looked. You chose a pair of jeans that fit just right, a black top, and your favorite leather jacket. Casual but confident. A swipe of red lipstick added a touch of boldness.

You didn’t know where the night would take you, but you felt ready.

Cillian arrived right on time, his car rolling up the gravel drive just as you slipped on your jacket. When you stepped outside, he was already out of the car, leaning casually against the door. He smiled when he saw you—a warm, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes flicking over your outfit with an appreciative glance.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, a hint of nerves bubbling up but quickly pushed aside.

The drive to the pub was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You talked about your day, the town, the little things you’d picked up. He told you about his new movie coming out later this year, based on a novella set in the mid-1980s in a small Irish village. There was a comfort in the exchange, in the way your words mingled with the sound of the tires on the road.

When he pulled up outside the pub, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. It was a small, unassuming place, the kind of spot that felt like a well-kept secret. The sign above the door was weathered, the windows glowing warmly from the inside. It looked cozy, inviting.

“Do I need to bring out my disguise?” you asked, amused, as you glanced at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you’re safe here. No one’s going to bother us. I’ve been coming here for years. They don't give a shit about me.”

He was right. The pub was perfect—dimly lit, with a mix of old and new music playing in the background. The crowd was relaxed, more interested in their conversations than in who might be sitting at the next table. You found two empty stools at the bar and settled in.

Close to the drinks. Perfect.

You ordered beers—the kind that tasted awful but somehow fit the atmosphere. Cillian took a sip of his beer, and the reaction was immediate. He groaned, his head falling back as if in defeat, eyes closed as he savored—or perhaps endured—the taste. The dim light from the pub’s old-fashioned fixtures cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that had begun to form. His lips, still wet from the beer, parted in a wry smile that spoke volumes of his disdain for the drink. His brow furrowed slightly as he kept his eyes closed, letting out a deep, exaggerated sigh as if the beer was the worst thing he’d ever tasted.

It was a dramatic performance, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how absurdly handsome he looked even in that moment. There was something endearing about it—the way he could make something so ordinary seem so intense. His dark hair, slightly tousled, fell over his forehead, and you found yourself staring longer than you meant to.

“Bloody hell, that’s awful,” he muttered, finally opening his eyes and giving you a side glance. His blue eyes sparkled with trouble, the corners crinkling as he caught the expression on your face. “You should’ve seen yourself, though. Looked like you were trying to swallow glass.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, please. You looked like you were about to keel over from one sip,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and the amusement in his eyes deepened. “Can’t argue with that,” he admitted, taking another sip with a grimace. “Piss beer, this is. I’d almost prefer water.”

“Almost,” you teased, lifting your glass to take another drink. The foam clung to the rim as you sipped, and you made a point to keep your expression neutral, though you could feel the bitterness spreading across your tongue.

Cillian leaned in a bit closer, his Irish accent growing thicker with each drink. “But then, what would we have to complain about, eh? I think the shite beer is half the charm of this place.” His voice was smoother, more relaxed, and you noticed the way his words seemed to roll off his tongue, rich with the lilting cadence of his heritage. It was endearing, undeniably so, and you found it increasingly hard to focus on anything else.

“Is that what they call charm here? I must’ve missed the memo,” you quipped, smirking as you met his gaze. The clever back-and-forth felt natural, easy, and it warmed you more than the alcohol ever could.

“You’re lucky I’m here to explain it to ya,” he said, leaning in just a bit more, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Otherwise, you might’ve gone your whole life without knowing the joys of terrible Irish beer.”

“Oh, I’m so grateful,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your words, but your smile gave you away. “I’ll add it to the list of things you’ve taught me.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter, and you noticed how close he had gotten. His arm was now resting casually on the back of your seat, and every so often, your knees would brush, those accidental touches sending a small, electric thrill through you. The pub’s atmosphere, once filled with distant conversations and the clinking of glasses, now seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The world outside the booth blurred away, and all that was left was Cillian’s presence, the sound of his voice, and the faint, intoxicating scent of him that mixed with the pub’s woody, earthy aroma.

The more you drank, the closer you both seemed to get, each sip loosening the barriers that had been in place. His laughter grew louder, more infectious, and his accent, more pronounced with every word, sent a shiver down your spine. It was more than just the alcohol—there was an ease between you that you hadn’t felt before, a sense of connection that went beyond the usual playful exchanges.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in even closer. “I think I’m starting to like this beer.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk, feeling a little more brave. “Is that so? Or is it just the company?”

He chuckled, his breath warm against your ear as he replied, “Maybe a bit of both.”

A familiar flutter stirred in your chest—the undeniable pull that you’d been trying to ignore for days. But tonight, in this pub, with its terrible beer and terrible lighting, you decided you didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not here, not with him.

You moved on to something stronger, whiskey that burned going down but left a warmth spreading through your chest that felt as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. With each sip, the edges of your nerves smoothed out, and you felt looser, braver, and a little sexier. You sat on the bar stool with your body angled slightly toward Cillian. The leather of your jacket creaked as you shifted, the red of your lipstick standing out against the dim light. You felt his gaze on you, not just looking, but really seeing you, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck down to where your top dipped, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

His look was hungry, but it wasn’t just that—it was curious, intrigued. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning closer, his knee brushing against yours as he picked up his glass, watching you over the rim as he took a sip. The whiskey seemed to bring out the blue in his eyes, making them sharp and piercing, but there was softness there too, an openness that had grown.

“You know,” you began, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

His eyebrow arched in curiosity, and he leaned in a little closer, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah? That was… what, 7 years ago? At the Globes, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, taking another sip of your drink, the liquid courage giving you the confidence to broach the subject. “Yeah, that’s right. And you… well, let’s just say you weren’t exactly my biggest fan.”

Cillian looked taken aback, a surprised smile curving his lips. “What? I don’t remember it like that.”

“Oh, come on, Cill,” you said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You kind of hated me."

He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t hate you. I just… I guess I had some preconceived notions about you."

“Preconceived notions?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eyes.

He hesitated, looking almost sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I thought you were this… I don’t know, shallow, self-absorbed person. Just someone who was there for the attention, you know?”

You let out a mock gasp, placing a hand over your heart in faux offense. “I’m wounded! I can’t believe you thought that about me, really.”

He chuckled, but there was a hint of regret in his voice as he added, “But I was wrong. I figured that out pretty quickly.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “When exactly did you figure that out?”

“The first time we really talked,” he said, his voice equally soft, the words carrying a weight they hadn’t before. “After I saw you in the hall, crying. I don't know. You were so real, and I realized you weren’t what I thought. Not even close.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Wow, so I had to have a full-on breakdown just to convince you I wasn’t a shallow, self-absorbed diva? Good to know, Cill. I’ll make sure to cry more often around you.”

He laughed, bringing his fingertips to his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Not quite what I meant, but I guess it did the trick, didn’t it?”

You remembered that night vividly, how everything had seemed to spiral downward so quickly. “I was having the worst night,” you said laughing, a slight bitterness creeping into your tone as the memories resurfaced. “I’d just been dumped by the world’s biggest asshole that morning, and then there you were, tearing down everything I said with some esoteric joke.”

Cillian winced slightly, the regret more pronounced now. “Yeah… I wasn’t exactly charming, was I?”

“You were a bit of a jerk,” you admitted, but there was no malice in your words. “But you made up for it with that burger offer.”

A grin spread across his face as he remembered. “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

“Well, I figured a burger with you was better than sulking alone,” you replied, smiling at the memory. “And it was. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was exactly what I needed.”

His expression softened. “I’m glad I asked, then.”

The bartender interrupted your conversation to ask if you wanted another round, and without a second thought, you both nodded in agreement. It seemed neither of you were ready to call it a night. The place was warmer now. As you waited for your drinks, your eyes drifted to the ceiling. Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" played softly in the background, the gentle melody weaving through the low murmur of conversation.

You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that a few couples had begun to dance, swaying gently to the music. There was something so natural, so easy about it, that you couldn’t resist the urge that bubbled up inside you. Turning back to Cillian, who was taking a sip of his drink, you couldn’t help but smile. “Come on,” you said, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Dance with me.”

Cillian raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. He muttered something in reply but you couldn’t quite make it out. It only made you more determined.

“I didn’t catch that,” you teased, leaning in closer as if trying to decipher his words. “But I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, do you, piano woman?” he shot back, his tone light but with a challenging edge.

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “You’re going to say that you don’t dance.”

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re right about that. I don’t.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low, persuasive tone. “I know, but you’ll indulge me anyway.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. Then, with a small, resigned sigh, he downed the rest of his drink in one go and set the glass back on the bar with a decisive thud. Before you could react, he grabbed your hand and stood up, pulling you along with him.

It caught you by surprise, the suddenness of it, especially considering he had just insisted he wasn’t the dancing type. As he led you toward the makeshift dance floor, he leaned in and said with a grin, “You’re lucky I like you.”

You laughed, a loud, genuine sound that felt as freeing as the night itself. “Oh, am I now?”

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, because otherwise, there’s no way I’d be making a fool of myself like this.”

You shot back with a playful, “Well, let’s see just how much of a fool you really are, then.”

As you reached the space where others were already swaying to the music, Cillian took your hand and pulled you in close. You could feel the warmth of his body, the solidity of his frame as he moved with you, the two of you finding a rhythm that was surprisingly in sync. It wasn’t anything fancy—just simple, slow movements to match the easy tempo of the song—but it felt intimate, like you were the only two people in the room.

Cillian leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Did you know I'm a failed musician?”

You couldn’t help but smirk, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“Failed, huh? So, what happened? Couldn’t hack it with the rest of us rockstars?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. "Something like that. I was in a band, actually."

You leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “You? In a band? Color me shocked.”

It was kind of hot, imagining him on stage with a guitar in hand.

"We even had a record deal and everything."

"What happened?"

Cillian’s expression softened as he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. “My brother was still in school at the time, and my parents basically told me I could fuck up my life if I wanted, but I couldn’t take him down with me. So, it fell through.”

As you continued to sway together, the story of his past unraveled between you, each word carrying a hint of regret mixed with fond memories. “Those were great times, though,” he continued, his eyes distant as if he were seeing it all again. “I’d be out late, drinking, playing music in small pubs, thinking we were going to make it big. It was a bit of a rush, you know?”

You could imagine him there, young and reckless, with that same intensity in his eyes that he carried now, but wilder, untamed by the years. “So music was your first love, then?” you asked, your voice soft, genuinely curious.

He nodded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I suppose it was. I had been playing instruments since I was little. There’s something about it that just… gets into your blood. But then, acting came along."

“When exactly did you know that's what you wanted?” you asked, wanting to peel back more layers of him.

His smile turned almost bashful, as if recalling a secret he hadn’t shared in a while. “There was this guy who ran the Cork theater company—had a huge man crush on him. He was brilliant, and I ended up doing a workshop with him. After that, I just pestered him for an audition until he gave in.”

You chuckled softly at the thought of a young Cillian, determined and probably a bit of a nuisance, chasing after something he wanted so badly. “And that was it?”

“Well, there was a drama module in school when I was about 16, 17—during the transition year. That’s when I first got the bug. Ended up starring in A Clockwork Orange. It was sexy, dangerous, unlike anything I’d ever seen. I loved playing someone else, losing myself in the character.”

He paused, then flashed a self-deprecating grin. “There’s not much to look at, but if you give me a minute…"

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his modesty. “You’re selling yourself short,” you teased, leaning in closer, your bodies moving in sync to the music. "Cill, you literally have an Oscar."

“Ah, the Oscar... just a glorified doorstop, really,” he quipped, his tone light but with that familiar undercurrent of humility.

"It's the work that matters, blah blah blah," you joked, rolling your eyes playfully. His eyes were crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Exactly," he agreed, before pulling you into a twirl.

"Do you miss it? you ask, hands circling his neck as you sway. "Music, I mean."

Cillian blew out a slow breath, his eyes growing thoughtful as he considered your question. “Sometimes,” he admitted. "But life has a way of taking you where you need to be, not where you want to be.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warm and heavy, as you mulled them over. Is this where I need to be? The question echoed in your mind, reverberating through the deeper corners of your thoughts. You weren’t sure you had an answer. You were a successful artist, living the dream so many could only imagine, but there was always that lingering sense of something missing, a quiet ache that you couldn’t quite place.

Where do I need to be?

The thought spiraled, unfurling like an endless thread, pulling at the edges of your consciousness. You started questioning everything—your choices, your path, the very essence of who you were. Those words seemed to tap into something deep inside, a reservoir of doubts and desires that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost like you were talking to yourself more than to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, swaying slowly. See, this is the thing about Cillian, he had a way of making you feel seen and understood, even when you didn't fully understand yourself, even without saying a single word.

The warmth of Cillian's arm around you, the subtle way he moved—it all felt so natural, like this was where you were supposed to be. But then, the memory of four nights ago crept in—the way his breath had hitched as you said you weren't going to stop him from going further, the tension that crackled between you both like a live wire.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Heat flushed through your body, a dizzying sensation that made it hard to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at you. A knot formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse.

The memory was like a current running through you, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact with him. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Your mind was swirling with thoughts, the alcohol making you bolder, more aware of the things left unsaid.

"I can't stop thinking about what almost happened the other day."

“What almost happened?”

He let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, his lips dangerously nuzzled in your hair. “Don’t play coy with me, love. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your body reacted to his nearness. “I’ve tried to stop thinking about it,” he continued, his voice a hushed murmur that only you could hear, “but I can’t.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. You wanted to let go of the restraint you’d been holding onto all night, but you were still aware of where you were, of the people around you—even if they weren’t paying you any attention. The thought of crossing that line, right here in the middle of the pub, was both thrilling and terrifying.

But Cillian, sensing your hesitation, didn’t push.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression serious but laced with that familiar smirk. “Wanna head out of here?” he asked, his voice low but with a note of urgency.

You didn’t need to think twice. “Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips before you could stop it.

The night air hit you like a shock to the system as you stepped outside, the cool breeze carrying with it the faint scent of rain. The streets were quieter now, the lively noise of the pub fading into the background. You were drunk, the world tilting slightly with each step, and neither of you could drive.

Cillian pulled out his phone, his fingers deftly dialing the number for a cab. You watched him as he made the call, the way his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke, his voice low and calm despite the alcohol humming through his veins. There was something undeniably attractive about the way he carried himself, even in this moment of mundane practicality.

“What about your car?” you asked, your words slightly slurred but still coherent.

He glanced over at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll pick it up in the morning,” he replied smoothly, his accent curling around the words in that familiar, endearing way. “Don’t worry, love.”

The cab arrived not long after, the headlights cutting through the night as it pulled up to the curb. Cillian opened the door for you, and the two of you slid into the backseat, sitting close together but not touching. Not yet. The space between you crackled with unspoken tension, the thrill of anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

You found yourself playing with your ring-clad fingers, the cool metal a small distraction as the silence stretched out between you. The driver turned up the music a bit, and the opening chords of Inhaler’s "Dublin in Ecstasy" filled the car. The song was somehow fitting, its pulsing beat and haunting lyrics adding to the electric atmosphere.

It started to rain, the droplets tapping against the windows and turning them foggy, adding a sense of intimacy to the small, enclosed space. The outside world became a blur of lights and shadows, the city fading away as the cab sped through the streets. You could feel Cillian’s gaze on you, the weight of it almost tangible as you sat there, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

You turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The music became more intoxicating, the beat syncing with the rapid thudding of your heart. He noticed you bopping your head slightly to the rhythm, and a small, surprised smile crossed his face.

“You know this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you replied with playful confidence, “I know every song ever made, actually.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Is that so? A human jukebox, then?”

“Something like that,” you teased, the conversation light but charged with something more, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

The cab’s interior felt smaller, more suffocating as you neared your destination. When you finally arrived at his place, Cillian paid the driver, and the two of you got out, raising your jackets over your heads to shield from the rain, which had grown heavier. You both ran to the entrance, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night as you giggled like teenagers, the spontaneity of it all making you feel light, carefree.

He fumbled with his keys for a moment, the sound of metal clinking against metal filling the air before he managed to unlock the door. You stepped inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the chill of the rain outside. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint glow of the night sky through the large windows. The shadows played across the walls, casting everything in a soft, almost ethereal light.

You tossed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, your clothes clinging to your skin from the rain. You could feel the fabric sticking to your body, the dampness making you shiver slightly, but the heat in the room—and the heat between the two of you—kept you from feeling cold. Cillian wandered off somewhere for a moment, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, the anticipation almost unbearable.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours, a predatory glint in his gaze that made your breath hitch. He took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing as he asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of something dangerous, “What should we do now?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with suggestion, and you felt a rush of heat flood through you, your pulse quickening. You moved toward him, your steps slow and deliberate, closing the gap until you were inches away. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly despite the bravado in your words.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down to remove a stray piece of hair stuck to your face. His touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent sparks of electricity through your skin, making you feel like you were on fire. His hand continued its path down your arm, and you followed it with your eyes, watching as his fingers traced the outline of your veins, the simple action making your breath catch in your throat.

He moved his hand up to your shoulder, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your top before slowly sliding it down, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of desire and something else—something that felt like shame, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt too good, too right.

His hand slid up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful as he held you there, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. You clung to his black t-shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to steady yourself, but the room seemed to spin around you, the intensity of the moment making you dizzy.

Cillian’s eyes bore into yours, his expression dark and filled with an unspoken promise as he whispered, his voice rough and filled with desire, “Tell me what you want.”

You wanted him—every part of him. You wanted to forget everything else, to lose yourself in this moment, to give in to the desire that had been simmering between you for days. And as his grip tightened slightly on your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath away from his, you knew there was no turning back.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

So he did. He kissed you, long and slow. His lips were soft yet urgent, and you melted into his touch. Your hands found their way to his damp hair, tangling in the strands as you deepened the kiss, savoring every moment. His breath mingled with yours, warm and laced with the faint taste of whiskey, his hands still cradling your face as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished.

But then the kiss deepened, the restraint unraveling as the need between you grew too powerful to contain. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss became more urgent, more demanding, as if he was trying to consume you, to lose himself in you. You responded in kind, your own hands gripping his t-shirt, pulling him closer, wanting more—needing more. The heat between you intensified, the tenderness giving way to something hotter, something that felt like it had been a long time coming.

The rain continued to patter softly against the windows, a distant sound that seemed to fade into the background as your focus narrowed to just him—to the way his hands gripped your waist, to the way his breath hitched when you bit down softly on his lower lip.

You started moving backward, the need to feel him against you overwhelming any thought of where this might be going. Your feet stumbled slightly as you both moved toward the couch, the dim light from the windows casting your entwined shadows across the floor. He guided you, his hands firm and sure, but there was a tenderness in the way he led you, as if he was still holding back, still trying to keep a grasp on the control that was slipping away.

You reached the edge of the couch, and he paused for a moment, his gaze intense as he looked at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. “You're in control here,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with the weight of the question, with the possibility of what was about to happen. "We stop whenever you want to, okay?"

Ever so polite, you thought. You answered him by pulling him down with you, your lips finding his again with a renewed urgency. The cushions gave way beneath you, the soft fabric enveloping you both as you sank into it. His body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding you.

As the kiss deepened, became more frantic, more desperate, you could feel the tension in him—the barely restrained control he was struggling to maintain. His hands roamed over your body, landing on your jeans and slowly playing with the button, a silent request for permission.

"Don't stop now," you teased, your voice barely audible against his lips. He responded by deepening the kiss even further, his hands moving with purpose as he unbuttoned your jeans. He stopped for a moment, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his hands taking off your shoes before sliding your jeans down your legs. He positioned himself between your legs once again, kissing you rough this time.

The couch was vast and soft underneath you as one of his hands traveled up your thigh—still not as high as you wanted it. You let out a needy moan, encouraging him. When his fingers brushed against the edge of your already wet panties, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. He pushed them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. When his fingertips made contact with the wetness of your folds, he groaned too, in a way you found very satisfying.

"I've thought about this…a lot," he murmured, slipping a finger inside you, making you gasp with pleasure. "What you might sound like. What you might taste like. What you might feel like."

He pulled away from you swiftly, and you moaned at the loss. He kneeled down in front of you, his gaze intense as he leaned in to kiss your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled down your panties. You went stiff, suddenly aware of how exposed you were. He opened your thighs a little more, as if he wanted to see more. "I want to make you feel good," he whispered. "Let me taste you."

"Yes," you breathed out.

You couldn't stop looking at him as he pleasured you, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each flick of his tongue and gentle bite made you arch your back in ecstasy, completely lost in the moment. His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He groaned in pleasure, and you opened your thighs wider. His tongue was thorough and deliberate, exploring every inch of you with precision. Your hands grabbed the couch cushions, trying to ground yourself as you felt yourself spiraling into pure bliss. And just when you started to roll your hips, he slid two fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you gasp and moan uncontrollably.

It was too much. Pleasure consumed you as you arched your back violently against his touch and you moaned his name over and over again, letting go. You were drunk on him— his touch, his mouth, his scent—lost in the euphoria of the moment.

"Fuckin' incredible."

Well, yes, fucking incredible indeed. But not as incredible as it would feel to have him inside you completely, filling every inch of you. To reduce him to the whimpering mess he had just turned you into.

Before Cillian could do anything, you sat up and pushed him flat to the floor. You were both drunk and too eager to make it to the bedroom, so you might as well just do it right there on the living room rug.

He grunted in surprise, but his hands quickly found their way to your hips as you straddled him, pulling you closer. You removed your top, your breasts spilling out as you leaned down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as you pull away from his mouth, pulling his black t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

He stopped breathing as you worked your way down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper, and you eagerly slid them down his legs, revealing his growing arousal.

When your fingers wrapped around it—fuck—his skin felt hot and smooth against your touch, his breath hitching. You positioned yourself to take him in your mouth, savoring the taste of his desire as you licked a slow, teasing path along his cock. Cillian let out a ragged moan, his hands tangling in your hair.

You lifted your eyes. He had propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with his lips parted, pupils blown.

You had him.

You took him deeper, relishing the way he arched into your mouth, his groans spurring you on. With each flick of your tongue, you could feel him losing control, surrendering to the pleasure you were giving him. "Fuck, stop," he gasped, his voice strained with need. "I need to be inside you."

“Condom?” you asked, the question hanging in the thick air between you.

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice rough, almost pleading.

You hesitated for just a second. “I don’t mind… if you don’t.”

For a moment, he froze, his blue eyes darkening as they searched yours, as if to make sure he’d heard you right. Then, with a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, he nodded.

You released him with a smirk and sat up, swung over him. You positioned yourself so that his hands were on your hips, guiding you down onto him. The anticipation was electric, every nerve in your body alive with the need to be closer to him, to feel him, completely and without anything between you.

As you sank onto him, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, a low moan escaping from both of you. The feeling of being filled by him sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire between you that burned hotter with each thrust. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you matched his rhythm, lost in the intensity of the moment.

This was going to end you.

His movements became more urgent, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled gasps and moans, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo off the walls. He felt so good, so right. His thrusts became more deep and harsh—you wanted even more. As if he read your mind, he sat up against the couch and kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Bloody hell," he murmured against your lips, both his hands grabbed your face as he looked deeply into your eyes, and you circled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and circling your hips in rhythm with his. Your breasts pressed against his chest, the heat between you both rising as your bodies moved in perfect synchronization. He was close—you were close. His hands roamed your back, your ass, and your breasts, and you threw your head back when his mouth found its way to your nipples.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, "Yes, oh—" you screamed as white-hot pleasure shot through your body, causing you both to reach the peak of ecstasy together. You felt his cock swell, filling you completely as he released with a guttural groan.

The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He had leaned back to the floor, and you had gone with him. He was rubbing your back, and your face was pressed to his chest.

"You okay, love?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You hummed, feeling content and safe in his arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You stayed like that for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, the quiet rhythm of his breathing syncing with yours. His fingers kept tracing those gentle patterns on your back, grounding you, reminding you that you were still here, still connected. The afterglow wrapped around you both, a warmth that made you feel safe, cherished. You could still feel him inside you.

“How bad would it be if we just stayed here?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the moment. There was a part of you that didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest, and you could feel the rumble against your cheek. “Well, love,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I’m not sure how comfortable the floor will be in about twenty minutes, but I’d say it’s worth a try if you are.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Fair point,” you conceded, shifting slightly to look up at him. His eyes were warm, a little teasing, but there was an underlying tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands sliding down your sides as he carefully helped you up. “Let’s get cleaned up. I promise the bed is much more inviting.”

He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted, your legs feeling a little shaky as you stood, still a bit lightheaded from everything that had just happened. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the care in his touch.

Together, you made your way upstairs, his arm draped around your shoulders as he guided you toward his bedroom. The space was warm, cozy, with a lived-in feel that made it undeniably his. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled, as if he’d just gotten out of it before coming to find you.

He led you to the bathroom, where the soft glow of a single light illuminated the space. He turned on the shower, testing the water temperature before gesturing for you to step inside. You did, letting the hot water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the night, though the memory of it clung to your skin. He joined you a moment later, his hands gentle as he helped you rinse off, his touch tender, almost reverent. You stood under the water together, letting the steam envelope you both.

When you were both clean, he handed you a towel, wrapping another around his waist. He left the bathroom for a moment and returned with a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, offering them to you.

“Here,” he said with a soft smile. “This will do.”

You took the clothes, slipping them on. The fabric was soft, worn in, and it smelled like him—woodsy, with a hint of something earthy and warm. You found yourself breathing it in, the scent comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

When you were both dressed, he led you to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside you. He held the blanket up for you, and you slid in next to him, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of his body. He immediately pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist as you nestled into his side, your head resting on his chest once more.

The room was dark, but the faint light from outside filtered in through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. You could hear the rain still pattering against the window, a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy between you. His hand found yours under the covers, fingers intertwining as he held you close, his breath warm against your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm, steady and reassuring, and it lulled you into a state of deep relaxation.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. You don't know for what exactly you were thanking him, but it felt like the right thing to say in that moment.

He responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

You didn’t need to say anything more. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. You both knew that tonight had changed something between you, something profound and unnameable, but for now, it was enough to just be here, together.

a/n: there you have it, i hope you guys liked it!! please like, reblog and comment. i wanna hear your thoughts! and as always, thank you for the support <3

[lovelettersfromluna]

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Sink my teeth in you　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: One stupid dare had changed Ellie’s life forever, and the person she cared about the most was suffering because of it.

an: Shes baaaackk!! The amount of feedback you guys gave me for Still Alive had my jaw on the floor, so here’s part two! This will most likely be the last part of the Still Alive story that I’ll be doing, but if you guys do want more of angsty, hot, demon Ellie, please let me know. I also changed my format a little bit, so let me know if you guys prefer this or how I was writing before. I hope you all enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed the last. (Also this one isn’t proofread either sorryyyy)

Warnings: smut! Will be a lot softer and more loving than last time but still…smut. Mentions of blood (don’t worry I don’t get too graphic I can’t handle that shit either), Ellie smoking because bby is stressed and having an identity crisis, angst, use of strap (r!receiving), pet names, shy!reader standing up for herself, Ellie is shamelessly in love with reader, mentions of…spells and rituals?? It’s mainly from memory of Jennifers body and things im making up myself, let me know if I missed anything pleaseee.

You can read part 1 here!

Ellie Williams was fucking dead.

At least she was pretty sure she was dead, she truly couldn’t tell. She felt…different, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed. She was so out of tune with herself, and her thoughts and her actions, it was like she was standing behind a wall while someone else controlled her, and it was fucking scary.

She did know however, that she sure as hell wasn’t human anymore.

It was fucking ridiculous, and she felt like she was losing her mind, but she was pretty sure she knew how this all happened.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was her typical Friday night, hopping from bar to bar with a group of her party friends. They were drinking too much, smoking too much, and she felt herself slowly slipping away from reality with each sip of her drink that she took. She fucking needed it, classes were kicking her ass, and her grades were dropping..

And it was becoming harder and harder to pretend like she wasn’t in love with you.

It was fucking pathetic, because you’ve been her best friend since you guys were like…8 years old, and she’s always felt butterflies whenever she was around you. But she let it go on too far, her feelings settling in the pit of her stomach every time you laid your head on her shoulder, or held her hand whenever you were nervous, and before she knew it she wasn’t 8 years old with a crush anymore, she was well into her 20s and falling in love.

She hated it because she felt selfish, she felt like she was taking advantage of your kindness, of your friendship.

So, she went out with her friends and she got drunk, as one does when they’re hopelessly in love with their best friend.

She was following behind her group of friends, already visiting the fourth bar of the night, and Ellie was mindlessly staring at her shoes hitting the ground, her fists balled up in her pockets, images of your pretty face flashing through her head, when Dina spoke up.

“Let’s go into this one! I think there’s a live band here tonight” She gasped, squinting her eyes as she tried to read the horribly written sign outside. Ellie frowned softly as she tried to as well, leaning in a bit to get a better look at what it said.

Live performance tonight! Violet Skies!

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows as she read, blinking a few times before she sighed, noticing that her friends were already stumbling into the bar without any further questions. “Corny fuckin’ band name…” she mumbled our, taking one more look at the sketchy looking bar before she walked in.

Whoever the hell it was, sure as hell wasn’t popular. The bar had ten people max, and most of them were already too belligerent to even comprehend that there was a live performance. She sighed, making her way to the bar and ordering herself a glass of whiskey.

Her friends were crowded near the stage, creating some what of a make shift audience for the band that would be playing soon. Ellie was miserable, she was getting to a point where she wasn’t even having fun anymore.

She just wanted you, in your comfy little home with your comfy blankets and your sweet smelling lotion that you wore every night. She wondered time and time again why she chose a cold, empty bar over your warm inviting home and even warmer embrace.

She was a coward, that’s why.

She was more than half way done with her drink far too quickly, when the band began to set up for their show. She turned her attention towards them, squinting her drunk eyes a bit as she watched them all tune their instruments and adjust the microphone.

Before she could even realize what was happening, she was being tugged throughout the bar by her arm, by Dina. Ellie let out an annoyed groan, letting the girl drag her around like a rag doll. Once Dina had brought her with the rest of the group in front of the stage, Dina gave her a gentle nudge. “M’not letting you sit at the bar all night like a creep…maybe these guys are good!” She beamed, causing Ellie to roll her eyes gently.

Dina smirked gently as she leaned into her a bit, her voice dropping. “I caught a glimpse of the lead singer…she’s hot”. Dina’s words made Ellie scoff, because Dina knew that she was sulking over you right now. And there wasn’t even any reason to, Ellie was simply the queen of self sabotage.

Ellie opened her mouth to complain, but before she could, the show was starting.

The bright lights that settled onto the stage hurt Ellie’s head, and they weren’t even directed at her. She was just fucking annoyed and she wanted to leave but she also didn’t know where to go because she couldn’t escape her fucking thoughts. And now this godforsaken band was walking on stage and she couldn’t care less and..

Her breath gets caught in her throat, because Dina was right. The lead singer is hot.

Because she reminds Ellie of you.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think this girl modeled her entire appearance after you. She’s got the same pretty hair color as you, and the corner of her lips turn up the same way yours do when you’ve got that cute little smirk on, and it’s making Ellie feel warm inside because she’s bringing her the same comfort that you bring. Ellie finds that she can’t take her eyes off of her.

The band sucks, and they’re out of tune and the songs are cheesy and it sounds like radio music, but Ellie doesn’t fucking care, because you’re literal twin is standing in front of her on a stage, swaying her hips in a tiny skirt, and she’s too drunk to apply any common sense she has in that moment. She pretends it’s you on stage, putting a show on for her.

It doesn’t help that she’s eye fucking Ellie the entire time.

It burns her because she wonders what you’d look like if you looked at her that way, not some carbon copy, but you, her best friend, her girl. She’s licking her lips, her eyes burning from a lacking of blinking as she stares at your clone, and in that moment she feels like this is the closest she’ll ever fucking get to the real thing.

Dina notices immediately, and she smirks gently. She’s just as drunk as Ellie, and her better judgment has flown out the window far too long ago, so she doesn’t stop herself when she leans into Ellie again towards the end of the set and whispers to her.

“I dare you to try and get it in with her”

Ellie truly didn’t need to be told twice, because adrenaline was already pumping through her veins and she was fucking horny, and she seriously had nothing to lose at this point.

Or so she thought.

She smirked softly as she eyed the lead singer, downing the rest of what was in her glass and passing it to Dina.

The bands set had ended a few minutes after that, and the little smirk that the lead singer gave Ellie, followed by the silent calling with her fingers when she walked off was all she needed to carry out the dare that she was given.

The bar was small, with little security, so it was fairly easy to navigate her way to the backstage area. She made her way out of the bar, the warm breeze wafting onto her face as she circled around the bar so that she was at the back of it.

And as if they shared a brain, there she was. She looked even more like you in the moonlight, and it made Ellie’s heart beat faster. Her back was pressed up against the brick wall of the bar as she brought her cigarette to her lips, smirking the second she saw Ellie making her way over to her.

“Didn’t think you’d come…” She purred out, trying desperately to sound sexy. If Ellie wasn’t so gone, the attempt would’ve made her cringe. But the alcohol and weed in her system made it so that she even sounded like you, so she took it.

Ellie smirked softly, leaning against the wall as she stood next to the girl, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as her eyes shamelessly roamed down her body. “With that little show you were putting on for me? I’d be crazy not to come…” she sighed out, her voice raspy.

The girl giggled softly, her cheeks turning pink as she turned her body so that she was facing Ellie before she nodded her head towards the building. “Wanna see my dressing room?” 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ellie had the girl pressed up against the dark walls of the dressing room, if she could even call it that. It was a small room with a couch against the wall, a make shift vanity and a tiny rack with a few hangers on it, but Ellie didn’t care.

Because in her drunken state, a pair of soft lips and a warm body pressed up against hers was just what she needed. The little moans and whines that came from the girl were urging her on, and it was finally giving her the distraction from you that she needed so badly.

“Fuck…you taste so good..” she moaned out. Ellie knew she was lying, she tasted of weed and whiskey and her kisses were harsh. It made Ellie wonder how many times she’d told someone these things before.

Ellie groaned, gripping the girls waist and walking backwards until they had reached the couch. The girl pressed her palms against Ellie’s chest, pushing her back to lay on the couch as she straddled her.

Without missing another beat, her lips were on Ellie’s again. Ellie placed her large hands on her hips as she began rocking her back and forth, letting her grind down on her body. The moans that she let out were sinful and Ellie wanted more, she needed to hear more.

When the girl broke the kiss, she expected her to take her top off, or stand up to take her skirt off, or anything other than what she actually did.

She was straddling Ellie, and Ellie moaned out softly as she let her hand trail up her body, grabbing and squeezing as she waited for her to do something else. The girl opened her mouth and she began speaking, but Ellie couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Her words sounded like they were in a different language, one Ellie couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion. She sat up a bit, proving herself up on her elbows as she stared up at the girl. “What…what are you doing?” She mumbled out, but she was only met with a hand pressed to her chest and pushing her back down to lay on the couch.

The girl continued speaking, reaching behind her and grabbing a small dagger, and Ellie’s heart began beating faster and faster.

The girl got louder with each passing word she spoke, and Ellie was starting to think for a moment that this was all a bad dream and she’d wake up soon.

But she never did.

The girl inhaled deeply, holding the handle of the dagger with both hands before she lifted it over her head, biting her lip almost nervously as she stared down at Ellie.

“We won’t make it on our own in Hollywood…you’re our ticket there…sorry” she mumbled softly, and Ellie’s eyes went wide.

“Are you fucking crazy!? What are you-“ her words were cut off by the dagger piercing her through her chest.

She doesn’t remember anything after that.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

That night was the last normal night of Ellie’s life.

Because after all of that, she woke up gasping for air in the woods. She had no idea where the fuck she was or how long she had been there, but she did know that whoever the hell put here there, thought that she was dead.

When she got up, she had the worst headache of her entire fucking life. The throbbing was so loud, she was sure if anyone was standing next to her they’d be able to hear it too. And she was so fucking hungry. She placed a hand on her stomach to try and calm the pain she felt, but it didn’t help.

She felt empty, drained, like all of the life had been sucked from her body, and she was merely a corpse left to rot in the woods.

Corpse…death…dying.

That girl tried to fucking kill her.

It was all coming back to her, but when she looked down at the area of where the girl had stabbed her, it was completely gone.

And Ellie was sure she was having a bad fucking trip at that point.

All she knew, was that she needed to get home and fucking eat something.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was like she was suffering the worst hangover of her entire life.

No matter how much she ate, she couldn’t shake the empty feeling that settled at the pit of her stomach. She tried everything, cleaning out her fridge, her pantry, she even splurged and bought food from her favorite fucking take out place.

And nothing.

She felt like she was going to pass out every time she stood up. She was weak, and frail, and there wasn’t enough medicine to get rid of the pain that riddled her entire body.

And to make things worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She always did, you were almost always on her mind, but this was all different.

The hunger she felt in her stomach was almost identical to the hunger she felt for you. It was like she couldn’t separate lust and basic human needs, and she felt like she was going to lose her mind if she wasn’t able to touch you soon.

But she couldn’t, not in this state. She had to wait to see you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ellie learned a lot within the week that she took off of school.

She learned that food wasn’t enough. After about the third day of trying to satisfy herself with the second set of groceries she went through, she was convinced that food just was not going to cut it.

Then what the hell would?

Her answer came to her when she was at the store, trying to buy more medicine for her everlasting headache.

The fluorescent lights in the pharmacy were making her dizzy, everything around her just entirely too loud, and it was making her angry.

But for a moment, it was all clear.

The girl standing next to Ellie was so unsuspecting, bending down a bit to find whatever medicine it was that she needed, living her life just as everyone else was doing in the store.

But Ellie couldn’t ignore the way that her mind was clear, and for a split second, her headache was gone and the hunger she felt subsided.

Until it all came rushing back again once she stepped away.

She wasn’t sure what it was that ignited her to follow the girl, or what it was that was even prompting her to continue doing so outside of the store. But before she knew it, her new instincts were taking over and she was pouncing the girl outside of her car in the dim parking lot.

So yeah, Ellie finally figured out what it was that she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Because after she finished the girl, she felt stronger, like she had been born again. Any pain and suffering that she was experiencing had disappeared the second her teeth sunk into the girls skin. It was like euphoria, and she wanted more.

That week was spent entirely by herself. Researching and trying to understand what the hell had happened to her. She figured she wasn’t a vampire, because she’d watch those twilight movies with you and she was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t turn into stone if someone killed her, and she was breathing and walking around just as much as any other living person so she wasn’t necessarily dead.

But she was stronger, radiant, she was sure her skin even had a new fucking glow to it that wasn’t there before. So something had changed.

After digging through countless libraries, she finally found a book on spells and rituals. That’s how she settled on the fact that she indeed was used as a sacrifice.

A fame spell to be exact. Ellie couldn’t decipher what spell it was exactly that had been used on her, but from what was physically done, and the final words that the girl spoke to her, she narrowed it down to that.

Dealing with…her new way of life was..strange.

Because her strength would last for a few days after she…ate, and she would feel like she was on top of the world. But then, she’d crash.

After reading further, she figured out that she had to feed every other day now. She tried her best to put it off as much as she possibly could, but Jesus was it hard.

The books she had about the spells and rituals also told her, that her hunger could only be satisfied when in the presence of her true love, and that made Ellie’s cold, dead her skip a beat.

Because she knew it was you, and she knew that she needed a lot of time before she could face you again. The hunger for you was still there, no matter how much she fed on others, she only wanted to be with you, and that scared her.

Ellie wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she ever hurt you.

And that’s why she waited so long to see you, wanting to be at her strongest before she was setting foot in your home and into your embrace. She told herself she could do it, that it would all be easy.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

She was wrong.

Because come Monday and you’re sitting in the courtyard, the sun dancing on your pretty skin, soaking it up beautiful, your skirt flowing in the wind, and Ellie just wants to whisk you away and keep you in her bed until the end of time.

But she gets closer and she notices that you’re sitting with Amber.

It was stupid enough that Ellie had gone too many days without feeding, and she was already irritated to begin with, but now you were sitting there looking like a fucking goddess and it wasn’t for her, you weren’t waiting for her and it made her want to rip someone’s fucking throat to shreds.

Ellie finds that she can’t really control herself or her actions these days, especially when it’s been a while since she’s gone…hunting..it’s like she’s suddenly seeing red at any minor inconvenience and she’s too weak to even care about the white hot rage that’s surging through her body.

And that’s how you end up crying in front of her in the library, and Ellie feels like fucking shit about it.

Once her head is clear and she isn’t tucking starving, shes texting you and she’s trying to apologize but it’s all left in vain, because she’s sure at this point you’ve either muted her messages or gone all out and blocked her, and it’s making her want to cry because don’t you know that you’re all she fucking wants? Can’t you see how she feels about you? She’s suffering without you and it seems like you don’t even fucking care.

Ellie finds herself getting upset again, and the worst part is, is that you aren’t even there to defend yourself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It had been a few days since the party, and Ellie was once again suffering.

You’d gone completely silent after it all. You gently pushed her off of your body, put your clothes on and walked out of the room to go home.

Ellie had sat there with a confused look on her face, scurrying around to grab her own clothes as she kept trying to talk to you, see what was going through your head, anything.

But you said nothing, you simply got dressed and left, and it left Ellie panicking.

Because she felt as though she just got you back, and she finally felt okay with herself and with you when she was around you, kissing you and holding you. But you were slipping through her fingers just as quickly as you were falling into bed with her, and she didn’t know what to do.

So, she gave you space.

She ignored any impulse that she had to text you, to show up at your apartment with your favorite flowers and a stuffed animal of the stupid cartoon you like, but it was fucking hard, and she couldn’t help but feel like this was the end between the two of you.

She started taking things a lot more serious when you didn’t show up to school.

Never in all of your friendship did you let anything make you miss school. Even when you were 11 and Ellie gave you strep and you almost passed out during gym class, or when you refused to miss a final even after a dentist appointment and you were all loopy on laughing gas, to this day Ellie doesn’t know how you passed a test in that state.

But bottom line was, you never let anything get in the way of your education. So Ellie was really fucking worried when her first lecture of the day was going on and all she could focus on was your empty seat that was next to her.

After class, she had raced to your apartment. She had given you more than enough time to figure out what you wanted from her, and she decided it was time you let her know.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Her hand was banging on your door, the same exact way it was the first time she revealed herself to you after she had…changed.

She knew she had to be persistent, she knew that the sudden silence from you was only going to grow more space between the two of you if she didn’t do something about it.

So she stood there for about ten minutes, knocking on your door and calling out for you until you’d decide to call the cops, or open up for her.

“Baby come on…we…fuck, we need to talk. Either you let me in or I’m letting myself in” her tone was stern, and from the other side of it you stood there, staring at it, and you knew you should take her seriously.

Ellie almost passed out when she catches sight of you, and it feels like she hasn’t seen you in years. Your eyes are puffy, and your lips are swollen from all the times you’d rub your sweater sleeve against your nose, and as sick and twisted as it may sound.

Ellie thinks you look so fucking pretty.

But she can’t ignore the way her heart tugs at the tiny sniffle you let out. You’re standing in front of her, and you have that cute little pout on your lips, and your arms are wrapped around yourself like you’re protecting yourself from her and she feels like she’ll break at any second because this is her doing, she’s the reason you’re like this.

She let out a soft sigh and she’s pushing the door closed before she’s pulling you down to sit on the couch to sit with her. She winces slightly because you still won’t look at her, and she feels like she’s already lost you.

Her voice falls lower, just above a whisper as she brings her hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Bambi…you’ve gotta talk to me…we…we can’t just…do what we did and not talk about it”

She feels like the worst person in the world because the second she speaks, she can already see your chin wobbling and she hears the way your breathing becomes uneven and she knows it’s coming, and she wishes she can do something to stop it.

When you finally look up at her, your eyes are red, eyelashes clumping together from your wet tears and it looks like you’ll crumble at any second.

“You’ve changed Ellie…you’re not the same and I…I want my best friend back”

Your words hit her deep within her chest, like the dagger the girl at the bar drove through her, but worse. Because you’re pleading with her for something she can’t give you, and it’s the first time in her life and in your friendship that she feels like she can’t provide you with everything you’ll ever need.

She inhales deeply, her hands dropping to take yours in her own before she gives a slight nod. “I have changed…and I…I’m not sure if I can go back to the way I was before baby..” her voice is low, and her words make you scoff.

“Typical, you’re just dancing around my words at this point Ellie. What is going on with you? What are you not telling me?” You whimper out, your voice breaking between the sobs and tears you’re holding back for your own sake, and her own.

She sighs, because she knows she can’t keep this up anymore.

With a deep inhale, she give your hand a squeeze, and she’s telling you everything she’s experienced within the past few weeks.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You’re slowly pulling your hands away from hers when she finishes, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at her as if she had three heads.

“Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie felt like she was going to cry, and you were staring at her with furrowed eyebrows, looking so fucking angry. For the first time since all of this had happened, she realized that everything she was telling you probably sounded like a load of bullshit.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe and…and I know you probably don’t trust me all that much right now. But I don’t even fully understand it all myself I just…” she stuttered out, feeling more and more hopeless the longer you stared at her with that dumbfounded look on your face.

Your best friend was sat in front of you, telling you that within the past two and a half weeks, she had someone been used in some…fame ritual, and because it went wrong, she was now some…some monster.

You let out a tired sigh, you were over it, all of it. You didn’t know what to think or what to feel, and in all honesty, you felt like the stories that Ellie were feeding you were all a sorry excuse to get rid of you.

“Look Ellie, I’m not an idiot…okay? And I’m not a child..if you…if you don’t wanna be friends anymore you can just say that. You don’t have to make up some elaborate story to try and soften the blow” you sighed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You slowly got up, letting her hands fall from your lap as you made your way to your bedroom, leaving her behind.

Ellie panicked, the tone in your voice told her that you were tired, and you were over her. The fact alone that you thought she could ever end your friendship made her heart tug.

The only reason she’d ever do that, is if she ever grew the balls to tell you how much she loved you.

She quickly got up from the couch and followed you into your bedroom. You were laying there, cuddling with Angel as you turned on your TV, acting as if Ellie wasn’t even there.

Ellie frowned, crawling onto your bed grabbing your thigh gently so she could spread your legs, settling between them as she stared into your eyes desperately.

“Im not lying! I wish I was fucking lying but I promise you I’m not” she groaned, grabbing your hand and holding it against her chest. “What can I do to prove it to you?” She mumbled out, staring into your sad eyes.

Angel caught her attention, and she noticed the way the cat that was curled into your side stared at her, eyes slanted and hair puffed up.

And it gave her an idea.

Her eyes widened a bit before she pointed at the cat. “Angel! She used to love me, and now she won’t even step near me. Don’t you think that means something?” She pleaded.

You frowned softly as you looked down at your cat, realizing then just how strange she had been acting.

Angel loved Ellie, she actually went with you to the adoption center to get her when she was just a baby. She crawled towards the both of you, meowing happily the second Ellie brought her hand down to pet her, and you knew that she was the one you’d take home with you.

Even when Ellie would visit, she’d be eager to jump into the girls lap.

But that had all gone through the window, and you started to think about when she started acting this way, but you were only left with the night that Ellie had came to you after her disappearance.

You blinked a few times in thought as you stared at your spooked cat before you shook your head, looking back up at Ellie.

“That doesn’t prove anything, she could just be…going through a phase or something” you shrugged, and Ellie was letting out a frustrated groan.

She looked down at her body, trying to find anything that she could physically show you that would prove to you that she wasn’t lying, and that this was all the truth.

Then she remembered. Her fucking fangs.

They freaked her out when she first realized she had them, and the sort of weighed in on the whole vampire theory that she had at first, but she remembered that she had them.

And that was all the proof she could give, so it had to be enough.

She inhaled deeply, staring down at you before she rested a hand on your soft thigh. “I’m going to show you something, but I need you to know that I’m not going to hurt you, and you don’t need to be afraid of me…okay?” She nodded slowly, trying to get you to understand that she was serious with what she was.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stared up at her from your spot against your plush pillows, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “Ellie I don’t have time for this, and really tired. Maybe you should just-“ she quickly cut you off.

“You know my better than anyone else does…please…just give me five minutes” she begged, her big green eyes staring into yours.

Your heart skipped a bit as she stared down at you, and you felt like you had no choice but to hear her out. You inhaled deeply before you gave her a gentle nod, urging her to carry on with what it was she had to show you.

She nodded with you, sighing gently before she closed her eyes, and focused. She had only tried pushing them out on her own once, the times before that her body simply took over and did it for her. She found that she had to make her mind completely blank, only focusing on bringing the new set of teeth that she had down.

Soon enough, her gums began to feel sore, and she felt her teeth shift a bit as the sharp fangs pushed out and settled where her canines would be. Once she was sure they were down completely, she opened her mouth for you to see.

Your eyes widened as you stared at her, sitting up a bit to get a closer look. The memories of her on top of you came flooding in, and what you wrote off to be a drunken hallucination was sitting right in front of your sober eyes.

Ellie Williams had fucking fangs.

You couldn’t stop yourself from crawling closer to her, settling on your knees as you reached out and grasped her chin gently, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you stared into your friends mouth.

“They were real…” you whispered out, more so to yourself than to her. Ellie furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at your words, letting you stare into her mouth for a moment longer before she grabbed your wrist and closed her mouth. “Wait, you saw them?”

You nodded slowly as you stared at her. “At the party..when you…when we finished…I saw them. But I just…assumed I was just seeing things because of how drunk I was” you mumbled out softly before you licked your lips, staring down at her hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Okay fine…so what if you are telling the truth. What does this all even mean? What are you trying to tell me?” You sighed out, your voice soft and tired.

Ellie sighed, her thumb rubbing your soft skin gently before she shrugged. “I’m not totally sure what it means…but I do know that I feel…I feel better when I’m with you…I feel normal, like I don’t even need to do any of that stuff to feel okay…” she sighed out, staring up at you. Her green eyes sparkled against the dark light in your room, and the sight alone had you in shambles.

She sighed out gently, her hands cautiously going to hold your waist gently before she continued on.

“I’m tired of pretending..I know I’m different now but I…..I…” she stuttered, her heart beating a mile a minute. She was scared, scared that she’d lose you forever.

But it was worth the fucking risk.

“I’m in love with you.” She confessed, her voice low as she stared up at you, hands massaging your waist gently as you stared down at her.

And you realized there were two things you had thought you imagined, but were real.

One, your best friend had fangs.

Two, she told you she was in love with you.

You froze, because you didn’t know what to say. In all the years of knowing her, you’d dream about being with her in this very moment, wishing she’d utter those words to you every night before you went to sleep.

But now that you were here, you didn’t know what to say.

Ellie continued massaging your skin, giving you as much time as you needed to respond to her. When a few seconds passed and you were still silent, she continue giving your waist small, reassuring squeezes.

“Don’t worry if you don’t feel the same way Bambi, we can still be friends-“ she was cut off by your lips pressed against hers.

Ellie groans softly, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. She has yearned for it the moment you broke apart the last time she was with you, and having you there with her, pressed up against her, it was like having her air fill up with lungs again.

You moved to straddle her lap, your tongue pushing into her mouth in a passionate kiss as you wrapped your arms around her neck and held her close to your body.

Ellie feels the best when she’s pressed up against you, but you haven’t said a word since she’s confessed, and she can’t let this carry on if you don’t feel the same way.

It takes everything in her to pull away from you, and the little whine you let out when she breaks the kiss doesn’t make it any easier, but she’s pulling you away by your waist and she’s staring up at you, trying to catch her breath.

“Baby…baby wait I…I can’t…I can’t keep going if you don’t feel the same way..” she breaths out, and she thinks you’re going to come to your senses and tell her to go home, that you were done with her nonsense

But you’re not, your smiling softly down at her and she swears she can see the hearts floating around in your eyes. They’re twinkling and glowing and they look like pools of love and you honestly don’t even have to say it back, but she’s desperate to hear those words fall from your lips.

“You’re such an idiot…of course I love you too Els…always have…” you whispered out, toying with the soft ends of her hair at the nape of her neck.

You hum softly, one of your hands coming from around her and tracing her features, dancing over her freckles as if they were tiny constellations, there just for your viewing and no one else.

“I…we need to talk more about…what happened to you…but I believe you” you nodded, affirming to her that you truly did believe her.

And she feels her heart beating out of her chest, because not only do you believe her, but you loved her, and she feels like it’s all she needs to keep her going for the rest of her days.

She’s nodding eagerly, pulling you closer as she agrees. “Anything, I’ll tell you anything you want. I promise” her words were genuine, and you’re smiling softly as you stare down at her, feeling so comfortable and at peace in her lap, with her arms wrapped around you, you can’t even think for another minute that the story she’s telling you is far fetched.

You nod with her before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Before we do that…I’ve missed you, Ellie..” you sigh out against her ear, and she feels a chill run up her spine. Her hands are roaming your body in an instant and she’s nodding eagerly, almost looking silly as she gently lays you down into your bed.

“Fuck…please…let me show you how much I love you baby…come here…” she moaned out, already far too eager to touch you, feel you, love you.

You whine softly underneath her, staring up into her eyes lovingly before she leans down, catching your lips against hers in a loving kiss. Her hands are traveling up your body, slipping under your shirt and cupping your boob, twisting your nipple between her calloused fingers, and it’s pathetic but you’re already a moaning mess.

Her other hand comes up to grab both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. She breaks the kiss, staring down at you and moaning softly, she sounds so pretty you think you could cry. Your last memory with her like this was so fuzzy, and rough and hard to see through.

But this is all crystal clear, and it’s making your heart burst with love. The way she’s staring down at your body as she pushes your sleep shirt up to get a good look at you is so intense it almost makes you shy away, but this is Ellie, your Ellie, and you don’t trust anyone as much as you trust her.

Ellie bit her lip softly as she stares down at you for a moment longer before she’s helping you sit up, tearing off both your clothes and her clothes and tossing them in different directions of your room until your both naked and pressed up against one another.

You feel something press up against your soaked core and you furrow your eyebrows as you look down, only to see Ellie’s pink strap pushing against you. You look up at her, opening your mouth to ask her about it before she’s cutting you off with an answer.

“I…was hoping I’d be able to make love to you tonight…wore it just in case you didn’t kick me out…” she mumbles out sheepishly. And once again, your heart is bursting with love with her because she’s such an idiot sometimes, but it’s okay because she’s your idiot.

You pull her closer, pressing your lips to hers before your hand is trailing down between you and you grab the base, pushing it towards your soaked entrance with a soft hum.

“Shut up and fuck me already..” you moan out, and she doesn’t need to be told twice.

She pushes into you, and the moan you let out is enough to have her moaning with you. Her tattooed hand comes down to grip your hip gently as she steadies herself before she falls into a slow rhythm, moaning at the way her strap is rubbing up against her clit, and at the way that you’re moaning beneath her.

“F-fuck! Ahhhh Ellieeee…mmm-oh my god!” You whine out, and she’s nodding her head to urge you on further, her own words cut off by her moans and hissing.

“That’s it…that’s my fucking girl…o-oh fuck! My good girl…god I love you…fuck” she’s just as much of a mess as you are, and she’s positive she won’t last long. You’re staring up at her with those big heart eyes and she knows she’s a goner.

Because this is what she’s always wanted, to make you hers, show you how much she loves you and that you were it for her, you were her endgame, forever and always.

Her eyes are hungry and they’re eating you up, because you look like a work of art to her right now and she doesn’t even want to blink in fear that she’ll miss a fucking second of you.

“Love you so much…mmm fuuuuckk…gonna cum Els..please…please make me cum” you’re begging her, and it’s making her moans grow louder, the two of you babbling incoherently as you both confess your undying love for one another.

Ellie nods, speeding up her pace. “That’s it baby, such a good girl for me- fuck! I’m gonna fucking come. Oh my god I’m-“ she moans out, and just from the look of her throwing her head back, her fucking fangs on full display for you, looking like the prettiest goddamn demon you’ve ever seen, you cum with her.

There’s little sparkles dancing around you, at least that’s what it feels like. Ellie tossed her strap to the side once you both caught your breath and cleaned you both up, and she put you in your favorite sleep shirt, and a pair of spare boxers you had for her laying around, and you both simply lay there, holding each other in your dim room.

And it feels complete, because it’s the first time that you can actually feel her there with you, and not just pretending to be there. And Ellie feels it too, she feels satisfied and she feels like she’s normal again, even though she knows she’s not.

A few moments pass as you’re pressed up against her, your fingers tracing small shapes on her collar bone before you break the silence.

“So…are we talking like…resident evil vampires? Or…Edward Cullen vampire?” And your words makes her chuckle softly before she sighs, finally giving it some thought for a moment before she hum.

“We’ll find out together baby…”

[heaven4lostgirls]

Can you pretty pleaaassse write for regulus black x reader angst

Where they were friends and got along really well and because they're both pureblooded there families arranged marriage for them. But then regulus gets paranoid and starts to think badly of you and thinks that you were only ever nice to him so that your parents would arrange marriage. And he thinks that you hold the same awful pureblood beliefs as both of your parents and he is afraid to say anything about it incase you tell his family that he doesn't really believe that muggles are lesser. Then regulus is quite distant and mean in your marriage and he eventually comes to his senses when he realises how upset you are and how much his distance hurts you and he can hear you crying yourself to sleep

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

warning: angst, regulus is a bit of a dick but he comes around ! miscommunication (i’m sorry✊)

summary: request above

authors note: hi! sorry this took forever, i’m really bad at keeping up with requests but i hope you enjoy this, i always say im hoping to get back into writing but it’s always touch and go, my mental health isn’t great a lot of the time and uni just piles on so much more, hopefully you guys understand ! 🫶🩷

regulus wasn’t used to people sticking around, he had been abandoned by the only person he ever truly cared about and left to fend for himself. which was why he assumed when news of his engagement to you was announced by his parents, at a shared dinner party for the sacred 28, you two would simply…co-exist. never fully acknowledging the others presence yet acquaintances at best.

what a shock to his system it was when he grew to know what a wonderful person you were, never abrasive or hostile like his parents, never boastful like most of the pureblood families he knew, instead you were the embodiment of everything he never knew he wanted, a calm to the raging angst inside of him he couldn’t quell after sirius had left, and that alone left him scared more than any of his parents threats to present him to the dark lord as a servant.

you two had formed a quick friendship due to the circumstances surrounding your fast paced engagement, you were set to marry next august and your engagement had only been announced in april. regulus had no problem performing his duties to his family, however this one came with little to no reluctance from either of you as feelings of love and respect blossomed from the friendship you two shared.

however, as time passed, regulus could slowly but surely feel his walls he had fought so hard to build up, crack. he couldn’t fathom why someone like you would feel so comfortable around him, how you somehow managed to worm your way under his skin like no one ever could, not even sirius.

except as time flew by, he had somehow found some of that “gryffindor courage” as james potter always declared, to tell you about his feelings, emphasizing that if you wished, he would never bring up again if you did not reciprocate and you two would still move forward together into marriage as friends.

to his surprise, you were much more welcoming to his feelings than expected, you two had shared a small kiss as you leant your forehead against his and claimed “i was just waiting for you to see me.”

since you two were already a couple in the eyes of the public, the only people he had really had to tell was your shared friends. as expected, they all reacted joyfully to the news and you both carried through the rest of your year no longer pretending to be in love, but actually falling into it.

however, at the beginning of your 6th year, you could tell something had shifted between yours and regulus’ dynamic. no longer was he patient and comforting, instead he was judgmental and fast to anger. some part of you knew it had to do with his parents but you didn’t have the heart to push your questions onto him.

as time passed you watched as he distanced himself from you, pushing away your touches, rejecting your offers to hang out, blowing you off when he would eventually agree. you could only handle so much of his behavior before you eventually broke when telling your friends.

“i don’t know what to do anymore, it’s like walking on eggshells whenever he’s around because im scared of him snapping at me for breathing too loud” you vent to your friends as you place your hands on your eyes to try keep the tears at bay.

“how longs this been going on y/n?” pandora asks softly as she shares a concerned look with lily. you blubber out as answer that sounds like “a couple of months” as tears leak past your palms.

“i can’t keep doing this” you emphasize to them both, “and you know i can’t break up with him because we still have to get married-“

“break up?!” lily questions surprised, “you can’t be serious y/n.” she says as she places a hand on your shoulder.

“i think you need to talk to him” pandora says again as she smiles softly at you as you look at her with tear filled eyes.

“…what if he doesn’t want me anymore?” you whisper, too afraid to say it out loud in fear of it coming true.

“oh love” lily coos as she drags you into a small cuddle with her and pandora, “you’re gonna need to ask him to know that y/n” she whispers as she rubs your back.

you sigh heavily and nod before looking at the both of them. “okay” you concede as you try and form some sort of a plan to confront regulus, your anxiety spikes at the thought of him not wanting your relationship anymore, you couldn’t imagine a marriage with the man you loved where his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

the next day, you planned to corner regulus at the library before dinner but as you walked up to his table, you heard the voice of not only regulus, but barty as well.

“reg, you know you’re hurting her by ignoring her” barty says with a sigh as you pause behind a bookshelf near the table to eavesdrop.

“you know better than i, that i can never be with someone who thinks the way she does…its disgusting” regulus says with a sneer but you can hear how disappointed he is by the statement.

disgusting? he thinks i’m…disgusting? what is he even talking about? you don’t think you’ve ever done anything remotely bad enough to be called disgusting.

“how do you know she thinks like them?” barty implores and you hear regulus sigh, “you’ve seen how she acts when the sacred 28 talks about the muggles” he says and you frown, part of being a child of one of the sacred 28 meant you had to act your part, regulus knew that better than anyone else. so why was he suddenly judging you and telling barty about your issues when he couldn’t even give you the time of day?

“i don’t know if i can marry someone like her” regulus says again and your heart drops. someone like her, you repeat in your head, every insecurity you ever worked through, comes back in tenfold from that sentence alone. you stumble on your feet from the flashes of tears and heartache from all your deepest points of sorrow.

you shake your head and straighten your back before reminding yourself, if he wants a true pureblood wife, that’s what i’ll be. quiet, docile,…perfect.

your wedding approaches faster than you can imagine, dress fittings, bridal party dresses and events all pass with a blur. never fully there, you encompass a state of numbness.

regulus and all your friends notice how you slowly fall into the facade you usually have in front of your parents, instead this time, it never breaks in front of them.

regulus waits for you to come to him, to seek his comfort like you have so many times before, but it never comes.

he spends his nights worrying about you, questioning if it’s something he’s done, you’re still sweet and loving to him, just…more hollow than you were before.

you embody the perfect pureblood princess and he couldn’t hate it more, he hears from people around you how you’re not sleeping, always coming to class in a perfect face of makeup everyday when you usually only used skincare, in beautiful dresses for hogsmead days when you used to use comfortable clothes.

he tries to talk to you, to question why you’ve somehow flipped the switch out of nowhere, but they go unanswered.

the day of your wedding, he can see past the makeup, your sunken in eyes and red eyes. he still places a soft smile on his face as you stare passively into the distance, never making eye contact with him while saying your vows.

the distance between the both of you grows larger as he starts to believe that this was the life you truly wanted, a prince and princess, a couple born out of need not out of love, arranged perfectly to fit the narrative of pureblood royalty.

however, one night he falls asleep later than usual and hears you cry into your pillow, small pleas of being good enough for him as your body shakes with small sobs. he resists the urge to reach out to you in fear of you not recieving his touch well.

he lies awake as he hears you say, “i’m not like i was before, please let him love me now, oh merlin please” you whisper with clenched hands and eyes that leak tears. his heart breaks at the thought of you existing to please him.

he had seen how his mother had done the same for his father, how she turned cold and abusive with no comfort and love from her partner, how she pushed her self hatred onto her children. how that pushed her eldest son to run away.

he spends the next week racking his brain for what he could’ve done for you to think that way before he realises that the summer after his 5th year, his parents had implored him never to give you anything more than the bare minimum because nobody could be trusted. he remembers pulling away from you and pushing you away in fear of you using him for his fortune.

the idea that his parents had made him internalize that you would never love him just for him, you were moving into this marriage not because of your shared love but because of necessity. his heart drops out of his chest as he realizes all of this must have translated to you and that he now had a lot to make up for.

he plans out meticulously how to get his wife back and slowly but surely, he does. it starts with small things, a single flower that you had told him once you liked the smell of on your nightstand, a pair of earrings you remarked look beautiful when window shopping. a handwritten letter telling you goodmorning and his favorite things about you in your bag before class.

your initial confusion morphs to anger at the thought of changing yourself all for him to want you to go back to the self he called repulsive. you don’t respond to his initial attempts to woo you, but as weeks and months pass, he doesn’t give up.

he speaks to you, really speaks to you, asking you about your day, how he can help you when you’re not feeling well, what you need whenever he leaves the house, small compliments about your cooking or how the colour of your dress matches your eyes.

you two start sharing small good mornings and good nights when going to bed, which then translates to small hand holding or shared touches between each other. the ice around your heart slowly but surely starts melting whenever he’s around, you quickly become accustomed to his quick kisses on the cheek whenever he leaves the room or house.

he holds you at night as he whispers sweet promises of never letting you down again, grasping your face to look into your eyes whenever he compliments you to let you know how much you mean to him.

your heart is now warm and full at the thought of his presence, no longer a shell of yourself, slowly but surely healing with his sweet actions.

[alicentofhightower]

the dragon and the crab

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!celtigar!reader

synopsis: boys seem to catch your eye more, as of late. you wonder if that’s the reason why you’re helping this drunken fool of a prince.

includes: drunk aegon, he’s actually not that bad here. so sorry if this is ooc this is my first time writing a oneshot for him!

WC: 1.5k

a/n: this was written with ty tennant’s aegon in mind because it’s set during laena velaryon’s funeral, but you can envision tgc’s aegon too i don’t really care. i did not proofread this so im sorry for any mistakes, i literally just wrote this on my phone in bed because i miss aegon and im bored. i might write a part 2 idk

-

The first time Aegon sees you, he cannot help but wonder why you take such a liking to Helaena.

Laena Velaryon’s funeral had been an uneventful one. A bore, to be honest, but his mother would smack him if he’d ever voiced that thought aloud. He’d never known the noblewoman well. Honestly, his mind was more preoccupied with the looming thought of his upcoming wedding.

It was tradition for Targaryens to be married to relative. They’d practiced it for hundreds of years, long before the doom of Old Valyria. His mother had always seemed so intent on practicing the customs of her Andal forbears, and Aegon wished she’d been the same for his marriage.

Deep down, he knew why Helaena would be his wife. It was to keep her close to Alicent. If she’d been wed to some fat lord in the Riverlands, or a foolish one from the Reach, it would make no difference; there was no real confirmation that she’d ever be kept safe. His mother would not have another Aemma be made of her only daughter.

“We have nothing in common,” Aegon complained, constantly having to brush his silver waves away from his face. The wind from the beach was relentless.

He stood off to the side next to Aemond, away from where you yourself sat next to the Princess. She seemed to speak in riddles, with the way she mumbled of ‘spools of green and black’, but you did not mind. You could tell she was of a sweet nature.

Helaena handed you another shell to hold, her fingertips tracing the texture of it. “She’s our sister,” interjected Aemond.

Everything about Aegon was improper. The way he could not seem to let go of his cup of wine for even a minute, the way his eyes wandered towards the skittish maids, even down to his posture; hunched and lazy. “You marry her, then,” The elder prince said, his fingers loose around his chalice. If he wasn’t careful, he’d probably drop it, make a fool of himself as he always had.

“I would perform my duty. If mother had only betrothed us.” Aemond did not speak out of genuine desire for his sister, only his yearning to be the firstborn son. To be given the duties of his unwilling brother.

“If only,” He scoffed.

His blue eyes traveled to where you were, listening closely to every word of his weird soon-to-be wife. Aegon did not pay much attention to his Old Valyrian lessons, much less his history, but even he could recognize which house you were from by the dress you wore; ivory and scarlet, the colors of House Celtigar.

Your house was a Valyrian one itself, though far less proud than the one of his own or the Velaryons. You wore a veil of mourning to honor the late Lady Laena, but he could see the earrings you adorned beneath it; crabs, closely resembling your sigil.

You could not hear what the young princes spoke of, but your eyes had averted over to them occasionally, though most of your attention was paid to Aegon. His face was scrunched together as he studied you, trying to figure out why you’d ever willingly be in the company of Helaena. Mayhaps you were just as off-putting as she was.

Blooming into womanhood, you could not help but take notice of boys your age; Aegon himself was quite handsome, though lustful and foolish, and your mother had personally warned you to stay away from him on the way to Driftmark. It only made you want to talk to him more.

Soon enough, Aegon made his way over to another servant, grabbing the pitcher on the platter she held and pouring himself more Arbor gold… away from where you were. You wondered if that’d be the last you saw of him.

-

It wasn’t.

Sleep had escaped you. Taking a stroll outside was far more appealing than tossing and turning in your bed, so you’d wrapped your robe around your nightgown and snuck out of your chambers.

You almost gasped when you saw him. There he was, at the end of the stairs, drunk and hiccuping with his eyes closed. He sat against the stone of the railing, head drooping and hands still grasping his goblet tightly.

“My Prince?”

No response.

Descending down the steps, you poked his hunched shoulder. He did not even start. It took a harsh shake of his forearm to wake him, and Aegon threw his head back when he did, smacking it against the marble behind him.

Aegon’s pale hand flew to cradle the back of his skull. He hissed, features squeezing together as he let out a sharp breath. It reeked of wine, and he appeared to be startled that he hadn’t been smacked yet. “Grandsire?” He asked, eyes still scrunched shut.

“No,” You said softly. “It’s just me, my Prince.”

His eyelids shot open. It took a moment for him to recognize you. “Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be abed?”

Gods, maybe your lady mother was right about avoiding him. He’d already begun to irritate you, and you’d been speaking to him for less than a minute. “Shouldn’t you?”

His head lolled to the side, falling to rest on his shoulder. “What will you do? Tattle on me to my mother? I’ve already been scolded today,” He grumbled, his words slightly slurred.

Really, you should just leave this fool of a prince alone, act like this never happened, and climb back into bed. You won’t. It’s normal for men of his age to indulge in their vices, but some part of you tells you that this is wrong; that he shouldn’t be out here in the cold night, slumped into a mess of his own limbs. You feel bad.

Boldly, you reach forward again, grasping his wrist. “Come on,” You say to Aegon, your tone softer. “I’ll help you back to your chambers.”

“I’m too tired.”

He yelps when you yank him up, stumbling forward, his hands scrambling to grab your shoulders to keep him upright. “You should not treat a Prince so roughly.” Despite his words, Aegon allows you to wrap an arm about his shoulders, guiding him forward.

His eyes are wide as he looks down at you, seemingly trying to figure out why you’d pour this much time into someone you don’t even know. There’s a flush becoming all the more apparent on his face, and unbeknownst to you, it’s not because of the wine.

You’re sure there will be a scandal made out of this. An unmarried young noble-lady taking King Viserys’s firstborn son, drunk, back to his chambers during the hour of the owl? Certainly the maids will begin to whisper false tales of your relationship with the Prince, and your father will reprimand you on the ship back to Claw Isle. He might have you married even sooner to dispel them. You cannot find it in yourself to care.

“This way,” You whisper, walking towards where the innermost hall is, where the royal chambers are. Aegon’s steps are uneven and irregular. If you’d not been holding him, he’d probably have fallen twice already.

He’s even more beautiful under the torchlight. Soft cheekbones and plush lips, he’s the very image of his mother, though he certainly does not act like it. Your lips almost part at the feeling of his nose nudging against your cheek, though you attempt to ignore it.

He’s drunk, you tell yourself. Pay no mind to him.

The knights on patrol raise their brows at the sight of you when you make your way past them. An awkward position you’re in. Both his and your arm are wrapped around the other’s shoulders, and his knees are bent so he can be at the level of your face. He’s not even looking forward to where you’re trying to go, his eyes analyzing the look on your face.

He was so talkative when you woke him. You wonder why he’s gone quiet, but reason it to be that he’s exhausted. “What’s your name, again?” He sputters.

He nods rapidly when you tell him it, as if he’ll remember it on the morrow.

Finally, you make it to his room; even the doors to it are grand and tall, befitting one of his status. Yours are farther away from his, in the corridors practically across the keep. It’ll be a long walk back.

You find you don’t know what to say. “…Well, good night, my Prince,” You say softly, letting go of him to let him stand by himself. He wobbles.

Aegon turns to leave, but whips his head around before his pale hand can grasp the handle of the door, his eyes darting around the features of your face. He wants to remember you, it seems.

“You won’t stay?” He can barely pronounce the words correctly, let alone stand up, choosing to lean on the door behind him to keep his balance. Somehow, it’s both endearing and pathetic.

Your cheeks flush at the mere idea of following him into his bedchamber. What was he thinking?

“No, my Prince. It’s best I leave you be.”

Aegon nods solemnly at that, tongue running over his slightly chapped lips. He bows his head in thought, then raises it again, a peculiar glint in his eye that you cannot decipher.

“….’s Aegon. Just Aegon,” He says, quiet, like it’s a secret only the two of you know.

“Good night, Aegon.”