#maybe i liked it when she had a bit of evil in her heart..............................................................................

[armed-saphire]

the way people are preferring the remake ashley door scene over the original is making me crazy

[incognit0slut]

hi! what about this: some time after spencer comes home from prison, he finds some toys reader had bought for herself since he'd been in prison for so long. he tells reader that if she was needy enough to do anything without him, she can do it again, without him. he orders her to show him what she was doing when he was gone. you can definitely include edging and/or overstimulation as well as degradation, of course if you're comfortable with that <3 also, if it's not a problem, since it would be a sub/dom dynamic there could be aftercare included, but it depends on what you feel like writing.

anyway, thank you and i hope you're having a great day 🌺

(18+) Dom Spence x fem reader. 1.3k. Sex toy. Squirting.

Spencer forces you to give him a show when he discovers your secret.

-

Spencer wasn't trying to be evil, he really wasn't, but there was a twisted satisfaction witnessing your vulnerability. Maybe it was the sense of power over you, or perhaps you were simply captivating, but whatever the reason, he found himself drawn to the sight of you lying in bed, legs spread apart.

He watched intently as the toy disappeared into your cunt, moving in and out, each thrust met with the tight clenching of your walls. He never imagined he'd witness you finding satisfaction with anything other than him, yet, if he were honest with himself, the sight aroused him more than it angered him.

You had been going at it for a while now—no, he forced you to do it. Though "force" might not be the right choice of word, because as embarrassed as you were by his discovery of the toy you forgot even existed, the pleasure clouded your mind, and you found yourself enjoying giving him a show far too much to stop.

“Is this what you’ve been up to while I’ve been gone?” Spencer taunted, leaning back in the chair positioned at the foot of the bed.

Your response caught in your throat as your climax edged closer. With a sense of urgency, you increased the speed of your hand, plunging the toy in and out of your dripping cunt with increasing desperation, the echoes of your arousal filling the room.

“Answer me,” he urged. “Keep your eyes on me and answer the question.”

With a shiver running down your spine, you forced yourself to meet his intense gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

“I… I needed…” you stammered, struggling to form coherent words amidst the rising tide of sensation.

“Needed what?” he pressed.

You swallowed hard. “I needed… to feel something,” you admitted. “I needed… release.”

“And you couldn’t wait for me?”

“I… I’m… sorry,” you confessed, each word punctuated by a gasp as the toy drove you closer to the edge. “I couldn’t… without… you…”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the toy. Then, his voice cut through the air. “Do you need me now?”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his piercing eyes. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice raw with longing. “I-I need you.”

His lips curved into a knowing smile, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners. “Hmm,” he hummed, his voice low and teasing. “That’s too bad because I’m quite enjoying the view.”

You squirmed under his gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable yet undeniably aroused by his control.

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. “I can’t… I can’t take it anymore. I-I need you.”

A flicker of something akin to sympathy crossed his features, but it was quickly replaced by a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I know you do,” he replied. “But where’s the fun in giving you what you want so easily?”

You bit your lip, torn between frustration and arousal. “Please,” you pleaded again, your voice barely a whisper, “Don’t tease me like this.”

His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. “You’ll have to beg a little harder than that,” he whispered. “Show me how much you need me.”

Your heart raced at his words, the intensity of his gaze igniting a fiery need within you. Without hesitation, you spread your legs further apart, the movement allowing him an unobstructed view of the way your cunt clenched around the toy, your arousal evident in the slickness coating it.

A satisfied groan escaped his lips at the sight, his hand instinctively finding its way to his strained arousal beneath his pants. “I’ll tell you what,” he muttered, gripping himself. “Make yourself come and I’ll give you what you want.”

A whine broke put of you. “I…”

“If you were needy enough to satisfy yourself without me, you can do it again now.”

Your heart was beating fast against your chest, yet you found yourself nodding.

“Three times,” he continued. “Give me three orgasms.”

Your breath hitched at his words. “Three?” You squeaked.

“Three,” he affirmed, his voice low and commanding.

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of anticipation mingled with apprehension. The thought of achieving such intense pleasure under his watchful gaze both thrilled and intimidated you. But the promise of his reward spurred you on, driving you to arch your back and chase after your first orgasm.

It came fast and fierce, crashing over you with an intensity that left you breathless. Your toes curled in ecstasy, and a blush spread across your cheeks as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure, knowing that he was watching your every move.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “Give me another.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, and you whimpered, determined not to give yourself a break. The faster you obliged, the quicker he would fuck you. So you pushed yourself even further, ignoring the burning sensation as the toy thrusts in and out of you relentlessly.

And then, as it hit that very deep spot inside you, your legs began to shake, spreading even wider in response to the overwhelming sensation. The pleasure surged through you like a tidal wave, from your head down to your toes, and his name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper.

He grunted as he rubbed himself through his pants. “One more, sweetheart, you can take it, just one more.”

You gasped, still reeling from the intensity of the previous climax. “I… I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “I know you can.”

Despite the lingering waves of pleasure still washing over you, you steeled yourself for one final effort. Gritting your teeth, you resumed the frantic pace, driving the toy deep inside you.

The sensations intensified, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breath grew ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as you neared the edge once again.

As the pleasure built within you, there was a sudden, unfamiliar intensity to the sensation. It coiled in your stomach, sending a surge of urgency coursing through your veins. You whimpered softly, a mix of desire and apprehension knotting in your stomach.

You knew what was coming, and so did he, because his grip on his cock tightened, a hunger burning in his eyes. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Give it to me, baby. Just let it out.”

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a gasp, you finally surrendered, feeling a rush of fluid escaping your body as you reached your high. The force of the liquid pushed the toy out of you, and you gasped, your body arching involuntarily in response to the overwhelming sensation. Your back arched, your head thrown back, and your eyes closed, letting the intense pleasure consume you entirely.

Every nerve ending seemed to tingle with ecstasy as the wave of release washed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. With a shuddering breath, you collapsed onto the bed, spent and satisfied, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your climax.

In the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, you felt his presence beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. You steadied your breathing as he pulled you closer, his lips pressing gentle kisses against your sweaty face.

“See?” he murmured, his voice filled with pride. “I knew you could do it.”

With a contented sigh, you nuzzled closer to him, reveling in his warmth. “Will you fuck me now?”

He laughed, the sound rich and full of affection. “Maybe we should wait for a while, let you calm down.”

You pulled back and gave him a look. “Spencer.”

With a playful smirk, he leaned in to pepper soft kisses along your jawline, trailing down to your neck. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent shivers of anticipation through your body.

And then he slipped off his clothes, and when he finally settled between your legs, pushing his throbbing cock into your dripping walls, you cling onto him desperately. Because nothing could compare to the pleasure he brought you, leaving you feeling whole and complete in a way that no toy ever could.

[targaryenluvs]

OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

[harryslittlefreakk]

obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Last Call

Patrick "Paddy" Feld (Speak No Evil) x female reader

MDNI - 18+

pairing - Paddy x female reader

summary - working at a small pub, you meet a sexy mystery man. He's just another customer - until he's not

w/c - 1400+

t/w - unprotected sex, Paddy is a tiny bit rough (he's a trigger warning by himself), mirror play?

a/n - not sure what it says about me that this morally bankrupt character is the one who broke me out of my year+ long writer's block, but here we are. For the purposes of this, reader has no idea what Paddy gets up to in his spare time

Starting over was such a pain in the ass. You never pictured that you would be here, 30 and divorced. It had come as such a surprise that your head was still reeling. Deciding on a clean break, you had packed up your belongings, taking little more than the essentials and your beloved cat, and set off, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

Settling in a little village in the West Country, you found yourself adjusting to your new life a lot easier than you expected. The pace was so much slower there compared to the city, and you quickly found a job bartending in a small pub. You loved working nights, listening to the stories exchanged by the locals. You mainly dealt with the same group of regulars, and their welcoming attitude was helping you to come out of your shell.

You had first noticed him come in late one Saturday night. He was the kind of man who commanded everyone’s attention. He was loud and outspoken, his voice and laughter carrying throughout the room. You overheard some of the other customers call him Paddy.

You were immediately attracted to him, his demeanor so different from your ex that it was intoxicating. He always flirted with you, but you never took it to mean anything since he was that way with everyone. The more you were around him though, the more he began to consume your thoughts. Picturing the way those muscular arms would feel wrapped around you, how his stubble would feel against your thighs when he was between your legs…

There was just one problem - he was married. His wife was always with him. She actually seemed really nice, which only served to make you feel more guilty about the amount of time you spent fantasizing about her husband. That’s all it ever could be though - you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You and your vibrator had become best friends. You could at least have him in your head, right?

Maybe that was why you were so flustered when you realized that this particular night he came in alone. “Hey Paddy, what can I get you?” you asked, trying to keep your expression neutral. It was becoming harder and harder to be around him, and you didn’t know what to do about it. “Surprise me,” he replied, watching you as you poured him a drink and slid it over.

“Where’s Ciara?” you asked. An expression you couldn’t quite judge crossed his face before he replied. “She’s not feeling well and decided to stay home.” Your heart sped up at the thought that you could spend time with him alone. And you did - when you weren’t busy with someone else, Paddy kept you entertained with endless stories and conversation. The other patrons began paying their tabs and heading for the exit. Realizing that just you and he were left in the building, you checked your watch. You couldn’t believe the time.

“Last call. Can I get you anything else?” you asked as you dried the glass in your hand. The old jukebox in the corner was belting out Black Velvet. It was a little too perfect. He looked at you, his expression suddenly serious. “I do want something else, but it’s a little off-menu. “What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, having no idea where this was going.

“Darlin’, what I want is you .” Your stomach felt like it dropped out of your body. Is this really happening?? “B-b-but what about Ciara?” you stammered, barely able to string a sentence together. “It’s fine, occasionally we dine out. Helps keep it fresh. She doesn’t care,” he replied, standing and walking his way behind the bar toward you.

You couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the deafening sound of your heartbeat pounding. He stood in front of you, and your brain froze. All you could think was that he smelled so damn good, so manly, and it made your mouth water.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as much as I do,” he said. The look on his face was half smile, half cocky smirk, and it made you want to rip his clothes off. Instead, you just nodded, throwing the towel you were holding to the side. Quickly making sure the door was locked and flipping over the closed sign, you returned to him.

He leaned in, tracing his fingertips down your jawline, kissing you slowly at first. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. Backing you up against the bar top, you could see the lust in his eyes. He looked almost hungry.

The heat inside you was already building as his tongue licked a line down your collarbone. Throwing your tank top off to the side, he traced the lace edge of your bra and groaned. “Mmmm, so beautiful darlin’,” he said, unhooking it and throwing it behind you to land on a bottle of whiskey. The chill in the air immediately hardened your nipples, which he took turns taking inside his warm mouth. Your brain felt like cotton candy, all coherent thoughts leaving you as he expertly sucked and bit at you.

Removing the last of your clothes, you stood bare before him. “This seems a little one sided, Paddy,” you teased as you stripped him of everything he had on. Once he was also naked and you really looked at him, you sucked in a breath. He was even more gorgeous than you thought possible.

He wasted little time with foreplay, turning you around and bending you over a nearby stool. He teased your entrance, but you didn’t think anything could prepare you for his size. He took his time, letting you adjust to the sweet stretch of him filling you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips. You nodded, and then all bets were off. He slammed into you, fully enveloping himself in your warmth. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he grunted as he worked your body over. “S-s-s-sorry, it’s been a while,” you managed to choke out between thrusts. “Feels so fucking perfect,” he replied, his hands roaming all over you. You could already feel that familiar pressure building in your abdomen, impending bliss already blooming inside you.

One hand gripped your breast and the other reached up and wrapped around your throat. Applying slight pressure, he pulled your upper body taut. There was a giant mirror behind the bar. “I want you to look up. Watch yourself while I fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. Fingertips dug into your throat just a little tighter, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

You didn’t recognize the version of yourself you saw in the mirror’s reflection. Disheveled hair, sweat beginning to drip down your face, you looked happy for the first time in a long time.

“Paddy,” you moaned, bucking your hips back into him even harder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you’re going to watch me make you cum,” he growled.

You had never felt more exposed, or more aroused. Your ex would never have dared to talk to you this way during sex. Paddy was unlocking some primal side to you, and you were loving every minute. His hand moved away from your throat, allowing you to breathe fully again. He started rubbing slow circles on your clit. Contrasting with the fast pace at which he was still thrusting into you, it felt like all your nerve endings were on fire. You felt yourself about to tip over the edge. Still watching your reflection in the mirror, your orgasm washed over you in a wave. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone,” Paddy said, fucking you through your high. While you were still clenching around him, he also came, filling you full.

Almost collapsing against the bar top, your body felt like jelly. He slowly pulled himself out of you. He threw his pants back on and retrieved your scattered clothes, handing them to you. “I’ll never be able to look at this place the same way again,” you said, cheeks burning as you glanced at the mirror behind him.

“So, same time next week?” he asked with a wink. That familiar heat started to build just thinking of the possibilities. You watched him walk toward the door, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. “I’ll be here.”

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x revenge era!Reader - Social Media AU

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift, and 2,934,568 others

yourusername i never trust a narcissist but they love me

View all 5,721 comments

taylorswift karma is a god ❤️

gridgossip so we all think the ferrari is a diss at max, right?

trulytifosi and i am 100% here for it

kendalljenner welcome back! it was boring without you on here

theshaderoom we’re ready for whatever drama comes next 👀

voguemagazine

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 485,893 others

voguemagazine Y/N Y/L/N is ready to start over.

After an emotionally turbulent few months, the model and actress is slowly beginning to find her center. For Vogue's April issue, Y/L/N opens up about the journey to putting herself first, the lessons she learned through heartbreak, what she yearns for in a relationship, and why she’s taking it day by day.

Vogue, April 2023

View all 816 comments

y/nfanclub this is about to be one of the best comebacks in history

y/nlover she could stick her stiletto through my throat and i’d thank her

y/nfanclub that’s a little extreme but i love your enthusiasm

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 2,368,594 others

yourusername i don't regret it one bit 'cause he had it coming

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taylorswift don’t get sad, get even 😉

yourusername i learned from the best

f1wagupdates y/n is in her princess diana revenge dress era only instead of a dress it’s a ferrari jacket

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 2,417,865 others

yourusername i get mystified by how this city screams your name (literally)

📍 Circuit de Monaco

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charles_leclerc were you screaming my name as well?

yourusername of course, i’ve had lots of practice

f1wagupdates did they just?

gridgossip uh huh

f1wagupdates and imply that they …

gridgossip slept with each other? sure looks like it 🍿

scuderiaferrari monaco always loves charles but they love him even more after winning his first home race 🍾

f1wagupdates she's an icon, she is a legend, and she is the moment

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1,528,974 others

charles_leclerc the true prize came after the podium

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f1wagupdates charles “mr. steal your girl” leclerc

yourusername i was not anyone’s girl for him to steal in the first place. the only thing he stole was my heart

feralferrari first charles gets the girl, next he gets the championship 🤞

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, selenagomez, and 2,478,629 others

yourusername all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

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danielricciardo max just threw his phone at the wall

danielricciardo to be clear, i am a y/n stan first and max’s friend second

honeybadgered valid 💯

f1wagupdates they look so good together

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,506,912 others

charles_leclerc i promise to buy you flowers and hold your hand. give you all my hours when i have the chance. take you to every party because i know how much you love to dance. do all the things he should have done when he was your man

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yourusername the start of the year might not have been smooth sailing but i am so grateful for every obstacle i faced because they led me to you and i can’t imagine waking up next to anyone else every morning

charles_leclerc maybe we should send a certain red bull driver a thank you basket for indirectly getting us together

yourusername you’re evil and i love it

charles_leclerc what can i say? you’re rubbing off on me

y/nfanclub i’ve never seen y/n this happy before so thank you for making her smile again 🥹

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, and 2,894,576 others

yourusername your eyes look like coming home

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charles_leclerc home is no longer just a place, it’s wherever you are

yourusername i am the luckiest girl in the world to have found my soulmate in you

lonelyleclerc bathing with a toaster, sleeping on the highway, throwing myself head first into an active volcano

zendaya look at you literally glowing. i’m so happy for you both 💕

[pascalswift]

BURNING DESIRE

STEPDAD!JOEL x F!READER

SUMMARY : after all Joel did marry your mother, but she was oblivious to the motive behind it. Not silly love, it’s was you. It was always you, His sweet little stepdaughter.

WARNINGS : age gap (reader is early 20’s Joel’s late 30’s), dark!joel, perv!joel, step-cest, oral (f receiving), boob play, pet names, fingering, overstimulation, daddy kink, manhandling, mutual pinning, established relationship, (This is Short, sorry my loves )

JOEL MILLER WASN’T A EVIL PERSON, NO. HE WAS JUST CALCULATED. A very smart man, seemingly very stoic but once you break past the multi layered concrete you’d find someone that you’d never want to leave. Maybe that’s what enthralled your mother to jump into marriage so quickly, she truly believed he was deeply in love with her and she was he. She believed that she just happened to meet a professor at your college whom was single and yearning for the domestic things in life, but she was so utterly wrong.

To Joel miller, well he had found an in. One that allowed him full access to you, free to stare, free to do whatever he imagined without having to worry about a college or a student noticing the way he seemed to linger on you. After all, it was no accident that day when he and your mom “crashed” into each other.

So here he was now, arms crossed over his chest, Dress shirt screaming at the push from his large arms. The older man staring sternly at you as you sat on your bed promptly ignoring him. “I told your mother we’d meet her there.” Joel persisted and you huffed rubbing the heel of your palm over your eyes.

Your mother wasn’t your favorite person, she was money hungry, and self absorbed. She tried to claim she loved you, even more attempting to smother you after your father desperates this life a few years ago but time after time her true colors would peer through the blinds. So sitting at a dinner with her and her husband wasn’t something you’d like, especially if your step fathers brother/business partner was gonna be there. Your mother seemed to love his company…

Joel wasn’t dull he knew his wife likes his brother. But he also knew his brother wasn’t like that.

“Why can’t I just stay here? Tommy’s gonna be there and he’s good company.” You shrugged and Joel’s jaw clenched as he dropped his arms. “But I want ya’ there sweetheart.” Your heart raced as he walked closer to you, doe eyes looking up at him as his rough hand gripped your jaw angling your face upwards. “You just want attention huh?” Joel cooed before he bent down pressing his lips against your plush ones.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You mumbled as Joel pulled away, his brows raising as he crouched in front of you. He tossed the sheet off your legs angling your legs to the side of the bed, Your knees level with his neck. He tilted his head placing his hands on your knees as you were only in a pair of white cotton shorts with a tiny pink flower in the front center right under your belly button, and a plain pink tank top. He eyed the way your nipples imprinted the fabric of your thin tank top.

“Y’know what I mean baby.” Joel stated, his voice a bit lower. “If ya didn’t you wouldn’t be reactin’ like you are.” His hand slid up grazing your clothes nipple and you sucked in a breath. “If I give you somethin’ you promise you’ll get dressed after?” He was smirking, because he knew how to make you comply. You demeanor had changed from refusing to go to nodding with vigor whilst looking at your step-father.

His large rough hands slid up your thighs leaving goosebumps in its wake as his hands reached your shorts. He stood up hands grasping your waist as you tossed you further up the bed, a light giggle escaping your lips that made him smile as he climbed between your legs. Your heart rate was through the rough as he pulled your shorts and panties down in one go tossing them somewhere around the room.

He watched as your chest heaved and he yanked your tank top down letting your breast spring free and he groaned as he ground his hips into the bed to relieve some pressure. He leaned up taking a nipple into his mouth and your head lulled back with a whimper that turned into a light moan when his teeth grazed it. He pulled away pinching your other nipple before he lowered himself between your legs. Groaning at the mess of slick in your folds.

“Baby’s already wet f’me.” You nodded as he kissed your inner thighs, so close to wear you want him. “Word’s.” Joel muttered biting your inner thigh before soothing it with his tongue. “Just f’you daddy.” It escaped your lips and Joel nearly moaned at the way you said it, his hips moved on the mattress getting some relief as he finally flattened his tongue and licked a thick harsh stripe up to your clit.

You hands pulled at his hair as you moaned. Joel had quickly lost himself between your legs, it was supposed to be a little treat but it quickly just became a frenzy. His tongue dipping into your tight hole as You writhed. His arms were locked under your thigh pushing your stomach down not giving you much room to move. “s’good- mmgh”

Joel sucked your bundle of nerves harshly before, letting his tongue trace it before his hang slipped lower and his thumb pressed on your clit pulling up lightly, watching as you held onto your breast absentmindedly pinching and pulling at your nipples, before he returning to sucking and you felt tears brim your eyes as your abdomen felt hot. “D-daddy.” You whined as his other hang slid up between your boobs and both of your hands grabbed onto his larger one.

“I know baby, your bein’ so good f’daddy.” He mumbled as he used the pad of his tongue to lick down towards your weeping hole. His free hand that you were holding coming down as he poked at it with his index finger. Your hips jerked and you whimpered. “Gotta get you ready for later princess, ya’ want that hm?” You nodded eagerly but moaned loudly when you felt his thick finger enter inside you. Joel himself moaning at how warm and tight your walls were, barley just accepting his one finger he could only image what his cock would feel like inside of you.

He was so tempted to just fuck you after this but he didn’t wanna raise any flags. His finger pumped in and out of you and he already felt the way you clenched down on his one finger, your cries only spurring him on. Without warning he pushed his middle finger inside of your hole that was pouring arousal. The stretch was a sweet burn but quickly became just sweet as Joel’s mouth went back on your clit and his fingers pumped deeply inside of you.

He curled his fingers upward and you let out a particularly loud moan as the coil tightened in your stomach and heat slowly started to build up. “P-please- mgh. Daddy I’m g-“ Joel only sped up watching as your face contorted into pleasure. Mouth open with harsh breaths and brows furrowed. He curled his fingers up and sucked on your bundle of nerves watching as your orgasm hit you.

As he fucked you through your orgasm you were sure you blacked out for a minute. The pleasure washed over your body making your head push further into your pillow as you babbled incoherently. When you finally came down from jumping multiple feet in the air you felt Joel’s mouth still on your clit, his fingers still inside of you and your thighs attempted to close. Only to be cut short by his strength. “Daddy s’to much- m-“ you were unable to form a coherent sentence as Joel kept going, seemingly In a trance.

Tears started to fall down your cheeks as you yanked on his hair attempting to push him back but not outwardly telling him to stop, the pleasure being to enjoyable. “Gimmie one more baby.” His voice was raspy as he lifted his head only for a second before returning back to his place between your thighs pulling his fingers from your slick full hole. His fingers covered in your arousal as he smeared it over your clit, hearing your whimper of emptiness.

His hand slid up your neck and his finger tapped your bottom lip letting you taste yourself while he used his tongue to make you cum again.

Before you reached dinner you had already came three times, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle later.

thanks for reading <333

if you wanna be tagged just lmk and message me with requests I’m happy to write mostly everything <33

[stunies]

FLUFFTOBER DAY 19 — GHOSTS. ghost! hayato suo x f!readerﾉ sfw + fluff ﾉ no other warnings ﾉ link to october masterlist!

you seem to be the only one who doesn’t mind the ghost that’s trailing behind you. your friends want to hire someone to get rid of him, but you’re weirdly defensive over what’s supposed to be haunting you.

“I t-think something’s here.”

If you had heard these words come out of your friend’s mouth only a couple months ago, you’d probably feel some sort of dread or… fear. Anything else aside from endearment, at least. Instead, the confirmation that he’s still here with you only warms your heart and brings a smile to your face- much to her alarm.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you try to give her a reassuring smile, but it only seems to unsettle her even further. “Don’t worry about it. He’s the nice ghost I was telling you guys about.”

That’s right- they had genuinely chalked that up to a dragged out joke of yours this entire time. She almost wants to kick herself for being the first one to have to find out that his presence is, in fact, real. Very, very real.

“…Nice?” She’s hiding behind you now, clinging onto your jacket as some sort of safety precaution, you think. “You’re sure, right? One hundred percent sure…? That he’s.. a friendly ghost?”

“Mhm, I’m sure.” She isn’t quite sure why you look like you’re about to laugh in such a situation, but decides against bringing it up now. “We can leave in a second anyways. I just need to grab my wallet.”

This seems to relieve her, even if only a little.

“I swear he’s nice though, so you don’t need be so scared. Right?” You call out to whatever is lurking in the room, and something on your desk starts to roll. Your friend jerks her head fast enough to see that it’s a pen.

A red pen. Oh. How scary. It falls onto the floor with a light tap- his way of saying ‘yes,’ you’ve learned.

Your friend latches onto your arm with a nervous whine, and you laugh a bit. “You’ll hurry, right? Please?” Her voice drops to a low whisper, in case he can hear her. “I don’t want to stay near him any longer….”

A small frown tugs at your lips. Maybe this kind of thing was scarier for other people. You’re so used to him that it doesn’t really make sense to you anymore. “It’s okay,” you pat your friend’s head- the same way someone would comfort their dog. “I like him a lot. It’s nice to have him around, especially when it gets stormy. I’ve always been really scared of those— the thunder and stuff.”

She gives you a nod of agreement a bit too quickly, and you know she’s just agreeing so the two of you can get out of here faster. “I guessed his name a couple weeks ago,” you continue talking about him anyway, rummaging through your drawers to fish out your wallet, “but it took me a really long time to figure it out.”

“I wrote it down letter by letter, and he would move something when I landed on the right one.”

“O-oh… and..? His name is….?”

She wants to know if he’s an infamous ghost. Maybe it’ll confirm if he’s an evil one (she’s sure he is).

“Suo. That’s what we settled on, and that’s the name he responds to. Though I want to guess the other part of his name soon..” you say through a soft smile, as if telling your friend about finding love for the first time. “Ah. Found it. We can leave now.”

The name alone sends a violent shiver down her spine- goosebumps prickling her skin and it’s enough to make her just want to leave and never come back. “Let’s go then,” she grabs your arm, maybe a bit too roughly for Suo’s liking because you wince, and the light above the two of you flickers once.

A warning.

She ignores it somehow. “We shouldn’t be here any longer. And you too. He’s gonna start messing with your hea-”

A book on your desk crashes onto the floor, and her eyes go wide. A second warning, this time to keep her mouth shut.

“Come on already- h-hurry!” She’s tugging harder now- doesn’t listen when you tell her to loosen up the grip on your arm because it’s starting to hurt you.

Suo doesn’t seem to like that either, because the lights flicker much more violently this time. One, two, then three times before shutting off entirely, leaving you two alone in the dark and it falls eerily silent the next second.

“Ah..” you laugh sheepishly, hand gingerly rubbing at your arm. “Well, he’s mad now, so..”

dividers by @adornedwithlight

[angelicblondie]

what about luke castellan x ballerina!reader but she had to give up ballet when she went to camp and he like finds her dancing in the forest one night. maybe when he’s a little busy with like backstabbing everyone but yk🤷‍♀️

(like meet me in the pale moonlight or tomorrow never came coded like ughh😩😩)

wait...i adore this. as a dancer this made my heart actually jump for joy.

every night, luke was plagued with dreams. the not good kind, more specifically.

it started a few months ago. the deep ancient voice of a titan long imprisoned would echo through his mind, urging his darkest desires of revenge and shameful need for power to the forefront of his thoughts. he was angry, angry at the gods for ignoring him and all their other children. he wanted to stop this system, he was full of bitterness.

so the voice in his head was appealing. he knew that it probably wasn't morally good to listen to the evil titan kronos, but then again, if it all ended up with the system of the gods abolished, he could live with that.

but anyways, the point is, dreams invaded the peace luke found in his unconscious state, and sometimes, it was too much. sure, he agreed with the titan, but he wasn't ready to abandon home and betray his friends, not when they were the only ones who accepted him. he couldn't do that, no matter how much to words appealed to him.

so, when the hermes cabin felt suffocating, and his mind was reeling, late at night, luke would venture off into the woods.

luke felt at comfort with the odd eeriness that filled the late night air - he didn't jump or flinch at the sounds of leaves crunching or bushes rustling - he felt at peace with the scary.

that was, until he saw footsteps in the mud.

curious, luke followed the trail, until he reached an more open area of the forest, and he leaned up against a tree, taking in the sight in front of him with pure curiosity.

there you were, wearing grey sleep shorts, a black tank top, and a pink cardigan, dancing in the middle of this forest.

you seemed to be in your own world, sneakers planted in the ground as you did some simple plies, and luke watched, transfixed by the sight. your hair was tied up by a pink ribbon, and you had the most peaceful expression on your face, not one luke had ever seen before.

you were relatively new to camp, only having arrived in the past year. you were quickly claimed by your mother, aphrodite, and gained a fast group of friends and a positive reputation. luke and you hadn't talked much - sure, he gave you your tour, and the two of you had got on quite well, but once you got claimed, he didn't have much time to talk to you, given the rapid enthusiasm of your siblings.

he didn't know you were a dancer, a good one in fact. you elegantly pranced around, your feet moving quickly yet gracefully. luke was mesmerized - he had never really seen anything like it, like you. you seemed so free - so unburdened by the struggles of being a demi god. just you, alone (kind of?), dancing - luke guessed like every other demigod, you had found your own way to feel normal in this crazy world.

eventually, your eyes caught luke, and you stumbled back, imidiatley flushing. gods, you were mortified!

"l-luke? what are you doing here?" you exclaimed indignantly.

luke remained leaned up against the tree, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. "was on a walk, happend to come across you."

you huff. "how long have you been there?"

he shrugs, standing up straight. "not long." he walks forwards a bit, closer to where you stood. "you dance?"

wasnt it obvious? you thought, but awkwardly twiddled your thumbs. "well, used to, i guess. cant really anymore, cause....you know." you say, your voice somewhat shy.

luke humed in recognition. "yeah, the whole demigod thing doesnt help. wouldnt be fun if a cyclops showed up to a rectial, huh?" he said, the dry yet teasing humour in his voice elicited a giggle from your lips. "guess not," you agree softly, your eyes twinkling happily.

luke, feeling a little bashful, rubbed the back of his neck. "uh, your really good by the way. i feel a bit bad interrupting, you were in the zone."

you bite your lip, feeling a bit embarrassed. "yeah well, theres never really time to dance anymore, so i guess whenever i cant sleep i come out here to." you look him up and down. "is that why you're out here? you cant sleep?"

luke hums. "yeah. nightmares," he simplifies, his thoughts being brought back to the reason he left his cabin.

you blow out a breath of air. "hate those," you mumble.

luke observes you. "you enjoying camp?" he asks, changing subject.

you smile a little, nodding. "yeah, its different then what i thought it would be. it actually been really great, my sibling have been super welcoming," you say, your voice sounding so genuine and enthusiastic it was hard for luke not to smile.

his lips quirk up, eyes filled with a bit of mischief. "yeah, well, camp'll do that for you."

you bite your lip, almost as if you were contemplating your next words. "y'know, i haven't seen much of you since i got here. you must be busy."

luke chuckles a bit. "why, have you been looking for me?"

his flirty words heated your cheeks and you let out a nervous laugh. "no!" yes. "i was just wondering."

luke poked his tongue to the inside of his cheek. "right, right."

you talked for a little longer, before luke escorted you back to your cabin. you thanked him with a quick kiss to the cheek before running inside, and luke walked back to his own cabin, distracted from the overbearing titan in his dreams, even if only for a little while.

[kasagia]

Flesh and blood

Pairing: Halbrand x fem!elf! reader Summary: Centuries of running away, fighting with what is right and what you should do, have left their mark on you. In time, you begin to realise that the war between good and evil, light and darkness, will never end. And you are tired of all of it. Especially since HE never leaves you alone. Not even for a short moment. Not even when you're about to marry someone else. A bit of a sequel to Skin and Bones, but can be read on its own! It took me longer than I thought, but I kind of like the way it went. I hope you will like it! 🤭🥰 Inspired by: David Kushner - "Flesh x Blood" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"I don't remember the last time you prayed to the Valar." Galadriel sneaks up to you silently. You close your eyes and breathe in the sweet air of Lothlórien.

You were looking for a quiet place where you could calm down and clear your mind of everything that had been bothering you in recent days. And quite a bit had piled up. And not just because it was your "wedding week.".

"That was… ages ago." You reply thoughtfully and stroke the ring hanging around your neck with your fingertip. A ring forged by Halbrand.

"He won't come here. I will make sure of it. He's too afraid of failure. We have many more allies now. You can be safe for yourself and your fiancé." Galadriel assures you with burning fervour and takes your hand that you hold on your lap. You smile, glad that something of her fire still remains—despite the centuries you have fought for yourselves and your people.

"It's not me I'm worried about. Nor Thranduil. You know… you know how Sauron is. He'll do exactly what we least expect. And I can't let him surprise me again." You say, standing up and taking away your hand from her grip. You walk closer to the willow with white leaves and rest your hand on its trunk.

You try desperately to cling with your soul to the power that lies dormant in it—the light that is both a part of you and Garadiel. But as usual, you don't feel the pleasant tingling in your body. You feel the power flowing through you, but... it's not as addictive as the darkness that he tried to pour into you so many times.

The silence after your words is oppressive, to say the least.

"Do you still have these dreams?"Galadriel's soft whisper makes you shiver a little. You wonder if she can feel it in you—the way the light the Valar gave you beats against the darkness that sang to you the most tempting ballads and promises.

"Less often. I guess he's too busy to bother me. Or maybe he's already bored with me? That would be convenient turn of events." You reply and finally turn to fully face her. A small smile appears on your face, but by the way she narrows her eyes at you, you can tell she's seen through at least some of your lies.

"But do you want it? For him to... leave you at peace?"

"There is no peace for me, Galadriel. Neither for you. We both know that." You try to avoid responding to her question and are about to walk away from her, but in the distance you see the silhouette of a very familiar prince of Mirkwood. “Forgive me.” You say, using that perfect excuse, and head towards your fiancé.

Guilt hits you every time you see a smile on Thranduil's face. Not just any polite, mocking, or trained smile that you get used to seeing. He seemed to have his special one—the one reserved just for your eyes to see.

You don't know exactly how you've charmed the Elven Prince, but you didn't go into too much detail. This alliance would be good for the elves. It would unite you in the fight against the one who held the torn remains of your heart in his claws.

Although... you couldn't say you didn't hope that the passionate feelings the platinum-haired prince had for you would be returned from your side someday. Maybe in time you'd learn to love him as he loved you.

"My lady." He greets you and reaches for your hand. He places a kiss on the top of it with full reverence, not to tease you as HE used to do.

"Elf." Halbrand's raspy voice rings out behind you as you and Galadriel discuss something. You're celebrating a battle won against your enemies, the night dark, the area lit only by the light from the campfires and torches. You blush as you meet the intense gaze of his stormy eyes, and you blame the alcohol you've just consumed for that, not the effect this special mortal has on you. "May I?"

Too focused on his muscular, exposed shoulders, you almost don't notice him nod toward the elves dancing around the fire. Before you can respond, Galadriel takes the wooden tankard from your hand and practically shoves it into Halbrand's arms. She would do anything to bribe him into ruling the Southlands and becoming her ally now. She would even go so far as to push you into his bed if it would change his mind.

You hold your breath, your heart beating a little faster as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to it. Your skin tingles as his lips caress you, his stubble teasing, just like the way his blue eyes scrutinise your reaction.

He pulls away, giving you a mischievous, mysterious smile and holding you to his chest, joining the other couples around the fire and spinning around in his arms like nothing else in the world matters. Ironically, a mortal makes you feel more eternal than any elf, dwarf, or man you’ve ever met.

You shake your head at the memory, and when Thranduil's eyes find your face again, you give him one of your smiles. One that he unfortunately can't recognise as a mask. One that Halbrand would see through in a blink of an eye.

"You were not at the war council today." He notices and nods toward the gardens. You begin to walk at a leisurely pace as you consider how to respond to his observation.

"I did not feel too… focused to participate in it today. I hope you didn't miss me too much?" You tease him, hoping he'll ignore the slight note of concern in your voice.

You wanted your complicated realtion with... Sauron to remain a secret from him. He didn't need to know about things that were long in the past… or your fears that the past wasn't as far away as you'd like it to be.

"I actually did." His comment catches you off guard a little. You stop when he reaches into your hair and tucks a sundrop lily behind your ear. It's a sweet gesture. Really. And you feel warmer and nicer inside… but your heart doesn't flutter in your chest like it would if HE did it. "I heard these are your favorites?"

You nod with a smile, not daring to tell him that your favorites are the red-white Carnations. And not because Halbrand gave them to you the other century...

"They are." You whisper hoarsely, a smile plastered on your face and you look away at the flowers growing around you.

He doesn't let you look away for long though. He gently takes your chin in both his fingers and tilts your head, forcing you to look at him.

There was a delicacy, a grace in everything Thranduil did. He was the epitome of an ideal elf, in whom it was easy to see the roots of a great family. And you would have fallen for him, indeed, had you not tasted the seawater of darkness on your chapped lips all those centuries ago.

"What's on your mind?" He whispers, staring at you intently, searching for an answer to your strange behavior.

There are a lot of things stuck in your mind… and none of them should be there.

Because how could you tell him that your mind wasn't occupied by him—just as it should be—but... by Halbrand? How can you tell him that you spend countless nights wondering about what could've been, turning the silver betrothal ring that Thranduil gave you on your finger and fantasising that its metal was black, made of the same as Sauron's crown?

"Many things. Wedding. War. Orcs... Sauron." You confess partly the truth, keeping your gaze fixed not on his eyes and face but on the garden behind him. "I… I'm worried about what's going to happen." You admit mysteriously, without betraying, that you are truly afraid of being bound to him.

You are too scared to admit that the dark corners of your heart are dying with longing for the one you should never have desired. That part of you wishes that your groom carried far less light within him.

"I promise you, he won't ever touch you again. I will protect you. With my kingdom, army and life." All you can give him in return for such a racy declaration is a faint smile that you hope actually looks more convincing than it feels.

"I know. But I hope you will never have to, Thranduil." You add, completely honestly, for the first time, and on instinct you lean in and snuggle up to the elf.

He seems at least surprised that you seek comfort from him, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and places a hand on your head, gently running his hand through your hair as he lets you hide in his embrace for a moment.

And it feels good. Really.

But not as good as hugs from HIM.

"Galadriel said that I would find you here." Halbrand's voice interrupts your prayer to the Valar. You turn on the bench and look at the mortal. He slowly walks over to you and sits down next to you, staring at the holy oak before you. "Blaming yourself for their deaths won't get you anywhere. They're soldiers. They take into account the possibility of being killed when they go to war."

"Every life is worth mourning, Halbrand." He snorts at that, as if he doesn't believe the sincerity of your words. He turns his gaze to you, but you don't want to look back at him. You're afraid he'll see the tears in your eyes.

"Possible. But praying to the Valar will not bring them back to life." You jump up from the bench as if burned, to which he gives you a confused look.

"What are you trying to do? What do you want to tell me?! That stupid, eternal elf shouldn't shed tears over a life taken for no reason? That I shouldn't sit in a corner and cry like a child while people die around me? I know it! I know it perfectly well, mortal!" Your voice breaks slightly and you can no longer stop yourself from crying silently.

He freezes. For the first time, he sees your outburst. You're usually a composed oasis of composure, but now... after you saw him at the edge of death... Halbrand starts to connect the dots. He walks over to you and firmly, quickly closes you in his arms. You try to pull away, but he doesn't let go.

He actually doesn't want to let you go.

He had many names; he had taken many forms, but in none of them did he feel... peace. Holding you in his arms while you were crying into his chest, seeking comfort from him, as your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinching to him tight as if for dear life... he felt peace. He felt some strange kind of relief caused by the fact that you cared about him much enough to mourn his potential death.

You cried into his chest because you were afraid he would die, that he would leave. Sauron tries to remember the last time someone cared so much for him. He can't remember. Or he doesn't want to remember anything but this.

And he took selfish pleasure in the knowledge that his leaving would have devastated you.

You let yourself cry into him, pour out all the emotions that have been weighing on you since you saw him bleeding on the healers' bed, and you shiver in his arms as a cool gust of wind somehow hits your skin and breaks through the safe cage of his warm embrace.

"No Valar has ever answered my prayers. None has ever looked after me like you are... thank you, Y/N." He whispers into your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead.

He feels a strange pang in his heart as his lips touch the surface of your silky skin. You still tremble in his grip, but he holds you impossibly tight, refusing to let any force separate you. It's a strange feeling. One he's not used to. One that seems addictive - much like your sweet scent, which he hopes will linger on him so he can appreciate it longer.

This moment between you is... intimate. Not just because he holds you close to his chest, whispers sweet things into your ear, and plants kisses that colour your cheeks the same scarlet as your dress. It's because he uses your name for the first time. And it's to comfort you. A mortal. A blacksmith. A simple man... for whom you've fallen so quickly it's pathetic.

When you finally stop crying and he carefully wipes away every tear that's left on your cheeks with his thumbs, you do the boldest, stupidest thing in your entire, long life. You stand up on your tiptoes and connect his lips with yours.

He is... surprised by your unexpected act. At first he is unable to react to the way your lips move gently against his. You kiss him with a tenderness he has not felt for at least several centuries. And the Valar above, how sweet your lips were.

The tempting vision of the future he could have with you passes through his mind, enticing him more than any vision of power that Morgoth putted in his mind.

You take away his breath and any possibility of movement with each gentle biting of his lip. His heart beats uncontrollably quickly as he revels in your closeness and your ethereal scent, which wraps him better than any blanket could. He clings to your sofftness like a centuries-old thirst for touch-broken man that Morgoth had made him.

You pull away from him when he remains still for too long, fearing you've crossed a line. Allowing you to believe in it is the only crime he can’t commit.

His plans to slowly seduce you and use you to get on Galadriel's better side fly out the window as he desperately reaches for you. His needing of you is greater than anything he has felt since he took this new form.

And Valar, curse him if, after he has tasted you, he does not get all of you to himself.

He tangles a hand in your hair and, making sure his entire hand is securely around the back of your head, pushes you against the column in the courtyard with a force that makes you gasp into his mouth.

He’s quick to seize the opportunity, his tongue slipping past your slightly parted lips as he greedily savours every last bit of you, devouring you like a starving man as his other hand desperately grabs at your waist, taking a fistful of the material of your dress.

He wants to be as close to you as possible, any logical thought in his mind giving in to the force of his desire as he presses his entire body against you, wondering only where and how to take you, which places are your sweet spots, and what to taste first to put out the fire you've ignited inside him—a desire so great he's become its obedient slave in less than a blink of an eye.

And for a moment, he truly feels like a weak mortal. As you work just as quickly to unbutton his shirt, he feels like a regular human being. And he despises that feeling as much as he desires more.

"He is here." At Galadriel's words, you drop the white gown you were taking from the wardrobe.

Your maids rush to you, trying to save the silk dress from getting wrinkled, but you don't care. All you can think about is him. Sauron. Halbrand... Annatar. He was here.

"What?" You stare at her in shock as she nods her head for the rest to leave your chambers. The silence in the room is heavy, broken only by the hurried footsteps of the elves leaving, who have managed to do your wedding hair and light makeup.

"We... wanted to keep you away from it—Erlond, me, and Thranduil. We thought it would be the best for you. Sauron... he entered the city gates a week ago and... surrendered. Sort of. He let us lock him in his cell. He has no crown, no rings. He said he wanted to make an alliance with us. Peace. Of course we don't believe him. We're waiting for our allies to provide us with... the right means to get rid of his physical form for good. Before that... we'd like to get as much out of him as possible. Or rather, find out what his real plan is. But he's been silent for weeks. He wants to talk to you. Only you."

"You kept it in hidden? From me? Together with my future husband?" You ask coldly, inside seething with rage at their betrayal. How could they pretend nothing was happening for a week? That the greatest evil in Middle-earth hadn't come to your gates and wasn't lurking in the dungeons, waiting for the most likely moment to strike?

"Y.N, I… I know how you feel…"

"No. You don't know." You answer her firmly, piercing her with an icy gaze that makes her flinch. "Am I your enemy now? A less worthy ally who fell in love with an enemy? Because that's what he is to me, Galadriel. How dare you... how dare you doubt me after I've chosen you every time? After I had chosen Middle-earth and elves every single time! Each of us faces darkness, Galadriel. Even you are not made entirely of light. So I'm asking you, what right do you have to exclude me from your plans?!"

You explode in rage at her and walk over to her. You breathe quickly, air leaving your flared nostrils, and the urge to pin her to the wall with a dagger at her neck is overwhelming.

"Everything I do, I do for the good of Middle-earth."

"You're not the only one! What do you think is the reason for my marriage to Thranduil?! The good of Middle-earth, the strengthening of the alliance—that's all I've done for these cursed centuries at your side! But I thought I was your true ally and supporter. Thank you for reminding me that I fall short of your light and greatness, my lady."

Before she can say anything, you're already running out of the room. You ignore the elves milling around, who were listening to your conversation, and head to one place. The dungeons.

You can't ignore the pang in your heart as you consider your conversation with Galadriel. She didn't trust you. They didn't trust you. After all the years at their side, the sacrifices, the battle against the darkness within you, they thought of you as a lesser elf that any time can be consumed by the darkness. You were not a worthy guardian of Middle-earth in their eyes. And you probably never will be.

You blink faster, fighting back the tears that want to spontaneously come to your eyes, and practically run down the stairs. You don't ask the guards where he is. You can feel him clearly, the ring that still hangs safely on your necklace pulling you toward him, feeling him as soon as you set foot on the same floor he is on.

You prepare yourself to not show any emotion on your face. You take a few deep breaths and climb the last few stairs. A rather comical sight greets you. Six men stand by the bars, as if the chains and shackles around the neck, wrists, and ankles of the man in front of you were not enough to assure him that he would not escape. As if they could stop him if he actually wanted to escape.

You watch his new form closely as he drinks in your sight with an equally intense gaze, as if assessing all the changes in you since your last meeting. He is no longer Annatar. He doesn't have blond hair, but he is a near-perfect replica of Halbrand. A damn bastard knew too well which one of his forms you had weakness for.

"Leave me and the prisoner alone." You order the soldiers. They look at each other uncertainly. But you are in no mood to deal with their blatant refusal to immediately obey your words. “It was an order, not a request.”

You see a small, mocking smile spread across his face as he watches the soldiers hesitantly leave you alone. The door closes behind them with a bang, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Centuries. That's how long it took for the two of you to be in the same room in flesh and blood.

It shouldn't feel this right.

"Personally, I think I made you a better ring." He begins, casting a significant glance at the Thranduil's ring that adorned your finger. For a moment, you felt as if the metal would melt under his contemptuous gaze.

"Personally, I believe that it is not the ring that is important but the one who gives it." You comment and take a step towards the bars. He can't move, thankfully, so there still is a decent distance between you two.

He's trapped in the middle of the room, chained to the floor with heavy chains. And though he looks defenseless... but deep down you know he's been through worse. No prison could hold him for long.

"Your little elf prince... did he finally tell you that I was locked here? Or was he too afraid I'd steal you from the altar? By the way, I didn't know you had a thing for blondes? Maybe Annatar wasn't as disgusting to you as you claimed."

"Oh Annatar was a self-absorbed, egotistical psychopath with unrealistic ambitions. A pretty close and faithful form of you. Probably the closest yet, Sauron." He frowns at the contemptuous, almost disgusted way you say his name. He clears his throat and shakes his head, chuckling darkly.

His mockery sends waves of anger through you as well as a warm, all-too-familiar feeling in your chest. His laughter was both poison and wine to you. How much would you give to be able to get lost in it with impunity...

"Now now. Why call me by a name you despise? We both know which one you like more... especially in the darkness of your chambers." You tremble slightly, but you don't let him know that the constant visions and dreams were affecting you in any way.

If you've learnt anything about him, it's that he doesn't like it when you don't react to his actions. And right now, you really want to piss him off; see him losing his composed and mocking demeanour, as if he were still playing the cards in your game, as if he were 15 steps ahead of you.

"Why are you here, Halbrand? Perhaps you prefer Annatar? The Dark Lord? It's hard to keep up with the nicknames you've been giving yourself lately, Lord of orcs and Mordor." You ask calmly, playing with the ring on your finger—a habit you had developed far before your engagement and, as you've just noticed, something that annoyed him when it wasn't his ring that you were showing off like that.

"Oh, well, someone had to carry a pillow with wedding rings at your…"

"You're wasting my time." You interrupt him coldly, staring at him intently. “Maybe I should just let Galadriel play with you while I focus on my husband?” You ask, rasing defiantly an eyebrow at him as you wonder if he will continue his stupid game or once in his life he will open his cards to you.

"Good thing we have eternity, right?" You sigh and roll your eyes at him. That was exactly how you remembered him.

What else could you expect from him? If he hadn't shown you the illusion, he would have entangled you in his dark web of lies. It didn't matter if he came to you in visions or stood before you in flesh and blood—he wasn't the one you fell in love with; he was much more. You should have realised after all those centuries that whatever was between you two wasn't love, affection, or anything decent.

He desired your power. Not you. Maybe you should finally take a hint.

Maybe he had shown you the darkness for too long to feel tempted by it any longer. Maybe this light was finally what you longed for. Or maybe you got bored of his little, sick games and manipulations. Maybe you craved for something real—something he obviously would never give you.

You turn your back on him and are about to leave when he suddenly calls your name. Not the pet names he liked to call you. Your name. Your real name. And something about the way it rolled over his tongue wouldn't let you just walk away from him.

Even though you should have done it ages ago. Even though the whispers of darkness had been tempting you for too long, and even though you knew perfectly well that it would be better for you to leave this room as soon as possible, you didn't.

You stop, but you don't spare him a glance again. You wait for what he has to say, not really knowing what you want to achieve with him. Because you are perfectly well aware that Galadriel has already informed Erlond and Thranduil about your sudden outburst and that they are most likely eavesdropping on the two of you now. HE probably knew that too. Just as you all knew that he wouldn't appear here without a serious reason.

"Not in a joking mood, I see. You'd be a lot happier as my bride, by the way. But if you insist, I think I can tell you this great secret, but it must remain just between us two, my sacred light." He pauses, clearly waiting for you to look at him again. You sigh and reluctantly turn to face him. The intensity of his sea-green gaze burns worse than any flame, making you feel like you're the one being interrogated and shackled by him. "Actually... I'm here to replace your groom if he decides to run away from the altar. I wouldn't want the beautiful sight of you in your wedding dress to go to waste."

"Who said he would leave me? Thranduil loves me." You speak with complete certainty of the prince of Mirkwood's feelings for you. You wish you had as much confidence in yourself as you do in him.

"Not a big achievement. He's not the only one. He's not the only one who put a ring on your finger, is he? But tell me... what seems more... intimate? Wearing one on your finger or on a chain around your neck, close to your heart?"

After his words, the ring on your chest - the very one he gave you - becomes heavy, heavy under the awareness that his words carry a bit of truth... Why would you still keep his ring close to you if you already had one?

"You tell me. It seems that of the two of us, you know the most about the chains. Especially the dark ones."

"I may be chained to the darkness. But you, my stubborn and beautiful elf, are chained to the light. Tell me, Y/N, does the Valar answer your prayers and your pleas after you have cried out to me in the darkness of so many nights? Can you whisper their names in your holly gardens, knowing it is mine you wish to scream out loud for all of Middle-earth to hear?"

Only when blood is running in a stream from your hand do you realise that you've gone to the bars and wrapped your hand around them, squeezing tightly so you hurt yourself. He's drawn you to him like a spider to its prey, wrapping you in the web of his words, making you lose your guard enough to get close to the bars. And that was your mistake.

In an instant, he’s in front of you. You gasp in shock, unable to process when he’s freed himself from his shackles or when he’s wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled it through the bars. All you can do is hold your breath and watch as he licks your wound, moaning as your crimson blood spreads across his taste buds, tasting you like you’re the most exquisite of drinks.

"We belong together, my lady." He says this nickname mockingly as he leans down to press his lips to your hand. "No matter how far or fast you want to run, or who you want to run with. I will always find you. I will always be near. You will be able to feel my breath on your neck in every dark night. You will always be mine, Y/N."

You gasp as his lips move up your hand. He’s so close, your noses brushing through the bars as he forces you closer to him, to feel you the way he wants.

You gasp as he slides his hand along the sharp edge of the bars and mixes your blood with his, pressing your hands together tightly. You watch as the black, thick liquid runs down his wrist, and an unwanted little voice in the back of your head convinces you to lean down and taste his blood with the tip of your tongue. You stand there, staring at him as if spellbound, unable to move as he presses kisses to your joined hands, spreading your blood across your skin.

Suddenly, you are being dragged backwards by two strong pairs of arms. And although Halbrand... Sauron tries to hold you by force, almost crushing your wrist, Erlond and Thranduil pull you away from him.

"That's a very rude way to interrupt someone's conversation." He comments unimpressed, running his finger over the bars where your blood still is. He sucks his thumb, humming at another metallic taste, irritating your not-yet-husband.

"You're lucky there's no suitable weapon here yet to end your miserable life, you disgusting, cursed Maiar. I'd like to see you try to get close to her, no longer having any physical form."

"I would still have a better chance of getting a taste of her wonderful nectar and light, little prince. Actually, I've already done it. What about you?"

You knew perfectly well what game he was playing and how much he wanted to spore the elf so that he would slip and stab him with his sword, thus not killing him fully but allowing him to take another form. But Thranduil seemed too agitated to leave him without a word, and Erlond was too interested in getting more information out of Sauron to stop his friend.

"I can connect with her in a more meaningful way. First of all, I have enough light in myself to bind our souls to each other." Sauron frowns in displeasure, never taking his contemptuous gaze off your fiancé.

"You may not know this, Elven Prince, but darkness is as good a connection as any, and a much stronger one I dare to say. Besides... you cannot bond with one who is already taken."

This is clearly too much for Thranduil to bear. The Prince of Mirkwood is in front of Sauron in a split second, his blade at his neck. A thin line of black blood runs down to his collarbones as he, unfazed, still smirking, stares down at your fiancé.

"Thranduil leave him." You butt in and place a hand on the elf's shoulder. He looks at you sideways, his jaw clenched and his hand trembling slightly against Mairon's neck as he is still tempted to take his life. You gently grab his wrist and pull his hand away from Sauron, ignoring the searing look he gives you as you touch another man before him. You gently cup the elf's cheek and force him to look at you. "He is not worth it. Let us go, he will not tell us anything useful, he will only confuse our minds. This is just another of his numerous games."

"You know perfectly well that not all of this was a lie, Y/N. And if anything… I'm not the only one here who resorts to it, am I, my beloved nemesis?" You try to ignore the look Sauron gives you from behind Thranduil's shoulder.

You lean down and gently connect your lips with the elf's. He seems to melt into your kiss, one of your rare acts of tenderness. And you can't quite give yourself over to the feeling of his lips against yours enough to not hear the soft growl of the man behind you.

"Let's take this wedding. We won't achieve anything here anyway." You say, moving away from him and trying your hardest to ignore the pain in your chest and the cries for the Dark Lord that Erlond and Galadriel were taking care of.

But you knew well that his imprisonment wouldn't last long. He'd get out. The only question was when... and what was the real reason of his comming here.

The ceremony is beautiful. Really. Even though you may not be the most enthusiastic bride, you are happy that your people have something to celebrate and have a moment of respite from the danger that is now closer than ever. With Sauron in the dungeon and an army of orcs on the loose, anything could happen. And you didn't want to even imagine the many possible scenarios.

"A coin for your thoughts?" Thranduil quickly joins your side, handing you one of the goblets in his hand.

You smile softly at him and take a sip of the drink, wincing slightly at the taste. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you watch the dancing elves.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined this connection between you two to look like. Elven couples who chose to bind their souls together through marriage spoke of a great connection of souls and minds, but you barely felt this link between him and you.

For a moment you thought you had said your vows wrong, but Thranduil didn't seem to act like anything was wrong. So you too pretended that everything was completely fine. Just as always.

"Honestly, this isn't how I imagined our wedding would be." You chuckle softly, sipping the drink he gave you.

"Well, that wasn't what I had in mind either, my dear wife. But it doesn't make it any less joyful. You're mine. Finally." He whispers and presses a kiss on your temple. A shiver runs through you as he gently slides a ring onto your finger. The engagement ring that somehow disappeared from your finger. You frown and give him a questioning look. "Sauron must have stolen it from you somehow. I'm just returning it to its rightful place—my queen's finger." He replies and reverently places a kiss on the back of your hand.

You frown and look at the metal band on your finger. It was… oddly heavier. Like more massive. Strange, since it was the exactly same ring as few hours ago.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" He asks sweetly, taking the empty chalice from you.

You absentmindedly play with the necklace around your neck, freezing when you realize you don't have the familiar weight of Sauron's ring hanging around your neck.

"Shall we dance? For the first time as husband and wife?" Before you can answer, he already has you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor. You surrender completely to his guidance, feeling your head hum slightly.

All you can look at is him. Your vision can't focus on the couples dancing around you or anything else except him. And suddenly, you see it. A small crack in your fucking vision.

You can't believe how you could be so stupid and naive.

"I... Sauron" You mumble, feeling slightly disoriented as the poison he gave you is starting to work. Suddenly, you are overcome with immense fatigue, and all you can do is lean against him as you wander into blissful nothingness.

"My beautiful light. Only mine. My wife." He whispers in your ear, confirming your too-late suspicions, and easily scoops you up into his arms.

You dream a dream without dreams. Very strange occurrence since for centuries you were haunted by him in any moment of peace.

It must have bordered on obsession, since the first thought you had after waking up was always him. He made you crazy without even trying, without even being close to you in flesh and blood.

And you're genuinely afraid of the lengths he'll go to once he finally has you within his reach.

"I know you are not sleeping, my dear wife. Your breathing quickened about 10 minutes ago."

You don't know how you could have been so stupid and naive. How you could not have noticed the obvious difference in Thranduil's demeanor. Just like you have no idea how he did it, how he managed to plan this entire show and execute exactly what he wanted. Just as always.

"Eventually you'll have to open your eyes. Don't you want to see our kingdom, my love?"

"Don't call me that, you disgusting plague." You growl, finally opening your eyes. You're in a bedroom, pitch black. You're lying on the most velvety silk sheets, but it's not them or the decor of the room that catches your eye.

He sits just a few feet from your bed. He's wearing black armour made of sharp metal plates. There's a streak of red blood on the side of his face. You shiver, wondering what he had to do to get that blood there.

"Now now. Is this the way to greet your newly wedded husband?" He asks mockingly as he slowly approaches you.

You sit on the bed and rest your back against the headboard, trying to move away from it as far as the handcuffs attached to your ankles will allow.

"I didn't marry you. I was promising myself to Thranduil." You say stubbornly as he slowly sits down on the edge of your bed.

You glare at him sternly as he lazily reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. The ring on his finger—the very one you thought you were putting on Thranduil's finger—pricks your skin unpleasantly, mockingly reminding you of your great mistake.

"But that wasn't really him standing before you, was it? Your elven prince's… his… appearance is currently far from what you remember. You could always be mistaken, my love."

His voice is so sweet that it is nauseating. He drops his hand and suddenly stands up from the bed. He goes to the closet and starts to take off his armour, completely oblivious to the fact that you're in the same room as him. How you wish you had access to a small knife right now...

"What did you do to him?" You ask, your voice shaking as a thousand possibilities race through your mind. You can't believe how all of you fell for the idea that there was some way you could make him defenceless and block his powers. Millennia on his back, and he still played you however he wanted.

You shiver as he suddenly stands before you again. He gently cups your cheek in his hand and stares at you as if you were another addition to his collection of prized possessions he’s torn from the throats of his enemies. The pearl in his dark crown of scorched lands.

"He wanted to take you from me. You know very well what I do with thieves, my precious light of life. I burn them." He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. His stubble stings unpleasantly, your heart pounding at his closeness, but still all you can do is sit there in shock, wondering how he managed to gain control over you. And how best to play your cards to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else.

"I wasn't yours. Not for anyone to steal me from you."

"Your mistake, for which his pretty face paid. Do you know how much time I spent convincing my army not to feed on him once they smelled the delicious scent of a burnt elf?" He asks, unfazed, continuing to press his lips against your skin. His hand tangles in your hair and wraps it around his.

He tilts your head back and buries his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You hold your breath, biting your lower lip until it bleeds.

A tear slips down your cheek, but he ignores it, ignores your quick breaths and broken sobs as you mourn the one man who truly wanted to save you from falling into the darkness. From falling into the arms of the Lord of the Rings.

"You are a monster." You whisper, unable to hold your voice back from a broken sob. His hand works on the fastenings of your nightgown, oblivious to the fact that you are currently reliving the suffering and death he brought to the land of Galadriel and your would-be husband.

"I am your husband. That's all that matters now."

He leans down and captures your lips. You can only moan as the force of his kiss cuts off all other sensations you feel. His lips claim yours as if it were his eternal right, one you've denied him and one he's had to rightfully fight for. You feel him sigh softly as he presses you against him, making sure he feels yours against every inch of his body. He's not kissing you. He's conquering you. He's marking his territory, laying claim to every tiny part of you, not wanting to leave any part of you unsullied by him.

He had cursed your spirit utterly centuries ago. He had planted the seeds of darkness that had only flourished in the centuries away from him. And now, having gathered enough of an army and grown strong enough to be virtually unstoppable, he was taking your body for himself.

And you realize that even the Valar do not forgive you your sin in wanting him even after all the terrible things he has done.

You still try to fight him. With the last of your strength, you push him away from you, trying to protect the remnants of light that remain in you. Light that he desired as much as he wanted to destroy it through his darkness.

"What have you done? Where am I?" You growl, trying your best to hide how panicked you are. You reach for your powers and throw him across the room.

You throw off the bonds that bind you and walk to the nearest window. You hold your breath as you see the lands that were once sacred gardens, where you prayed to the Valar, engulfed in flames and ash. He destroyed it all. He razed the entire city to the ground. All because you dared to bind yourself to someone other than himself.

"In your husband's house. Right where you belong." He approaches you silently and presses a kiss on your shoulder. He wraps his hands around you like a snake, tightening his grip on you.

You hyperventilate at the destruction you've brought upon those you loved. You wonder how many of them survived, how many escaped, how far his armies have spread, and how long he's kept you locked away in his golden fortress like a sick prize that you clearly were to him.

In your last, feeble attempt at rebellion, you scream. You scream until your throat aches, and much longer after that. You turn in his arms and throw yourself at him in a frenzy with fists and nails, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurt all the people of Middle-Earth and you. You want to hurt him so much that he will feel it in every tiny part of himself, so he will be able to feel your own pain and despair.

You curse him in both elven and general speech; you throw insults at him; you struggle and fight with him. The fact that he stands calmly without losing his composure, taking your blows as if they were nothing, makes you even angrier and more passionate in your efforts to hurt him. You hit him even harder; you want to throw him off balance, drive him insane—just like he just did to you. You feel extremely powerless when you realise that you cannot.

"Have you finished?" He asks, catching your wrists in both hands as your attacks become less frequent and your screams turn into quiet sobs.

He pushes you against the wall and presses you against it, immobilising you. His other hand gently wipes the tears from your cheeks, as if that would somehow ease the ache in your chest. You feel as if the last of your light is dying a slow, painful death with each of his touches.

"Not even close. Let me out. Let me out or I'll go mad. I'll go crazy. I'll make sure every single day of your damn life is a nightmare."

"You won't. I need your light, Y/N. It's the only thing keeping me sane among these stinking orcs. And if you go mad... then we shall go mad here together. As husband and wife. For sickness and for worse. Until we heal all Middle-Earth."

"You are already lunatic." You promise him, twisting your wrists so you can dig your nails into his palms. He hisses slightly, but doesn't remove his hands from you.

"Possibly. But I'm not your monster. I didn't kill them, Y/N. Your little friends should have died, but I spared them. I only took their land from them. I showed mercy, Y/N. For you. Because of you. My wife. Don't you see that? Don't you like the control you have over me, my lady, my light, my sweet and dear wife?" With each new nickname he trails kisses along your temple to your cheek, stopping at the corner of your mouth. "Doesn't that mean more than anything I have done for you?"

"It means nothing. It never meant anything and never will. You have no soul; you have no light. You can't... you can't bond with me... with mine... you won't pollute me."

You shiver as he runs his tongue from your jawline to your neck, stopping suddenly to suck a hickey into your skin. You gasp and bite your lip hard, trying not to let out any more sounds of pleasure, but you can’t just ignore the way he presses himself perfectly against you.

"Oh, Y/N…you know so little of the powers of darkness. I am already one with you. I have been through the ages and always will be. In body and soul, in mind, in dreams, in spirit, in flesh and blood, I will always be a part of you."

He's right. You know he is because you feel him with your whole being. Even hundreds of years apart didn't manage to get you out of the clutches of his influence.

He poisoned your mind through your dreams and entered your body like a venomous poison, starting with your soul and ending with your flesh. And the worst in all this situation was that you didn't know how to stop him.

"You… you promised you would leave me alone. That you wouldn't lift a finger until I called for you, until I came to you myself." You mumble as he pushes you back into the bed.

He straddles you and cups your cheek tenderly in his hand, watching you closely. He plays with you slowly, like a spider that has captured its prey in its web, savouring every moment he can explore your body with his fingers.

"Apparently you needed a little push. Beside that, didn't you ever try to reach me?" He asks, slowly weaving your hand into his. The rings on your fingers mock you more than his words. Because did you really defend yourself with all your might when you landed so easily in his arms? "You will beg for me, Y/N. You will crave my company. I will wait until the memory of any other kindred spirit than me dies in you. I am very patient, Y/N. Ages and aeons have taught me this. I will wait until you have no shelter, no confidant, no friend, no lover left on this world but me."

With that dark promise, he pushes your back down on the bed. He hovers over you, giving you no time to respond. He swallows your every breath hungrily, as if he'll never get to kiss you again, but you both know perfectly well that now that you're finally in his iron grip, it's quite the opposite. He has all the time in the world to destroy you. A thought that, along with the intensity of his kiss, fades inside you as you allow yourself to give in to your darkest, wildest, most ardent desires.

With every kiss that marked your body, every little moan, every soft gasp, you felt yourself sink deeper into the depths of darkness. His fingers caressed your skin, igniting something much more than lust within you.

And even though you love the way he feels against you, digging your nails into his back and tangling your hands in his hair, pulling him as close as you can, wanting and needing him to finally become one with you after all these centuries, you don't give in to him completely.

You knew what he was like, what he was capable of, and what sweet lies his lips could tell as they caressed your breasts, peppering every inch of your exposed skin in a frenzy of kisses as his fingers prepared you for him. You could moan and hold on to him tightly, pretending he had you all to himself as the edge of his wedding ring brushed against your walls, but deep down, every little connection to him made you want to fight him even more.

But you'll play smarter next time. You were a diligent student, and he's just taught you a very important lesson. Patience is golden. So you'll wait. Wait until he believes he's completely tamed you, that you'll willingly become his king, his Queen of the Rings. You'll make him believe you're his and his alone, and at the right moment you'll plunge the dagger into his Mordor-black heart.

You cry out and bite his shoulder when, just as you think about plunging the dagger into him, he thrusts his length into your wet, aching walls. And the Valar above, if this were to be a sin, then you no longer wish to remain holy and pure.

As he begins to thrust into you with all his strength, no longer holding back the lust and desire suppressed for years, you wonder if this is the ecstasy elves feel when they return from this world and become one with the light of the Valar. If not, you are glad he has led you far away from that path.

He whispers something to your ear in black speech, but to you these are just fragments of meaningless words, as your head buzzes with the flood of feelings he gives you. He is relentless in his conquest of you, and for a moment you truly feel utterly defeated and at his mercy. It is only when the blood from his arm—from the exact place where you bit him—runs down your chest that you remember that this is not the end for you. You will not submit to him. Ever. He may have won you through deception, but he will never extinguish the fire within you—the light that may not have been as pure but still blazed beneath the surface of your skin.

"Bind... yourself to me." He grunts between his hard thrusts, trembling as he nears the edge. You don't know if it's a command or a needy cry of the desperate, lonely immortal, but you know that if your plan is to succeed, you must give him part of yourself he could hold on to...

“Halbrand!” You moan when he suddenly slides his hand between you and stimulates your clit, teasing you and bringing you closer to your pleasure, caressing you the way you used to do in the dark of night with him in mind.

"Mairon." He breathes shakily, his tone bordering on pleading. You shiver, realising what he's just revealed to you. The name he didn't give himself. The one he had no control over. And maybe, if the circumstances were different, if he'd won you over differently, you'd appreciate more how... sensitive to you he had to become to share something like that. "My light... Mairon." He doesn't ask. He never does. But in that moment, you could take it as his prayer to you. A plea from the depths of his heart, where there's a shred of light left. Which you know perfectly well there isn't. Or at least you want to believe that he's completely rotten to the core. Otherwise, he could truly love you. And knowing that would destroy you.

"Mairon." You moan as you both fall apart and you open yourself up to him, doing what he asked of you - bonding yourself to him with flesh and blood.

He collapses on top of you, trapping you in the tight embrace of his arms. He presses his mouth to your temple, his nose in your hair as he inhales and absorbs every last bit of you, wanting to memorise this moment forever and etch it into the memory of his mind, into his very being.

You allow it. For both him and yourself, to enjoy this stolen moment of peace between you two.

Because Sauron forgot one important thing. That in the glow of your light he can both bask and burn. And since you can no longer remain holy and good like Galadriel, since that path of light was blocked for you from the day you met him and the Valar have turned their back on you, refusing to protect you and defend you against him, then you will become much worse than all of them.

Middle-Earth should beware of the new Lady of the Rings.

[p0rk-guts]

Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

[satxnsupreme666]

Kind of woman: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Masterlist

Requested by:  @midnight-lestrange

Summary:  Agatha feels guilty about what happened to Alice, so you go to look for her, only to realize she is drowning on mud, you help her to get out of the mud and to clean herself, would she be able to understand that you do not blame her for anything?

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.6k

Author’s notes: This takes place on episode 5, after Agatha’s trial.

I also noticed I got a few requests, I will make sure to write them, I just want to make sure that what I write would be good for the people who requested, when people request I like to make sure I write their request as nice as possible, because I want to make sure they will have something nice and pretty to read and make sure they will enjoy what I write for them.

Also @midnight-lestrange sorry this one is a little bit short, I hope you still enjoy it and again, thank you so much for letting me write your amazing ideas! I hope you like this!

I hope you like it! ♥️

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange  @eliscannotdance

You could not believe what had just happened, seeing Alice’s body on the floor made you quickly turn away from it.

Everyone was shocked, Agatha had been the first one to leave the house, going outside the door and to the forest of the witches’ road, you had been so shocked about what had happened that you did not realize everyone had already walked out of the house, but most important, you had not realized Agatha had looked at you longer with a worried expression on her face when you were looking at Alice’s body, the way her heart was aching at the mere thought of you thinking she was a monster, she could actually not care what everyone thought about her,  but you, you were everything to her, shame had been a feeling she was not used to, barely feeling it, but what she had done in front of you, in front of her sweet y/n, what she had done was eating her from the inside, full of regret, the voices of past memories coming to her telling her how evil she was, just how her mother had accused, and maybe her mother had not been wrong about her.

You were still facing the wall, the dim lights were enough for you to see the things on the wall, suddenly the entire place felt awfully cold, and you were afraid of turning yourself around to even look at the door, the fear consumed you, you were afraid to even move, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, the touch made you jump in fear.

“You have to go and check on the others, make sure Agatha is fine” Rio’s soft voice made you relax a little, the soft touch on your shoulder giving you some sort of comfort.

Even after her presence was making you feel better, fear still made you unable to move from your spot, Rio sensed your hesitation to move from where you were standing and walked to stand in front of you, she saw the way your eyes were closed, with so much force she thought you were going to give yourself a headache, and she chuckled, the sight made her laugh internally.

Rio pressed her hands on your shoulders and started to rub them softly, up and down, trying to comfort you, it seemed to work because you started to open your eyes, slowly.

When you fully opened them, you saw Rio standing in front of you offering you a soft smile.

“You don’t have to worry, Alice is going to be fine, remember the blood moon and tonight being the thinnest line between death and life?” She asked you softly looking straight into your eyes, you nodded, somehow her presence made you feel at peace and her words were enough to comfort you.

“Well, I can assure you, Alice is going to be perfectly fine, Agatha was not able to hurt her completely, she just needs time to recover, alright? You don’t have to worry” Rio said to you in a soft way, making you nod, there was something in the way Rio was telling you not to worry that made you erase the worries in your mind.

“Alright, but Agatha did not do it on purpose, you know? I am sure she was not able to control herself” You said to her with your brows furrowed, you were sure Agatha had not done it on purpose, but still seeing what happened had shocked you a little.

Rio laughed and shook her head, she knew the same, she knew Agatha had not mean to do on purpose what happened, you looked so sweet with your brows furrowed, and she understood why Agatha had developed feelings for you, who wouldn’t? She understood why Agatha loved you.

“I know, you and I know that, and I know you would fight anyone who thinks the contrary, but you have to go and tell Agatha you are aware of that” Rio had taken your chin on her hand, looking into your eyes as she was telling you what to do.

You nodded remembering that Agatha had been the first one to leave, and decided to head out to look for her.

Rio saw the way you hurriedly climbed the small stairs and went out to the witches’ road forest, ready to look for Agatha.

“Good girl” Rio said to herself when you finally went completely out of the house.

When you finally were outside, you could see the forest did not have that blue-dark tint to it, now it was different it had changed to a more kind of a yellow tone, the thick fog was still in there.

There were no traces of the other witches, there was no trace of Agatha, and fear started to overwhelm you.

Where had she gone? Had something happened to her? What if the Salem seven had already got to her?

You started to walk following the path and you did not notice the teen quickly turning to look at you from his spot, you passed him without noticing him and after some more minutes of walking you finally heard some grunts.

“Agatha?!” You started to look at your sides, trying to see where the sounds were coming from, feeling desperate for not being able to see where she was, until you noticed a pool of mud on the side of the road, and finally that was where you heard clearly the grunts of Agatha, quickly you went to her and knelt in front of her, taking with both of your hands, the arm of hers that was sticking out of the mud.

“Agatha?! Oh my god, what happened?!” It was clear that the older witch was not going to be able to answer to you due to her being completely covered in mud but still you couldn’t help but asked with worry all over you.

You tried to pull her out from the mud and after some minutes of trying, her other arm was finally out of the mud and you quickly took it as well, her head was also out of the mud and her blue eyes quickly looked at you straight into your eyes.

“You are going to get yourself into this as well, please be careful!” Agatha said out of breath, and you just shook your head.

“I am not stopping until you are out of there, alright?” She pursed her lips and did not complain again, it was so hard, the mud had almost already engulfed her completely and you tried with all of your strength to get her out if it, until you were not sure how it happened but she fell on top of you to the ground on the main path.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry sweetheart, are you hurt?” Agatha quickly asked you, her body still on top of yours, her hands pressed to the ground next to your head, you felt relieved she was finally freed and found it funny the way her face was full of mud as well as her entire body, you were sue she was not even able to see through that thick mud covering her face and eyes, so you pressed your hand on her eyes and carefully wiped some of the mud off her beautiful blue eyes.

“Better?” You asked with a smile on your face and she nodded, you were always so sweet.

She then proceeded to help you stand up and when you were finally standing, you started to wipe more mud off her face.

“Come, let’s go take a seat over there” You told her and stretched your hand out for her to take it.

“Doll, you are going to get yourself dirty, just look at my clothes” She whispered and gave a quick glance to her own clothes and then proceeded to look at you again, she did not want for you to get mud on yourself.

“I don’t mind Agatha, I want to help you, come, please?” You asked with such pleading eyes that she couldn’t say no.

Agatha nodded and took your hand in hers; she felt a little bit ashamed that you were seeing her like that and touching her dirty hands.

Agatha still could not understand why you were so kind and why you loved her.

The two of you arrived at the tree-trunk you had seen and placed the older witch in front of it.

“Let me help you took your coat off, alright?” She nodded and the two of you started to get the coat off her body, it had been so covered in mud that it was a little hard to take it off completely, you put it to the ground next to where you were and started to try and take some more mud off her white blouse.

“I will miss that coat” Agatha murmured while feeling her face getting hotter feeling your hands in her chest and cleaning as best as you could.

“I can go with you to buy another one when we get out of here, those type of coats fit you so good” You said with a smile and looked at her blouse, you were happy with your cleaning work and proceeded to brush the mud off your hands to help her clean a little bit more off her face.

“Now can you sit on there?” You asked her while pointing at the tree-trunk behind her and she nodded, doing as you had asked.

You knelt in front of her and pressed your hands on her forehead, making sure the mud would be gone, Agatha leant into your soft touch, feeling content with your warm touch.

“Even with the mud on your face, you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, you know, the color of the mud really accentuates your blue eyes” You commented to her trying to cheer her up, she was so quiet, something that was not normal when it came to her.

Before you could also check if she was hurt or had scratches on her face, you noticed her eyes got glossy and seconds later, tears started to fall from her eyes, out of instinct you wiped the tears off her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” You quickly took her hands and started to look for any wounds, she chuckled and took your face in her hands, she was looking at you straight into her eyes.

“Why do you love me?” She suddenly asked and you really did not understand her question, you loved her because she was an amazing woman! But seeing the desperate look on her eyes you took her hands on yours and gave her a soft smile, never taking tour eyes away from hers.

“I love you, not only because you are beautiful, or because of your pretty eyes, apart from loving the way you look on the outside, your beautiful  brown hair, the way you walk with so much confidence, the way you move your hands every time you talk, the way you place your hand on your chin whenever you’re creating a plan, or when you are thinking deeply, I love everything about you physically yes, but also, you are an amazing woman, you are much more than what people or even you think, you are the kind of woman that everyone would wish for, I love how smart you are, how funny and sarcastic you can be-“ She started to cry and gave you a bitter laugh before letting you speak again.

“I am a monster! How can you love a monster like me, did you not see what I did to Alice? Have you not heard what every witch says about me?” You waited for Agatha to continue talking, but she stopped and you gave a squeeze to her hands.

“You are not a monster, you were not a monster, and you will never be a monster, alright? What happened to Alice was a mistake, you did not do it on purpose, I know it, because I know you, you are not a bad person, you are only misunderstood, no one takes the chance to actually get to know the real you, because also you always like to act all tough and rude, but I know you are only trying to protect yourself, and I know everything that you passed through, you are also not evil? You hear me? You are no evil Agatha, you are kind, amazing, funny, intelligent, yes you have made some mistakes, but haven’t we all? People don’t know what true evil looks like, but I have seen it, close enough to know that you are not evil, alright? I love you with my whole heart because you are an amazing, incredible woman, please don’t doubt it for a second” You had not realized you had also started to cry as well and before you could react Agatha engulfed you in a tight hug, you passed your arms over her shoulders, letting her hug you as long as she wanted, you started to run circles down her back, trying to soothe her.

After some minutes, she pulled you away just a little to look into your eyes again.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, you are the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, you really are amazing doll, I know I may not have told this as much as I would like, but I do love you, with my whole life, I would do anything to protect you, to keep you safe, I don’t want to be without you” You gave her a smile and felt your heart jump a beat, wiping more tears off her face she pulled you close to her to press a soft kiss to your lips.

After feeling the need to breathe again, she separated a little from you to press her forehead against yours.

You could sense she was not agitated anymore; her heartbeat had calmed down; she was feeling a little bit more relaxed and decided to ask her what had happened.

“I got so scared not seeing you here outside for a minute, how did you end up there?” You inquired and felt her hand caressing the skin of your neck.

Agatha straightened herself a little and sighed, you waited for her to answer your question patiently.

“The teenager is Wanda Maximoff’s son, Billy” She said to you in a whisper and you gasped, how could it be? The last time you saw them, he was only a little kid! Agatha noticed your expression and sensed the change in your mood, she quickly pressed her hands on your shoulders and rubbed them softly.

“I know what you are thinking, and even though I still don’t have all of the answers on how, his soul left Westview when Wanda’s hex was destroyed, and somehow, he managed to find a vessel to keep living, he does not know who he is completely, apparently he only remembers the last three years of his life, but does not remember anything apart from that, he tricked all of us, and the reason why we could not hear him was because of the sigil” You were shocked, how was it possible that he had been there on Westview all the time? Wanda! Wanda was gone because she sacrificed herself to destroy every copy of the darkhold looking for her children.

Memories of your time on Westview came rushing to your mind, when you had arrived at the town with Wanda, the way she created your own room at her house, when you met Agatha, oh well, Agnes at the time, the way she had told you the truth about her true self, the times you had passed with Wanda and the twins as a family, when you had babysat the twins with Agatha, you still missed that life, too perfect to be true, but when Wanda’s hex was destroyed, the twins disappearing, Vision as well, Wanda leaving you completely alone to go search for her children, the way you had stayed with Agatha, the spell she had been under, you had pleaded Wanda to let Agatha free, but she did not listen, at least Agnes under the spell thought you were her wife and you moved in with her to take care of her, even if she was not aware; the teen releasing her from the spell, Agatha and you talking about what had happened, she thanking you for staying with her all these three years, her telling you for the first time how she had fallen in love with you during your time in Westview, and finally you were there, with her walking down the witches’ road.

“Are you alright doll?” You heard Agatha asking you while she shook you slightly your shoulder, you gave her a sad smile and sat down on the ground in front of her.

“Why did he throw you off the road?” You felt yourself frowning, he could have hurt her, and then you remembered you had not seen Lilia nor Jenn, it was as if she had read your mind.

“Lilia and Jenn threw me in the mud, he made them do it and then telepathically he did the same to them” She explained to you while caressing your hair softly.

“Where are they? He just did it because he was angry?” You wondered out loud, and again you smiled sadly.

“Exactly like Wanda, always acting according to her emotions” Agatha nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead, you leant into her touch and suddenly you heard some leaves being stepped on by someone, you quickly turned your head, hoping you would see Lilia or Jenn, but instead Billy was walking slowly towards the two of you.

You quickly stood up, standing in front of Agatha, but you felt Agatha grabbing your hand tightly.

“He is angry, Billy is mad, he knows who he is, at least a part of who he is, he knows what happened, please don’t go to him, he has powers, his powers are like his mother’s, and just like her, his magic is tied to his emotions, he does not know how to control it, I am afraid he can hurt you” Agatha was begging you not to go near him, and even if his powers were like Wanda’s, yours were alike, you were not afraid of him, and would not let him hurt Agatha.

 You gave Agatha a soft smile and let go of her hand, you decided to walk closer to Billy, to stop him from walking towards Agatha, he noticed that you were angry and the closer you got to him he rose his eyebrows, he quickly lifted his hands on the air to let you know he was not going to do anything.

You frowned and when you were standing centimeters away from him, you saw the tears on his eyes, his eyes looked so familiar yet so different, and the memories of the little boy who liked to play board games and liked wearing a red cape came rushing to your mind.

“Billy?” You said with a small voice, your tears were glossy, tears ready to fall down your face, you could not believe that one of the twins was there in front of you, that he had been there with you the whole time, how had you not noticed it? For sure it was because of the sigil he used to have, but how was it possible he was there, and he looked completely different from the small bot you used to babysit at Wanda’s place?

“Is it you really? Are you Billy Maximoff? Are you really here again?” You asked this time you could not help the tears from falling down.

He felt awful for not being able to recognize you, but the way you were talking to him seemed too familiar, too warm and it made his heart ache, he wanted to remember so desperately.

“I don’t know, I don’t know who you are, or who am I” The teen in front of you said with tears on his face.

“What do you remember about me? How do you know me?” He asked you softly and you smiled remembering all the times you had babysat him and his brother, the day you had seen them for the first time, the way Wanda told you they were your baby brothers.

“I arrived with Wanda at Eastview, she took me with her, she had promised me we would have a new fresh start, that we would be a family, that she finally would take care of me and we would be finally happy, she was always so sweet to me, always checking on me, treating me like if I was her own daughter, then you two arrived” Billy felt his heart beating faster.

“Wanda got pregnant, and when she finally had you in her arms, she called for me to present to me my…” You had to cover your mouth before continuing what you were telling him, the pain in your chest getting bigger.

“She had told me that you were my baby brothers” You had sobbed when the two of them disappeared with the Hex, Wanda had been full of sorrow, full of pain in her, that she even left you alone there on Westview.

“I saw how you grew up in just a matter of some months, you were always the calmest of the two of you, Tommy always speeding and making everything fall to the floor with his speed” You recalled with a sad smile in your face.

“You always were reading people’s minds, not on purpose of course, I remember you told me once that my mind was quiet, and you also said the same to Agatha” You said to him looking at the ground.

“Tommy liked to play video games with me, always begging me to play that fighting game, even your mother actually did not like him playing it, but you always preferred playing board games, always choosing the same token, the-“

“The crown token!” He suddenly blurted out, surprised of remembering something.

“Yes, you always said that it reminded you of Wanda, your mother, Tommy did not like to play board games, but when we played all together a board game, it was “Uno”, Wanda always got mad because Agatha always managed to win” You said bitterly, missing the old days, that seemed perfect.

“Wanda and I always tried to team up to beat her, and you and Tommy would always team up to beat us all, but in the end, Agatha always managed to win” You commented while hugging yourself.

“Why are you with her? Why are you with Agatha, you knew what she did, you saw her! She tricked all of us! You are too good for her; she is evil and deceitful!”

Billy said to you with anger, his tears were still falling down his face.

And you shook your head at him.

“You don’t know her the way I do, people used to say the same about Wanda your mother-“

“She is not my mother, I have a mother” He said to you his face full of anger, he was really a moody teenager, and you laughed, he frowned not understanding what was so funny.

“I am walking alone the witches’ road, I will get to the end alone” He said to you standing straight and crossing his arms in his chest, he was so stubborn that it made you laugh again.

“Listen Billy, I know you are hurt, confused, I know things have not been easy for you, but neither for anyone, listen, you want to get to the end of the road, go ahead and do it, I will stay here and make sure Agatha is fine, and also make sure Lilia and Jenn are alright, I know you were angry, but you have to learn, to control your temper, Lilia and Jenn did not do anything to you, and yet you threw them in the air, we do not even know if they are fine!” You really tried to understand him, but his attitude was not helping, Billy looked at you with a guilty look on his face, and you only shook your head to start walking towards the direction you had come from.

“And you really don’t know what Wanda Maximoff did for you, what she sacrificed looking for you, you have no idea what she did, everything she did because of you and Tommy, so you better start thinking twice and replanting what you believe” You said before turning around completely and going to look for Agatha to start the search of Lilia and Jenn.

Billy stood there, on the middle of the road, thinking what you had said to him, he had not been waiting for you to just let him standing there, he did not know what to do, so he sat back on the ground.

You arrived next to Agatha, and knelt in front of her, she was looking at you with curiosity and concern.

“Can we look for Lilia and Jenn? I just want to make sure they are fine, I know we have to keep walking the road, but I want to make sure they are fine, please?” You begged her, and she nodded, she stood up and you stretched your hand for her to take it, she took it but quickly went and placed that same hand in your waist, giving your waist a soft squeeze, you smiled feeling a little bit better.

“Let’s go look for them, I know Billy is going to look for us sooner or later, but he has to think what he did and what he thinks and believes” Agatha smiled and pulled you closer to her.

“You are so brave, I still wish to have my powers to be the one protecting you” You only smiled at her, continue to walk, trying to sense if you could feel Lilia and Jenn anywhere, Agatha knew you would not stop until you found them, and she smiled again, she could really not believe how lucky she was for having you, she was not going to let you go anywhere, and she sworn to take you to the end of the road safe, after all, you were her everything, and she would make sure you were happy, safe and secured, you were her rock and she would do everything to keep you with her.

[reverseexorcist]

★ 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝 ★

"If it's alright could I request Carmilla Carmine x a fem reader who's a fallen angel? Like maybe they met during extermination and got their wings ripped off for not wanting to kill Carmilla's kids or they were already in hell with Carmilla for some time before the extermination? If you don't want to do this that's totally fine, and sorry if this isn't how to request stuff :)."

Honestly, with how this ended, I'm really tempted to write a much fluffier part 2 to this

Part 2 ↫ Right here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,462 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, descriptions of gore/blood, canonical Lute slander (sorry Lute), romantic or platonic wasn't requested so I went with platonic to fit the story more (if the requester wants romantic just feel free to ask me), mother mode Carmilla (she might be a bit ooc because of this),

Oh wow.

Oh wow were you shaking.

You couldn't tell if it was from the excitement or the nerves - Probably both if you were being honest with yourself, but you couldn't shake off the vibrating feeling tingling beneath your skin that made you want to fly laps around heaven. Your stomach was doing flips, but you led mask only reflected your nearly psychopathic grin and twitching eye.

Even after your lieutenant Lute shot you a stern look, no doubt pissed off because you couldn't sit still for five goddamn seconds, you still couldn't resist fidgeting with your spear. It was sparkly, and somewhat heavy, and a murderous weapon that was entirely yours! It was also cold, freezing almost. Even against your gloves it made your palms feel numb and seemed to shine in sync with your own valiant excitement.

Baby's first extermination, basically. While the name certainly sounded scary, you'd been waiting for this day for six months (you and the other forty-five cadets in your platoon) and you were ready to do your best! Sure, you were still technically a rookie, hanging around the flock and bringing up the rear of the exorcists, but this was how you proved yourself to rise the ranks, right?

Your heart stopped beating in your chest when you finally reached the front. Holy shit, that was the high seraphim! Sera, right? Oh wow, she really was much much taller in person, towering above the clustering sea of black and white murderous intent. Her outward vibe was motherly and caring, but you could see the glint of distain, guilt and regret sparking in the deepest depths of her eyes. Which was confusing, because you were doing a good thing, right? Ridding the divine planes of sinners irredeemable souls.

The thoughts crowded your mind - Evil, twisted monsters crawling around like bugs in the brimstone crowded crevices of hell. You could only imagine the satisfaction of killing your first hell spawn.

It would have to be cool no doubt. Something big with lots of teeth and claws and that could breathe fire! You had to come home with a cool story to brag about. You'd heard the tales from all your superiors. From everyone including the first man Adam himself, your respectably awesome (if a little terrifying) lieutenant Lute, to the other lieutenants like Michael and Gabriel. You'd have to off a demon built like a mountain to get their attention.

And by the big man himself, you were going to do it. Even if it took you a hundred years, you could already see yourself commanding a group just like yours, bearing a helmet with horns big and curved and bold, black stripes stippled along your ivory wings.

With a very particular pep in your step, you saluted the high seraphim Sera respectively, head cocked up just so you could regard her kindly warmth in fullness. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, and although she swiftly sent you on your way with the rest of your platoon, you couldn't help but let your nerves sway your resolve ever so slightly.

It didn't matter though! You unfurled your wings with perhaps a bit too much of a dramatic flair, but with your spear in hand and helm polished so it shined with malevolent glory, you kicked off without a second thought, tailing right behind where you were supposed to be.

Your first impression of hell was the heat.

With the extermination already well under way, raging fires were already burning up half of the city sending whorls of smog up into the air. You easily battered it away with a few strong flaps of your wings. With your head on the swivel, your eagle-eyes peered around the desolate land for the forms of the sinners struggling to thrive below, silhouettes hidden by the thick layer of smoke and ash blanketing the landscape.

Lieutenant Lute furled out her wings below you, a screeching war cry echoing throughout the battlefield as she all but left your rookie platoon in the metaphorical dust. The sound itself only spurred you on, itching for the blood of a demon on the blade of your angelic spear. Without a second thought, you tucked your wings to you sides and dived below, headfirst into the fray.

Billowing flames licked past you harmlessly, though they burned like hell (which seemed rather apt, considering where you). You didn't falter, flying through the embers like a goddamn phoenix ready to cleanse the realm sprawled out beneath you. The solid wingbeats of two of your fellow cadets only strengthened your resolution, a holy fire burning in your soul - An itch to clear the filth of devil scum away. This was the chaotic strength that your captain had sought to build in you, and now you were finally able to act on it.

But everywhere you looked, you only found simple, humanoid souls running and screaming in terror. Eyes wide, half-dead or bloodied beyond belief as they scrambled to find shelter from the onslaught of exorcists like yourself. Nowhere could you see the mangled forms of the demons you'd been taught to slaughter. Descriptions from your seniors before you passed through your mind - 'gleaming eyes with with wrath and lust', 'gangly limbs twisted to an unholy form', 'mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth, and claws like knives'.

You faltered, confused. The words of Lute rang out in your mind.

"Of course, it's not like they can actually hurt you. You're all warriors, the toughest, just use your spears to stab the shit out of them!"

You were alone now. You couldn't hear the comforting sounds of your fellow rookies behind you anymore. They were well in front of you now, peering around with a similar confusion to yours. But to your absolute horror, they simply shrugged their shoulders and dived forward with bloodlust evident in their glowing white masks. Silver points of spears were jammed through the heads of the terrified demons below. But were they demons? They didn't look like them at all. Every single book you'd seen depicting demons drew them as eldritch monsters with too many eyes to count, tentacles and claws and fangs with nary but bloodlust and vile thoughts hidden within their slitted eyes.

But the demons in front of you looked just like people. You could see the way their faces contorted in terror. You could see them scrambling to help what you could only assume were friends and family, pulling them along and carrying the ones who couldn't run for themselves. You could only feel your heart fall as you watched one of your best friends land on top of a sinner already crushed by rubble, turquoise skin stained red. The begged and pleaded and cried, but their voice was silenced as the spearhead sunk into their skull.

You flinched. The world around you ignored you completely, and for once, you were completely happy to go unnoticed.

Shakily, you touched-down in a nearby street. It was littered with already oozing corpses, but other than that it was peacefully empty. At least here the sounds of violence and pain and terror was muffled, far away enough that you could at least try to distance yourself and get your breathing under control.

You barely reeled in a gag as the smell of blood invaded your senses.

Was this really what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? You could still see yourself in your mind's eye, a model exorcist like your lieutenant now leading her own platoon into another extermination. Maybe this would be a one off, just a shock to the system that would get your mind reworked into killing mode. But, the more you thought about it, the more your heart clenched in pain and terror that seemingly matched the suffering souls around you. You were an agent of heaven, you thought you were killing mindless monsters, not those with human souls! Sure, there were probably shitty people fucking around down here, but what about all those who had to sin in self defence?

A chorus of startled gasps startled you out of your panic ridden stupor. Your wings flared up, trying to make yourself look bigger, more threatening as you wheeled around. The spear in your hands looked more like a prop at this point, and it was clear that you had minimal idea how to use it inside a proper battle. But still, you fumbled with it and pointed it threateningly in the direction of the two demons that had appeared right behind you.

They clutched each other, stumbling backwards and further away from the danger of your angelic weapon. One of them placed an arm in front of the other, her eyes narrowing behind her red-tinted glasses as if she was both terrified by you, but was daring you to do something about it.

But still, you could see them shaking from where you stood. They both seemed rooted to the ground, the one with platinum blonde hair refused to take her eyes off of you, but the demon behind her (maybe her sister? A friend?) was looking around nervously.

You could see yourself reflected in those crimson specs, and for once it made you freeze. You'd seen yourself in uniform plenty of times before, the steel boots and guard gloves and the led, horned helmet, but it always seemed almost comforting before. When you were surrounded by your cohorts, it made you fit in. Out here, you realised, you were the monster.

The ever-present smile on your mask shrunk, falling into a grimace as your grip on your weapon tightened. Your wings drew in, you shrunk backwards, almost stumbling over your own feet in the process of trying your hardest to get away. You never wanted to scare people.

So drowned by your own confusion and fear and reckless thoughts of worry about the future that you didn't notice the confusion growing the faces of the demons in front of you turn into abject horror as a far more ominous silhouette grew behind you.

"I thought I taught you not to hesitate," Lute growled in your ear, placing her free hand on your shoulder and digging her fingers in till your were sure a bruise was marred into your skin. You didn't respond, couldn't even if you wanted to. The trembling that rattled you only grew stronger, and you fumbled as your hands cramped painfully. With a resounding clatter, your spear dropped from your grasp an on to the brazen brimstone floor.

Lute growled.

She didn't say anything, but she knew. The both of you knew by now. You couldn't kill a sinner.

Lute didn't even hesitate before shoving you to the ground. Your head collided with solid stone painfully even with your helmet on, stars shining behind your eyes as her words blurred together as she pressed her foot firmly between your shoulder blades. Your wings shivered and spread involuntarily, and you feared the moments that would come next. Lute was unpredictable, but this could only end with bloodshed.

The two girls still hadn't moved, transfixed in horror as they watched the scene in front of them play out.

Asphalt stung your hands and you tried to claw your way to freedom, fingertips digging into the scorched Earth as you started crying. Lute, however, was stronger than you. Of course she was, she'd been doing this for centuries, and you were still a fledging on her first trip out of heaven.

You never thought it would end like this.

Lute dug her fingers into your wings, tangling into your still downy feathers before she yanked with all her might. The scream she tore from your lips was hellish, agonising, yet the blended with the sounds of violence all around you. You were sure you blacked out several times throughout the process, but by the time your old lieutenant was done with you, barely anything but feathery stumps and golden blood remained of your wings.

You could only curl up, cry and watch as Lute tossed clumps of feathers aside as she stalked toward the two demons that still hadn't had the thought to run. And for the first time in your life, you felt sorry for the sinners that populated hell's ring of wrath.

She would make them suffer, that was for sure. If she was happy enough to tear of another angel's wings, you could only imagine what she would do to a sinner. You didn't want to imagine, and your mind was fuzzy enough that you thankfully didn't have to.

The sound of something sharp rang throughout the air. It made you groan in pain, the sound piercing your ears and making your brain rattle in your skull. Sharp - 'Tink tink tink tink tink.' If you could see the look of relief coming across the demons faces, a part of you might've urged Lute to run. Only, she had just torn your wings off with little qualm, and now you had no shits left to give if she lived or not.

The exorcist never got the chance to strike, her weapon torn from her hands and thrown across the street till it collided with a bloody body. Lute herself barely had time to react before she was struck over the head once, then twice in rapid succession. A whirlwind of white and angelic steel and pure fury launched herself in the path between the two demons and the exorcist. It was almost exhilarating to watch, seeing Lute strike out with her fists in a pathetic attempt of hand to hand combat against her new foe. Whoever they were, they were really fucking fast, almost too fast for you to keep up with.

The fight was over before it started. Without her weapon, Lute couldn't do much against the sinner she was pitted against, and as ruthless as she was, she knew when a battle was lost. In a flurry of black and white feathers, she fled. And then the newcomer's attention was shifted to you.

At this point, you would've welcomed death. The pain alone was making you drift slightly, and you didn't even have the energy left to groan when whoever nudged you slightly with something hard and cold.

"Mother.." The words were so soft, floating away from your ears.

"We need to leave." It was undoubtably her. That voice was the one who beat Lute into the ground.

"What about..?" That was the one who called out for mother.

"Won't she tattle?" So that had to be her sister.

Those words sent a dose of adrenaline through you. With as much strength as you could muster, you clawed yourself into an upwards position. You could feel the clotting blood running down your back, but if you were going to die, you at least wanted to do so with some dignity.

Shakily, with much more effort than was really desired, you reached up and peeled your helmet off.

It clattered noisily like glass against the floor, and suddenly the world was much brighter, much more red and the air was laced with more sulphur and death than you could imagine. But what really surprised you was the look of shock written across the sinner's face.

She was tall. Really tall. The only person who could really compete was Seraphim Sera or maybe Adam, but you really couldn't tell with how delirious you were.

"Una niña?" They all looked surprised.

The one called mother took a few steps forward, confusion and anger clearly present in her eyes. But, as she kneeled down in front of your comparatively tiny form, you realised the anger wasn't directed at you.

"Did she try to hurt you?" She turned back to face her daughters. They both shared a look, but ultimately shook their heads no. That right there, was your saving grace.

She looked back at you, hair pinned into high horns, and took your helmet in her large hands. She passed it off to one of her daughters, before gently scooping you into her hold.

You whined, writhing minutely in her hold as the searing phantom pain of your wings being torn off returned. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, and yet the demoness tutted softly, shushing you like you were a baby.

Her daughters followed without a word, and you and the family unit moved swiftly through the desolate roads. So many questions were running through your mind, and yet you couldn't find the answer to any of them, your thoughts to lost to the fog of blood loss to ever truly return.

"You better not betray me," Were the last words you heard before promptly passing out.

The plushness of a soft blanket was the first thing you felt waking up. For a moment, you felt nothing but relief realising the entire thing had been a horrid nightmare, but when you tried to rustle the numbness out of your wings, the relief was replaced with horror when you realised that your wings were just straight up missing, only two feathery stumps remaining in their place.

That made you shoot up in horror. You didn't even care about the sharp sting that ran down your spine and into your very being, you were a bit too concerned about your current predicament.

"You're awake."

That made you promptly scream before ducking under the covers like you were a nestling again. A soft sigh reached your ears, but you dared not to venture out from the warmth of the thick covers.

Not like you had a choice, though, as you were soon pried away from their safety. It was her, the demoness with the high-pinned buns. She looked down on you, red eyes glowing in the low light, and yet, you couldn't sense a smidge of hatred towards you. Only distrust and sadness laced her expression.

"How old are you?" She asked after the silence had gone on long enough.

"I'm a fledgling," Is all you said. You didn't really fancy giving too much information. Although, the look of horror the crossed her face maybe suggested that you'd already given away plenty.

"Obligan a los niños a hacer esto?" She raised a hand and carded it through her snowy tresses, locks of white hair threaded loose as she paced back and forth. You only watched her, slowly sinking back into the comfort of the warm blankets.

"You're still a child." It was a statement.

You hated being a child. You didn't want to be a child, at least, you hadn't wanted to be a child in the past. You wanted to join the ranks of the exorcists, and to do that you at least needed to be juvenile. Hell, you were lucky enough to make it into the cadets while you still had baby feathers decorating your wings. But now, the fact that yes, you were still technically a kid made your saviour look upon you with more than just disdain and hatred like any other exorcist, but rather she looked upon you with an emotion that you'd never seen before, and not one you could really name.

"You are a child, and now you have fallen," She eyed your mostly healed wing stumps, and you couldn't help but reflexively flex them anxiously. The literal weight off your back made you want to cry.

"Was this your first extermination?" She gazed upon you with a guarded look. You nodded.

"And you didn't hurt my daughters?" Another nod from you. That seemed to make her relax just a tad.

"Could you ever hurt someone?" That made you pause, the memories of the extermination rushing back to you full force. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes, and still, you answered with a simple 'no'.

She exhaled a sigh of relief before closing the distance and kneeling down to your eye level.

"Carmilla Carmine." She reached a hand out toward you. So that was her name.

You clutched your hands close to your chest, fearing her touch, but gave her your name anyway.

"What are you gonna do with me?" You asked, voice cracking. Her gaze softened, finally letting her guard slip for just a moment.

"Well, you weren't going to make it out there by yourself. You'll be staying with me," The words took a moment to sink into your mind. Well, at least it was better than death.

Gently, like she was working with a scared animal, Carmilla coaxed you out from the comfort of the bed, slowly ushering you to her side. With your wings missing and their remains bandaged, head bare and missing your exorcist helmet, it felt like the safest place in the world.

"Welcome to Hell."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟼

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), angst, hurt, language, mention of sexual assault (the deep, homelander)

Word Count: 5002

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You did your best to ignore Ben throughout the past week, despite the fact that you have not spoken much. Despite your immediate interruption, Ben was eager to continue his conversation with you. Furthermore, with all of the Vought business, things were becoming crazy. Not much had changed with Mindstorm, even though you and Ben continued to appear on TV every night on the news.

Ben was difficult to deal with and had a difficult personality in general. Now he was willing to get a little intimate, and he wasn't pushing you away this time, which left you confused and angry. In the past, you always pushed hard to be with him in every minute and every second, as if you were obsessed with him, even though he was occasionally distant from you when he didn't like being with you. If he had stayed as the same jerk from decades before, it would be simpler.

Actually, you were upset with yourself for allowing yourself to be affected by him. It was quite simple for him to show you compassion and behave as though he genuinely cared about you. It's highly likely that you were the most naive or stupid person to fall for him. You had admitted to him that you no longer loved him, and you weren't even ready to be honest with yourself about it. But at least you knew this: you shouldn't forget the damage that he had done to your heart since it was far more severe and strong than anything he had ever made you feel.

“Hey, it looks like you're deep in thought. Are you alright?” As you two watched a movie together, Annie asked. 

Ben, Hughie, and Butcher had gone shopping before coming back. Ben asked you to go out with them since you haven't left the house for a very long time, but even though you really wanted to go out, you refused to spend time with them, with him in fact. As much as you could hear, Frenchie and Kimiko were in their rooms playing video games.

“I wasn't,” you held your head in a mumble. “Maybe I'm just tired.”

“It seems like you're missing going out,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You know, things may be a little rough around these places, but you wouldn't be noticed. You can take in some fresh air.”

You gave her a meek grin and lied, saying, “I'm not in the mood.” You were actually itching to leave the house and breathe some fresh oxygen. It was as though you were choosing to be in a cage. “It's better to stay here until things get a bit better at least.”

“I actually don't know if it will though, but let's hope.”

Annie went on, “By the way, I'm sorry for my attitude toward you, weeks earlier. I suppose I was a little impolite, rude, and judgmental of you.”

Her abrupt admission and apology surprised you, but it also made you feel a little better. You whispered, “It's okay; I would be meaner if I were in your shoes. I am aware that trusting someone is difficult.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad about it,” she added, looking shy and placing her hands on her legs. “I should not have treated you the same way since I know how comfortable the firm is with lying to the public about you for the sake of themselves. The things I went through while I was a member of the Seven were similarly horrible. It wasn't right to judge you right away, not when I know the dynamics between the public and the firm and how it feels.” 

Her genuineness toward you made your heart melt. “It's actually not that bad. Don't let it bother you. I'm simply relieved that you don't feel the same way about me anymore.” You asked her gently, wanting to build a connection, “What have they done to you?”

She inhaled deeply, looked around the room as if she were searching for words, and then blurted out, “I am..sexually assaulted.” 

You whispered, “Oh, god,” and supportively touched her hand. “Can I ask... who?”

“I'm not sure if you've seen him on television. The Deep,” she muttered scornfully. “And Homelander is no different than him.”

“Yes, I did see him on television. Fucking bitch fish,” you mumbled. “You mean Homelander is the same as him. Is he also..?”

“Don't tell Butcher that I told you; don't actually mention it ever, but his wife was raped by Homelander.”

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief, and you were silent for a long moment.

“That is.. horrible. I have absolutely no idea what to say.” At last, you murmured, “I can't believe Vought is full of disgusting vile men,” remembering Butcher's expression when you had questioned him about Homelander. He was quite right and had his own reason.

“Yes,” Annie said in a sour tone. “No matter how many decades have passed, Vought is still the same asshole, whether you're a Supe woman or not. In actuality, they have gotten worse.”

“Leaving them behind was the right decision, and having Hughie with you is a gift.” You mentioned their relationship in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He seems like a very gentle and kind guy,” you remarked. “It's a good thing he's not supe. He has to understand who is in charge.”

Annie blushed and laughed when you brought up her lover. “Yeah, he's unlike anyone else. He's one of the key reasons I am here. I'm happy we got to meet.”

“By the way,” she muttered in a lighthearted manner. “What about Soldier Boy and you? It's obvious there is something between you two, even if I know you're going to deny it. Do you have a friends with benefits thing?” 

Confused, you asked, “What is it?”

“Well, it's just a term for people you know who have sex but continue to be friends. You don't grow any feelings or attachments for each other. It's all about sex.”

After considering the phrase she used a moment to reflect, you finally responded, “No, no, actually we are not something like that.” Leaning back in the coach, you whispered, “It's a bit complicated, actually,” as you recalled every memory you had of him. Your cheeks heated and your heart raced as you recalled the last conversation you had with him, the time you orgasmed on top of him. 

Annie may have noticed the shift in the body and smiled slyly, “It's probably not that difficult. But I had assumed that he was with the Crimson Countess. They must have been fan favorites or something.”

Annie's mention of Crimson made you uneasy. Because Ben had chosen her over you, knowing she was gone didn't provide you any comfort. You felt awful, thinking back on those dreadful times and how badly Ben had broken your heart. It was difficult to embrace such memories. 

You murmured, “We were a thing,” and acknowledged it. “Before Countess joined Payback.”

She just exclaimed, “Oh,” in an astonished tone, after realizing what you meant. “He's a vile asshole.”

“Yeah,” was all you said. “So, we are no longer a thing. Until that situation gets solved, I'm just going to hide like this, like a submissive rat. I don't want to deal with anything, but I'm not sure what to do after. Though I sincerely hope you succeed in eliminating the Seven—especially those bastards—I no longer want to be a part of it. I hope you can understand my reasons.”

“Obviously, you don't have to participate in anything or do anything, but your strength and assistance would be really helpful. It will be simple to make amends after Homelander dies, and you'll be free. I only hope Soldier Boy can kill him off. If not, we're not even sure what to do.”

“He made a deal with Butcher and promised him to kill Homelander.” You were aware of Ben's strength, and you could not see any other Supe being able to damage or beat him. “Once he made up his mind for something, Ben never stops until he gets it done.” 

Annie responded, "That's a relief," and she smiled a little. "Hey, let's not miss the movie," she murmured, gazing at the TV.

You nodded and offered her a feeble smile. You quickly grabbed your phone off the pillow when you noticed a notification, glancing at Annie as she got back to eating popcorn and watching TV.

Naturally, it was Ben who sent the message.

“?Do you need something????”

How considerate.

After giving Annie one more look, you leaned back on the coach to take up a more comfortable position.

You typed, “No.” after giving it some thought and then waited for another notification.

He was typing, typing, typing and typing.. It was taking taking him to write something for so long you got frustrated at some point. Then you finally got another notification.

“?Sure?????”

Asshole. Instead of punching your phone, you took a long breath. Although you were itching to argue with him over the phone, you tried to divert your attention to the movie Annie was watching.

You received another notification almost five minutes later. Ben had sent a blinking eye emoji. It seemed as though he was aware of how angry you were at the moment. You let out an irate sigh, grabbed your phone, and informed Annie that you would be in your room.

With a sense of relief that your period had finally ended, you took a shower. Ben knocked on your door, which was already open, and you made a tiny sound to let him in just as you were getting out of the shower, wrapped in a short towel. 

“Hey,” he remarked in a low voice, clearing his throat and quickly shutting the door to ensure that no one would see you half naked and wet. Ben went straight to your room after learning that Annie and Hughie would be staying tonight. It surprised you that he didn't argue with them about his bedroom. “Why is your door open all the time? Someone might have saw you; you're almost naked.”

As you kept using the towel to dry your hair, you rolled your eyes at him. “If someone was watching me, I'd known it, Ben.”

“And,” you said as you raised an eyebrow. “Someone is already watching.”

Ben inhaled deeply as he searched for a way to express how you had managed to rile him up. Okay,.

“It's not the same,” he asserted in a quiet yet assured tone as he observed you discarding the towel you used to dry your hair on the bed and opening the wardrobe to find something to wear. “And why didn't you text me back?”

You muttered, “Tell me how it's different.” and glanced at him as he approached cautiously, his fingertips resting on the furniture. “And well, because I was busy.”

“You already know why,” he remarked, licking his lips as he kept examining your body. Refusing to remember your orgasm on top of him while you were just getting your period was making him hard. Considering that you had never had a period while being together for a considerable amount of time, he questioned why you would now be getting one after all this time. 

You merely replied, “No, I don't know,” hoping to provoke him just a little bit. 

He continued shamelessly, “We fucked and still get off together; that's why, baby,” and you blushed. “Though we are not very active compared to the past, which is upsetting of course.” 

You opened your lips to deny and dispute with him, but you stopped yourself after taking a deep breath. You knew he would try hard to make your cheeks blush even more. 

You found a t-shirt and some underwear, which you put on the bed while you shut the wardrobe. At last, you were able to remember Annie's comments and say, “We were friends with benefits.” 

If you were the same person today, you would actually detest the idea, but since you are more grounded in reality, you can accept the circumstances as they are. In contrast to you, he had never developed feelings for you, which proved Annie. 

“What the hell is that?” Ben asked in an angry tone. He thought your statement sounded terrible and didn't like it at all. Ben sat on your bed as you hurriedly put on your t-shirt and underwear. Ben's hard look on your bare back was palpable. 

“It means engaging in sexual activity without developing an emotional bond. You maintain your friendship while having sex nevertheless.” You essentially gave him an explanation of it as though you'd known about it for a long time. “Getting off together is included.” 

Ben winced as you described the most idiotic and stupid type of relationship as though it were the most ordinary thing imaginable. “Who taught you such stupid stuff?” He asked furiously, unable to help but feel irritated that you weren't bothered by it. 

“Annie told me about it.”

Ben groaned as he removed his shoes and lay down on your bed. “It's not shocking that an ignorant woman is bombarding your thoughts with modern nonsense. I should have known only she could say such a stupid fucking thing. That must be her relationship with Hughie. Fuck, it's not shocking that he can't open his mouth while he is with her. What a fucking weak pussy.”

“Oh, god, don't talk about them in this way. Ben, they have a connection, a real one, a healthy one,” you murmured as he spoke in the most irritating tone imaginable. It was annoying that he didn't even take into account the nature of your previous relationship. “For the record, he is not concealing his relationship with Annie and vice versa. She really did walk out of the Seven. The company most likely had no approval of their relationship.”

“Touché,” he replied, observing your face fall as you sat on the bed and cast a dejected glance in his direction. He continued, “But our relationship was... health too,” when you turned away from him and lay down in bed.

You mumbled, “Sure,” and settled up in bed as comfortably as possible. Ben's huge and strong body was covering the majority of already limited space. It took a lot of work to stay away from him. 

Ben sighed as he watched your back longingly and heard your slow, deep breathing, as if you were holding back all you wanted to say. He was prepared to start over, make adjustments, and put things right even though he knew he deserved your attitude and that it would be preferable to push them beneath the debris, but he wanted you back so badly.

Ben finally murmured, “I care about you,” struggling to find the right words. “Very much.”

Ben tried to tell you how he felt, but it was difficult because you were constantly pushing him away. 

You quickly turned to face him since you didn't want to look at the walls any longer. “Did you care about me when you fucked Countess?” 

“Oh god, I didn't even fuck her,” he exclaimed harshly as soon as you brought up the redhead wily bitch. Because Stan Edgar was causing so much trouble, he should have killed him. 

When he revealed that he hadn't fucked Crimson before, you gasped. You just kept staring at him in bewilderment and surprise, as though you were about to dispute with him. You managed to whisper, “Liar,” not sure if he was telling you the truth or not. 

With an upset voice, he added, “Fuck, I'm not lying,” and he placed his right hand under his head. “I was told to have a relationship with her for the media by Stan fucking Edgar. Son of a bitch.” 

Ben was telling you the truth, and you could tell by the look in his eyes. You had no idea what to say at all because he was acting so very serious right now. You always assumed they were going all the way since they were always kissing when they were together and posing for pictures with the media. 

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” you asked, glancing out the window behind you as Ben hesitated. 

“I know, it's still unfair,” Ben said, attempting, though he was never very successful, to express himself. “I wasn't fair to you. You remain the last woman I have touched, even after all this time. I'm not sure if that means anything now. That's all I need you to know.”

You mumbled, “It's still cheating, Ben.” After his admission regarding Crimson, words were difficult to come by. You didn't want to admit it, but it did feel a bit better knowing he didn't touch Crimson Countess.

Ben opened his mouth to deny it, but then he sighed as he saw your look, which was a mix of disappointment and sorrow. There was no turning back to undo the damage he had done. What was done was done. He only hoped he could figure out a way to get your love back the way it used to be—with all of your devotion, passion, honesty, and loyalty. 

You asked gently, almost in a desperate tone that would make you loathe yourself, “Why did you leave me?”

As he saw how vulnerable you were, Ben softened his gaze and shifted positions in the bed, hesitantly moving closer to your face. Thankfully, you didn't even flinch, instead looking at him expectantly, as if you were ready to forgive him and let everything go. But he was aware that you were not yet prepared for that. You needed time, and he could give you everything you needed.

Ben found it difficult to speak as his fingers gently traced your hand. When he finally confessed, “Stan Edgar knew our relationship,” he was unwilling to tell you how much he was mistaken about you and how manipulating he was about you at the time.

You asked gently, “Did he want you to be with Crimson?” as if you understood him. 

It wasn't necessary for you to know how Stan Edgar found out about you. It would be shocking if Stan was unaware of you and Ben during the final months of your relationship because you two were acting quite recklessly. 

“Yeah,” he responded simply, meeting your eyes with his darkened ones. He seemed ready to act as he continued to study your wet lips and hair. 

His face continued to inch closer to yours as his one hand traced around yours, but you remained motionless. He was cautiously gauging your response every second. 

You mumbled, “Yet,” unable to stop your heart from racing when he was that close. “I don't want to love you ever again.”

With a groan, his soft lips found yours before you could even finish your sentence, and you were left wondering who started the kiss first.

When he eventually realized you had kissed him back, even if it seemed like your kisses were doubtful and ghostly, his hard and tight hands on yours loosened. His tongue slipped into your mouth as he noticed you were willing to go one step further, intensifying the kisses.

When your hands came to rest on his thick beard, it was unclear who was moaning more loudly in the other's mouth. The way he kissed you was different from the other kisses you shared; it was more intimate, but there was still this passion. Perhaps it was because it had been too long.

This time, Ben's hands weren't as strong or harsh; instead, they were surprisingly patient, understanding, and caring.

Your hands stopped behind his thick neck and slid to his powerful and warm chest, and he slowly pushed you against the pillow and went on top of you, making sure everything was done correctly and that you were completely alright with it.

For a brief time, you withdrew yourself to catch your breath while your hands lingered around his clothed chest, perhaps in anticipation of his response. As you both gasped deeply, his swollen lips waited on yours. You both gave a loud groan as soon as he pressed his hardness between your legs. Your legs involuntarily spread a little to give him space to move, and your heart began to race.

His lips were waiting on yours as his hands were fisted in the blankets, but he wasn't kissing you as if he were savoring this private time. He remained motionless and patient as you lifted your hips in an attempt to create friction.

He pulled his hips back, and before you could complain, he smacked his clothed hardness between your legs, causing you to gasp and grab onto his back with your fingers, holding onto his t-shirt. He went above you, but he didn't keep kissing you; instead, you were only touching lips and quietly moaning at one another's mouths. 

With a grumble, he pulled back his hips and gave your covered pussy another firm stroke. “Do you like this?” he asked as he repeated the movement.

Rather than responding verbally, you nodded in agreement and waited for him to continue. 

Ben stopped moving, gave you the command, “Tell me,” and waited on top of you.

You elevated your hips to create the same friction once more and muttered, “Yes,” weakly.

Your body needed to relax even though you weren't sure if you were ready for sex. Ben and his supe hearings have recently made your fingers unfamiliar with your pussy.

With one hand slipping under your t-shirt and his eyes fixed intently on you, he repeated, “Do you need me to make you come?”

Ben's hands carefully lifted your t-shirt. When your tits were exposed to his sight, he ran his fingers over one of your nipples, which made you gasp. 

He observed you intently, picking up on every facial emotion you made as he caressed your nipple. 

With a rough voice, he said, “You like it when I play with your tits, don't you?” Taking pleasure in watching you try to get some friction from his hardness by desperately lifting your hips to meet his. He was aware of your precise needs. “If you tell me to suck your nipple, I will.”

You gave him a quiet sigh into his mouth and pleaded with him with your eyes. He was enjoying seeing you like this, at his mercy. He knew exactly what you wanted. Even though Ben didn't do anything at all, you felt so close, even if it was difficult to force yourself to come. Being that near to him and tense while he was merely fiddling with your tits was embarrassingly good. 

“Tell me, baby.” You gasped in delight as he said, “I'll do anything you want,” and put his thumb to your hardened nipple. 

Please,” you eventually pleaded, desperately staring into his eyes. 

Ben sighed, grinned a little, lowered his head to rest on your body, kissed your breast, and started to suck so hard your entire body shook with ecstasy. Your hips lifted in anticipation as your fingers closed on his hair, forcing his head against your tits even more.

The sounds of wetness flooding the room as Ben was moaning around your nipple was filthy. As he played with your nipple with his tongue and licked it, his other hand gave you a hard squeeze, and you felt your walls tighten.

“Oh, Ben,” you let out a loud cry. He groaned loudly in delight as you pulled his messy hair. Your face reddened, and your heart began to rush rapidly.

This time you groaned in protest when he withdrew. You gasped sharply, leaving you on edge with burning cheeks as you glanced at Ben. Your fingers trembled in his hair.

Ben smiled at you because he could see you were desperate for him to continue, and he could also smell your swollen, aroused pussy leaking under your underwear.

With a quick sigh, he exclaimed, “Let me go down on you,” causing your eyes to widen. “I fucking need you to cum in my mouth so bad right now.”

His suggestion made you feel so shy that you released your grip on his hair and put your hands on his chest. 

You said, “But we... didn't do such thing before,” unsure of if he was really willing or not.

As he adjusted your t-shirt as he added, “I know, I know, that's my fault,” and then his fingers stopped on your underwear. “That's something I need to fix immediately.”

He kissed you firmly on the lips after noticing your hesitant and bashful expression and waited for you to answer. “Let me make you come.” 

You nodded briefly to him after a while and anxiously awaited his next move. You were a little anxious since you didn't know if he would really want it or would back out in the middle because he hadn't gone down on you before. 

Between kisses, Ben leaned down on your body and murmured, “Look at me,” causing you to gasp in shock as he planted a wet kiss on your covered pussy. You couldn't decide if his touch was making you too sensitive or too responsive. It felt like there was a lot of leaking beneath your underwear. 

He placed your legs on his shoulder and pulled your panties aside, revealing your wet pussy to his eyes and making you flinch for a moment while you continued to stare at him with flushed cheeks.

Excitedly, you put your hands on the sheets and waited for him to continue.

Before you could react, his warm lips reached your pussy lips. You gasped and tried to move your hips, but he stilled your body as he proceeded to kiss your clit. “Fuck, I missed your beautiful little wet cunt so much,” he muttered.

Ben's balls were hurting and his thick cock was twitching beneath his boxers, but he did his best not to remove it and stroke himself while he used his lips to fuck your swollen pussy. Now, your needs took priority.

Ben began to suck your pussy with a full tongue as you squeezed your lips together and clenched your hands into fists. You tried to shift your legs away from his shoulders, but he stopped you right away and sucked harder.

You let out a loud gasp as your hands found his hair and pulled his head closer, pressing it even closer to your pussy, just as Ben suddenly pressed his tongue into your hole. For an instant, you sensed his lips curled around your pussy, and he proceeded to fuck you with his tongue. Your voice was shaky as you began to murmur his name, your back arched.

Your legs trembled on his shoulders as he waited for your cum to fill his lips, pressing his tongue even farther into your hole. You began to cum into his mouth with a loud moan, unable to hold back yourself any longer. You were under so much pressure in that instant that you were about to cry for two reasons: excitement and embarrassment at not being able to contain yourself for even two minutes. You were unsure of the previous time your climax had struck so strongly.

You tried to push his head away from your body and adjust yourself, but he held you firmly and let you ride your orgasm into his mouth to the very end. “I'm sorry,” you muttered in a panicked and embarrassed manner. 

He planted a hard kiss on your clit, cleaned you off with his mouth, and adjusted your underwear when your orgasm subsided and felt too sensitive. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, I should have done this sooner,” he remarked, kissing your forehead for a long time after licking his lips. Though Ben's cock was hurting under his sweatpants and he was extremely hard, he knew that his desires could wait and that this wasn't the exact moment. 

While Ben's hands waited on the both side of your belly softly, you made a move to get rid of him, but he gently stopped you, saying playfully, “Hey, wait wait, what about a pillow talk?”

“I need to clean myself,” you murmured weakly, still feeling shy for letting yourself go in his mouth without a warning and too soon.

“I've already cleaned you up good, baby. You don't have to be worried about that.” He waited on top of you, with a smile on his face. Both of your hearts were still racing.

“Sorry,” you muttered shyly. “I didn't- couldn't warn you.”

“Come on,” Ben exclaimed, grinning broadly and sincerely. “I already tried to make you cum in my mouth. You did incredibly well. That's something I can do every night.”

He moved both of your bodies in the bed when you stopped moving beneath him. Without a word, you turned your back on him before he could embrace you. 

Ben moved to get close to you and held you in his powerful arms despite the bed's small size. You weren't strong enough to be hurt again, but your heart melted when his hands paused on your stomach and he hissed again behind your head. 

Knowing that his compassion was always accompanied by cruelty, you answered, "That doesn't make a difference, Ben. I still don't want to love you." 

Rather than responding to you straight away, he took a big breath, gripped your body tightly, and said, "I know."

Next Chapter

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A/N: I hope we are good so far.. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

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[sy-on-boy]

"Anya, are you... feeling okay?"

Anya stared at Becky with with big, blank, buggy eyes. "I don't understand," she said in a monotone.

Becky squinted at Anya. Anya was usually weird, but Becky knew her well enough to discern Anya's different types of weirdness. "Are you trying to be like Damian's creepy older brother?"

Ewen and Emile heard and quickly turned around to defend their best friend's brother. "Oy, don't insult Demetrius!" "He's not creepy, he's a genius! His mind operates at levels we cannot understand!"

"You guys are talking about my brother?" Damian's voice came. "What's all this fuss?"

Becky sighed, then deadpanned, "I think Anya's trying to be like your brother. For some reason."

Damian jumped and instantly scowled. Anya continued to silently stare at Damian with her buggy eyes. Damian backed away, weirded out (and oddly jealous) by Anya imitating his own brother. "Ugh, what's wrong with you, Forger?" he spluttered out, cheeks turning pink.

Upon seeing Damian's distaste, Anya blinked, dropped the act, and looked normal again. "Super Sy-on boy is a genius so I'm going to be like him until I become a genius. I wanna get stella stars like Super Sy-on boy."

"But Bossman also has stella stars," Ewen said innocently.

"But Super Sy-on boy has more stella stars," Anya interjected just as innocently. Damian's face instantly darkened.

Becky noticed and nudged Anya. "You didn't have to rub it in his face!" she hissed to Anya.

"Rub what in Sy-on boy's face?" Anya might not understand the saying, but now she knew she shouldn't had compared Damian with Demetrius even if it was unintentional. Anya gulped and nervously glanced at Damian, who was looking solemn and suddenly older than he was.

"Of course my brother is always better at everything. Even an idiot like her can see it. I don't like how she's imitating Demetrius (hah, a commoner like her would never come close to us Desmonds) but I see her point. Maybe I should be more like Demetrius too..."

Anya blinked. Becky's earlier words of "rub it in his face" came back to her. Face, face... Sy-on boy's face? In her mind, she superimposed Demetrius' buggy eyes and slicked back hair on top of Damian's. Hmph, a bit off-putting, but this was actually fine because Damian still looked stupid and snot-faced as he always did.

But then Anya imagined Demetrius' complete lack of expression on Damian— no more taunts, no more temper tantrums, no more of his silly red faces, but also no more smiles, no more tears, no more of that unadulterated fear she saw during the bus hyjacking, no more of that determined face of his when he shielded her from the dodgeball, no more of Damian being his annoying, crybaby, sometimes heroic self. A Damian with barely any thoughts. A Damian who didn't understand people and didn't bother with anything at all. No more Sy-on boy being Sy-on boy.

... And Anya didn't think she liked that.

"You don't have to be like Super Sy-on boy," Anya blurted out. She felt bad for making Damian feel down earlier, because she was supposed to be friends with him, and friends didn't make each other feel bad.

Damian looked at her, bewildered and somewhat taken aback. "Huh??"

What Anya thought was "your mom is weird and your brother is weird and your dad is an evil super boss. You're a jerk sometimes but you're not weird like they are, and I feel bad for you", but obviously she couldn't say that, so she simply said, "Sy-on boy is Sy-on boy. You're not Super Sy-on boy and you don't have to be like him (because I need to read your mind for the mission)."

Damian blinked, his heart warmed by Anya's unexpected sincerity. Anya wanted him to be himself? And not like his brother? She... didn't expect that from him?

Becky, intuitive as always, chimed in. "Damian, you're a bit of a brat, but don't turn into a creep like your brother."

Damian scowled. "My brother's not a creep!!"

"I'm just making a honest statement! It's for your own good!"

Anya stepped aside to let Becky and Damian bicker. Her eyes flitted over to Damian— Damian without those buggy eyes, Damian with long eyelashes, Damian with anger and scowls, Damian with thoughts and feelings and fears and likes and affection.

Then she thought of Damian's mother and brother with the odd, mysterious, and almost chilling darkness in their heads. In some way, Demetrius' apathy was easier to stomach than Melinda's tornado of chaotic and contradictory thoughts, but both of them threw her off. Damian, despite being Damian, despite being the son of the evil boss, was still... relatively normal. He smiled. He loved his dog. He was protective of his friends. He wanted stella stars. He threw temper tantrums. He wanted his family to love him. (He was scared of being abandoned.) Despite everything, Damian was still like Anya.

... Yeah. Anya hoped Sy-on boy would stay Sy-on boy for as long as he could.