#no matter what i do he always ends up looking too feminine :'(

[gatorbites-imagines]

I have a prompt idea, Trans reader (ftm) in the 1940s being bullied, steve and bucky find reader and help him, start to friends to poly lovers (steve x bucky x reader), fluff with a little angst and soft smut, just an idea

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FTM reader

Headcanons

I don’t actually know a whole lot about the era for trans people, especially in Brooklyn during those years. So, I’m just writing on a feeling and adding what feels right. Have I ever mentioned that pre-serum Steve is one of my favorites?

Writing this actually reminded me of something I wrote forever ago, called party of one, two, three? You can read part 1 and 2 here, if you are interested. I wasn’t really in the mood to write detailed smut, so.

Being a trans guy in the 30s and 40s wasn’t easy, but was anything during that time? Depending on where you were from and when you came out, you might have had the chance to live as a man.

If let’s say you moved to Brooklyn when you were old enough to know that you were a man, and you had always presented as such, then you might have been able to get a job, and if you knew the right people, fake documents.

If you had always lived in Brooklyn, then it was a lot harder, as most just assumed you were a lady who dressed like a lad because you didn’t want to “do your duty” as a woman, or whatever they had on their minds.

Either way, Steve and Bucky were some of the few people who supported you no matter what, if they only knew you as a man, or if you guys had grown up together. If you fit in Steves clothes you could borrow his, and if Steve was too small, well, then bucky had a closet with clothes too.

Being picked on was hard to avoid, in either situation. The first would be because you were such a small, scrawny and feminine guy. The second because you were a lady that needed to be put in her place.

The second was always more dangerous. The first, theyd just rough you up a bit and taunt you a little, but it always ended up as more of a “haha we are just taking the piss”. The second? It felt like the men who cornered you had something to prove, to you or themselves you didn’t know. But they wanted to prove that they could “fix” or “correct” you.

Living in Brooklyn and being a weirdo like you meant you knew how to fight, somewhat at least. Enough to not go down without a fight. But no matter how much you practiced, keeping up with multiple fully grown men was difficult.

If you already knew Steve and Bucky or not, the two would step in when they saw this. Steve first, being the righteous guy he is, would run in swinging. Scrawny arms and wheezing breaths, eyes burning with the fury of a thousand suns, the blonde so incredibly enraged at the very idea of someone treating another person this way.

Steve never lasted long though, but luckily Bucky was never far behind. In the end, Steve always looked as beat up as you, and maybe it was because he bruised and bled so easily with how sick he was.

Steve struggling to his feet and holding out a hand to pull you up, eyes still sparkling and teeth bloody as he grinned, was enough to make your heart race.

Bucky at least didn’t look like he was the main victim of your group of attackers. He was a bit ruffled up, sure, but he still looked mostly put together.

It should shock no one that Bucky easily led you and Steve back to his and Steves apartment, where Bucky got to work patching you both up as they made you talk about the guys who did it, and why. Steve because he wanted to go back out there and smack them straight, and Bucky to be on the safer side.

Be it the first or twentieth time they save you from your so-called bullies, Steve and Bucky stayed just as intense and caring. Even when they didn’t have a lot, or Steve was sick, you always felt like you belonged and was as much of a man as them.

When you three started dating it got a little easier. Everyone already knew that Steve Rogers as built like a twig, but would swing until there was blood if he needed too. He was snarling, snapping and as feral as those starving alley dogs. He was as protective as one too, not just of you but Bucky too.

Bucky wasn’t much better, though he hid it more successfully. Everyone thought that Barnes was the charming, sweet talker, who liked to talk it out without fighting. But they were wrong, when it came to you and Steve, Buck could be worse than Steve.

Both your fellas were protective and possessive in their own ways, but you couldn’t say you didn’t feel the same. You wanted to drown the men who antagonized Steve for his height and sickness in the piers. And jealousy reared its hideous head when the pretty ladies fluttered their lashes at Bucky whenever he passed.

The three of you were all a mess, but you were each other’s mess. You and Bucky never saw Steve was just his disease and lack of stature. Steve and you never just saw Bucky as his handsome face and face charm. And they never saw you as a lady, you were as much of a man as them.

The only time it ever became a challenge, your biology being different, was when you guys got intimate. But it was never made a huge problem. There were days when Steve couldn’t get it up because of his health, or where he could even participate because of his lungs. And there were days when you didn’t want to be touched because your body made you sick. You guys just found ways to make it work.

Sometimes you and Steve would just sit back on a chair each, one you’d dragged in from the kitchen, to watch Bucky pleasure himself and show off in bed. It was like your own litter theater, and Bucky really loved to be watched and praised by you two.

Sometimes it was Steve lying in bed carefully touching himself, at times it was just him caressing his own torso and telling you two all his wildest fantasies, his face and chest bright red from his flush.

And there were even times when it was you, when dysphoria wasn’t swallowing you whole and howling that your body was wrong. You never looked at yourself when you would be with them, but having two men with their own naked bodies made it harder to focus on your own.

Some days you would imagine that their body was yours, and the dysphoria wouldn’t be so bad. It also helped that Steve didn’t grow as much body hair as Buck, meaning Steve was almost as naturally hairy as you. Part of you just basked in the fact that one of your partners looked like you in that way.

The days you were fine with touch, Steve and Bucky never let it go to waste. You couldn’t fuck them like you three all wanted, they didn’t really have toys like that at the time, or at least accessible to you three. This just meant you guys had to get creative.

God gave humans hands and fingers for a reason, and you all had mouths. You always wore so many layers anyways, so the many hickeys your lovers left on you were easily hidden. The chest was always off the table though, and neither of the men complained.

Bucky was the best at praise, so naturally gifted that Steve would joke that he should become some pulp writer, that he should write those cheap sappy romance novels the ladies liked.

This didn’t mean that Steve wouldn’t praise you and Buck, he did, just in his own ways. The blonde always struggled with forming the right words and getting them out, but his sketchbook filled with pages and paged of you and Buck was all the praise you needed.

They would be good partners. Neither have a label for what you guys are, or what their sexualities are, they just know you three love each other, and that’s all that matters.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BLAST FROM THE PAST

A/N: And something new, that I've been working on for some time. The ending sucks, but I tried. Maybe it won't make sense, I don't know. It was supposed to be spicy, but I didn't know what to put there.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 5400+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BLAST FROM THE PAST

Logan needed some time off. Was it from the students? The missions? He didn’t know. But he longed for some peace. A weekend away would be perfect. A week would mean the world to him. And yet, he’d never asked for that. Deep down, he liked teaching the students. He enjoyed the missions even when he was grumpy about it. 

He leaned against a pillar at the entrance, inhaling the cold wet air. The had been pouring for hours. It was a matter of minutes before the first thunder would start. With midnight slowly approaching, the scenario in front of him was very peaceful. It was exactly what he needed, even if it was only for a few moments. 

Logan took a cigar out of his pocket, lighting it up. No one would bitch about it now. When he took the first drag, his mind wandered to Jean. He would think about her here and there, always wondering… what if? What if she chose him? What if she never dates Scott? But it wasn’t like that. It sucked she chose Scott. It’s been a long time now. It was time to get over it for good.

Out of nowhere, he scoffed. There was only one person who would stupidly comment on it. Logan perfectly pictured his best friend beating his ass for acting like a fool. Like a love-sick puppy, she’d say. And would laugh, even now. 

Logan frowned. Now, his mind was preoccupied with the images of his best friend - Y/N. They met over two years ago. Or was it longer than that? It was at a time when he was cage-fighting for money. He wasn’t a teacher or an X-man. He barely knew who he was. He was blessed with that woman, to be honest. She sneaked into his life and nestled somewhere in his heart. 

He chuckled when he remembered how she would mock him. They had a similar sense of humour. She was a powerful mutant, also on the run from everything and everyone - even herself. Life with her by his side was easier. Their paths separated a few times, only to be brought together by some miracle. 

But then Rogue came and his life changed. The last time he met her was, again, a total coincidence. Because that’s what the universe had decided to do. Logan was on a mission with Storm, looking for more mutant children to be saved and protected. Turned out, Y/N was on her own mission, to help them. The meeting was short, amusing and before he blinked, she was gone. 

He kept wondering what his life would be if they stayed together. What if she was here with him? What if he stayed by her side and never set foot here? 

He took another drag, the taste lingering in his mouth a bit more than before. Logan’s eyes scanned the surroundings. The driveway to the school was empty. He didn’t sense any danger. And yet, he frowned. Something seemed off.

There was a scent lingering in the air. It was distant, mutant-like. Taking another sniff, Logan tilted his head. Odd. The scent was familiar. Too familiar. With every breath he took, he was sure he knew that person. That’s when his eyes captured a figure limping through the rain forward. He straightened his back, eyes wide. Could it be…?

“Am I delirious?” he heard the well-known feminine voice. “Is that the grumpiest man who ever lived?” 

Logan chuckled. Of course, she would greet him with words like that. “Y/N?” What the hell was she doing there? “Holy shit, is that you? How the fuck?” he asked in disbelief. 

“That’s how you greet your good friend?” she asked, chuckling. Y/N came closer, trying to keep her weight off her right foot. “I was expecting confetti and champagne.” 

The cigarette was immediately abandoned. Logan walked into the rain. It took him five large steps to approach her. His big arms wrapped around her body in a tight hug. “This has to be enough.”

“A warm hug from you? Worth it,” she laughed as she pressed her drenched clothes against his dry one. She rested her head against his hard chest, smiling. “But seriously, what the fuck are you doing here? Of all places?” 

Logan looked at her, eyes travelling from head to toe. She was a mess. “I think I should be asking that question, don’t ya think? Come on, let’s get your ass inside before you catch fucking pneumonia or something.” Before she could reply, Logan dragged her inside the school, away from the cold rain. 

“Holy shit,” he heard her gasp when Y/N stepped inside. She kept twisting and turning on her heel, scanning the interior. Her mouth was open while trying to take it all in. “Don’t tell me you fucking live here, Howlett,” and she punched him in the bicep. “Have you won the lottery?”

He held a chuckle and shook his head. “Still got that mouth on you,” he stated. 

“And yet, you still love me,” she had gifted him with a bright smile. That quickly turned into a scowl and a gasp. 

Logan noticed before she was limping. Now, under the light, he saw her swollen ankle. “What happened there, kid?” he pointed at her foot. 

She looked down, eyeing her injury. “Shit,” she mumbled. “On my way here, I slipped on a fucking mud and twisted it. Otherwise, I am fine.”

He could smell the lie on her, but for now, he decided to ignore it. She would sing eventually. Logan knew her damn well. Fuck, he couldn’t believe she was standing before him, here at school. Either this was the universe bringing them together or there were more lies behind those gorgeous eyes. 

Her feet moved. She kept turning around, looking at the interior. “Fancy. So, this is where you live now? What is this a school?” She stopped and turned back to him. “Don’t tell me you are a teacher.” 

Logan watched as she wrapped her arms around her body. The wet clothes were hugging her figure in the right places. “I know it’s hard to believe but that’s what I am now.” 

She chuckled. “From a fighting cage to becoming a teacher. That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming. What do you teach?” 

“Ethics,” he said seriously. When he noticed how she raised a brow, he continued. “Believe it or not, I’m very good at it. I’ve got a way with words. You’d be surprised.” 

“Did you lose your mind again while we were separated?” she asked. “There’s no fucking way you, of all people, are teaching ethics. That’s… unethical.”

That’s when he started to laugh. He got her good. “Nah, I’m kidding, kid. I teach combat training or PE and history.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, exhaling loudly. “Fuck, you got me there.” Her whole body shivered. “S-so, how the hell did you end up being a teacher? Last time, we didn’t have that much time to chit-chat. You were saving the same kids as I was.” 

Logan’s eyes couldn’t watch how he kept shaking like an abandoned puppy. With long strides, he went to another room and reappeared with a fluffy blanket. He threw at her. “Here.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled. She wrapped around her, sighing contentedly.

“Y/N?” 

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck are you here? And don’t give me some shitty story. Tell me the truth,” he said strictly. He crossed his big arms over his chest, flexing them. 

Y/N brushed the wet strands of hair from her face, her lips shivering. “I was sent here,” she said simply. Logan opened his mouth to demand more. “This might sound crazy, although, in our world, nothing is fucking crazy. Someone contacted me - no, that’s not the correct word. Someone connected with my mind. A telepath, a powerful one. He, I remember it was a male voice, helped me come here.” 

Logan shook his head in disbelief. “Charles,” he mumbled. “He’s the founder and headmaster of this school. He’s the one who contacted you.” 

“Well, shit,” she was surprised. “I was not expecting that. Does he know we know each other?” Y/N sneezed loudly. And then again. “The better question is, why me?”

Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you some dry clothes.”

“Is it okay that I’m here? It’s the middle of the night,” she had to ask while walking up the stairs, following her friend. 

He snorted. “Don’t play timid now, Y/L/N. This shit doesn’t work on me.” 

One simple glare and he had to laugh. “Damn, you know me too well. But seriously, everyone is asleep and I feel like an intruder.” 

Logan took her to his room and closed the doors silently behind them. “You are a fucking annoying intruder, but I don’t mind, darlin’,” he grinned at her. “Welcome to my room, don’t fucking sit anywhere with those damn wet clothes.” Logan moved to his closet and took out a shirt with long sleeves and some boxers he never wore. Again, he threw the clothes at her like he did with the blanket, making her curse. 

“I’ll be swimming in those clothes.”

“Shut up and be grateful.” Logan pointed at the second door in the room. “That’s my bathroom - change, shower, do whatever you need.” 

“Careful with your words, mon ami,” she winked at him. “Thank you, Lo’. I appreciate this.” 

“Save it, kid.” 

Y/N showed him her tongue on the way to the bathroom, grimacing before closing the door behind her. 

Alone in Logan’s bathroom, she smiled. Damn, she missed him. He was the only man who treated her like an equal. They shared the same humour, the same views. He was a strong mutant and so was she. 

Sighing, Y/N undressed from the wet clothes, hanging them on a heating rack to dry. Her ankle still hurt. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Bruises covered her body. Some of them still hurt like a bitch. 

One quick shower later, she felt better, warmer. Although, she smelled like him. It made her smile. She had to use his shampoo because there wasn’t anything else. In the end, it was better than nothing. As predicted, his clothes were too big for her. One of her shoulders was exposed, the boxers were low on her hips. 

Logan was still in his bedroom when she walked out. First, their eyes locked. Then, his eyes travelled south, scanning her figure and his clothes hanging on her. Has she ever worn his clothes before? He dryly gulped. “Yeah, you are swimming in my clothes,” he chuckled. “Now, get in the bed.”

“Woah, first buy me dinner you ass,” she laughed. “I’m not that easy.”

One glare and she was laughing even more. “Of course, you are the one with a rotten brain,” he commented. “One night we’ll share. We will figure out the rest tomorrow after you meet the rest of the X-men.” 

“I mean, we shared a bed once. It was during a winter, a shitty snowstorm got in our way,” Y/N grinned like a winner. “I was surprised when you cuddled me.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “You were cold and asked me to help you,” he reminded her. 

“But you decided to do it,” Y/N grinned at him. “If you’d like, you can cuddle me tonight, too. I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Damn you, woman,” he growled. “Just get in the damn bed and shut your noisy, annoying mouth.” 

“Again, you love me,” she winked at him and climbed into the bed, taking the right side. Luckily, the bed was big enough to accommodate them together. “So comfortable,” she sighed contentedly. “You are treated well here.” 

“Benefit of being a teacher here,” he chuckled. “Sleep, Y/N. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” 

Her eyes were heavy. She didn’t have the energy to give him some witty comment. She simply turned her back to him, cuddling to her pillow, drifting into the realm of dreams. 

At least for a few hours before she was up again, surrounded by darkness and gentle snoring. She turned her head to see the silhouette of her friend deep asleep. Sighing, she slowly left the bed, legs bringing her to a big window. The rain never stopped. It kept pouring on the grass, the wind swaying the trees. Her whole body ached. She had a couple of rough months behind her. Now, she was safe. 

Y/N didn’t slip on the mud. She was on the run for several days in searing pain. Her wrists remembered the cuffs around them, not letting her move. What mattered now was the fact that the dark times were gone and she was in a place where she had someone she knew well.

Logan shifted in the bed, turning on the other side, still asleep. At least he was able to do that now. Maybe his mind was in a better place, healed. He deserved it. 

Y/N rested her elbows on a wooden window sill and put her head on her hands. Watching the rain was better than sleeping at this point. It soothed her, washed away the pain, the distress. 

In the morning, when she came out of the bathroom, Logan was sitting on his bed, frowning. “Already grumpy?” Y/N asked with a teasing smile. 

“You didn’t sleep,” he glared at her. 

“I did,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “Not the whole night, but at least a few hours.” There was no point in lying.

He shook his head. “Staring at the rain is better than resting in the bed?” he asked. “I knew damn well you were standing at the window for hours.” 

“You are a damn spy,” she said dramatically. “Fine, I was up. So what?” 

“You should have rested, kid.”

“If you knew I was up, why didn’t you say anything?” she challenged. 

A sigh escaped his lips. “You are a pain in the ass, ya know that?” He huffed. “I figured you needed a moment to collect your thoughts, as you like to say.”

Without a word, he stood up and locked himself in the bathroom. Y/N rolled her eyes. Grumpy Logan in the morning was a blessing. She fixed the clothes on her body, sighing at how loose everything was. Her own clothes didn’t smell good. They needed a good wash. 

Her ears registered noise coming out of the hallway. The voices shaded into each other. The students were up and ready to start their day. At first, she thought there’d be only a few kids. By the sounds of it, there had to be way more. How many kids did they save? 

Once Logan was out, he was already in his jeans, just putting on his white tank top. It was only a second but Y/N got a perfect glimpse of his hard abs and a path of hair. Her eyes moved up to his face. 

“I’m taking you to Charles,” he said. “Since he was the one who brought you here.” 

Y/N showed him a thumbs-up. A second later, she stopped. “Wait, I can’t meet him like this,” she pointed at how she was dressed. Logan's clothes were too big on her body. Also, it would look… weird. What would the people around here think? 

“Give me a minute,” he said and left the room, leaving Y/N standing there alone. 

Logan came to a different room, knocking on it. It took ten seconds for the person to open the door. His eyes met with Rogue’s. “It’s too early to give me any pep-talk you have in mind,” she said, annoyed.

“I need a favour,” he said. 

That piqued Rogue’s interest. “Alright, what is it?” 

“I need to borrow some female clothes,” he said, not looking at her. He wanted to avoid that teasing look on her face. “Before you start asking shit… I have a friend here and she needs some clothes to wear.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, grinning. “A friend you say? Is it really just a friend, Logan? What happened to her clothes? Are they torn?” 

He glared at her. “Will you help me out or nah?” 

Rogue bit her lower lip, trying her best not to laugh at him. “What is her sizing?” she asked. 

Logan described her body type. He didn’t give her too many details. Just enough so Rogue had a picture of her. “I think I have something here. Can I meet her?” she asked. 

“You are nosy, ya know that?” he tilted his head, patience wearing off slowly. “You’ll meet her later, okay? I have to take her to Charles. He was the one who brought her here.”

“Huh?” she was confused. “Hold on,” and hid in her room where she tried to find some clothes that would fit Logan’s mysterious female friend. Once she handed him the clothes, she put a teasing smile on her face. “I wanna meet her.” 

“Later, kid,” he waved a hand. He went back to his room. 

When he entered, Y/N was sitting on the bed, looking at her nails. He threw the clothes at her. They smacked her face. “Here, put this on.” 

She raised a brow. “Whose clothes are these? Please don’t tell me your girlfriend’s, that would be fucking weird.” 

“They belong to a student I saved some time ago,” he explained. “She’s a good kid. She also has a big mouth. You two would be great friends,” he chuckled. 

Y/N made a face. “Kinda hard to believe, but okay.” Taking her clothes, she went back to the bathroom to change. To her surprise, the clothes fit her nicely. They were simple sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Once she got out, Logan’s bed was perfectly made. 

He noticed some bruises on her arms but decided not to comment on it yet.

Logan took Y/N through the vast hallways of the school to the lower levels where Charles had an office. Some students eyed Y/N from head to toe, not knowing what to think of her. There were whispers here and there, pointing their fingers in her direction. 

“I feel like I am a zoo animal,” she snarled a little. “I’m surprised they are not taking pictures of me, yet.” 

“Give it time,” he teased. 

“Fucking great.” 

Logan knocked on the office door three times before entering. For the first time, Y/N was able to see the man who connected with her mind. He was old, bald, in a wheelchair and dressed fancy. 

“Y/N,” he said her name with a smile. “I’m glad you are here. Please, sit.” Then, he turned his eyes to Logan. “Thank you for bringing her. I’ll speak with her alone.” 

The Wolverine didn’t comment on it. He gave him a nod, patter Y/N’s shoulder and left the Professor and his friend alone in the office to talk. 

Typical Professor. He’d keep his secrets to himself until things when to shit. Logan hoped he’d give him an explanation. And if not him, he would hear it from Y/N. 

Damn that woman. They had known each other for many years before he became a teacher at this school. They were close, sometimes wondering how close they would be if… He shook his head. It was useless to think that way. Yes, she was fucking sexy and beautiful. He would be lying if he said the opposite. It made him question things back in the day. Even now, when he saw her face this morning, there was a question lingering in his mind. What if..?

“Where is she?” Rogue startled him. “I wanna see her.” 

“Jeez, kid. You are acting as if you want to catch Santa during Christmas,” he said. 

Logan and Rogue walked into the kitchen. He made himself a coffee while Rogue got cereal and milk. She had that teasing smile on her lips, waiting for something juicy from Logan.

“I’m curious. Is she pretty?” 

He almost choked on the coffee. “Shit,” he mumbled and coughed. 

“Well, she must be if you are acting this way,” Rogue smiled. 

“What do you mean, kid? I act normally. The damn coffee went down the wrong pipe,” he glared at her and put the mug on the counter. 

“Whatever you say, Logan,” she giggled. “How come you never told me about this friend of yours? Or shall I call her a crush?” 

“Have you ever told me about your friends?” he asked back. “And what am I, five?”

She put a full spoon of cereal in her mouth and shrugged. “This is different,” she said after swallowing the food. “I can confidently say I know you well, Logan. But since this morning, there is this different energy coming out of you.”

“How is this different?” 

“It’s you we are talking about,” she said. “The grumpy guy who doesn’t let anyone in. And suddenly, there is a woman that is supposedly his friend. Ask anyone, they’d say it’s… unusual.” 

His ears registered the sound of wheels and Y/N’s gentle voice approaching. He took a deep breath, preparing for their entrance. It seemed Charles had decided to give her a tour. When they entered the kitchen, Logan noticed how Rogue’s eyes widened when her eyes captured Y/N at the door in her clothes. 

And they both smiled at each other. Fuck. Rogue and Y/N would be a deadly combo for him. He would never hear the end of their nagging and teasing.

“You’ve met Logan,” Charles chuckled. “This is Rogue. Logan saved her some time ago.” 

“Hi!” Rogue said cheerfully, too cheerfully for Logan’s liking. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You will meet more people as the day goes by,” Charles said to Y/N. “Some of them are on a mission in Salt Lake City. They should be back in a day or two.” 

Logan turned his gaze to Y/N. “So, you are staying?” It sounded rougher than he intended to. He would be glad to have her here, with him. “Wow, wasn’t expecting that,” he added. 

She shrugged. “I think it’s time to lay low. My life has been hectic for years. Now, I got the opportunity to have some sort of stability - in a matter of speaking.” 

“If you excuse me,” Charles said politely, “I have a class to teach. We will speak together more this afternoon. We’ll arrange a room for you and some clothes since you don’t own anything.” 

“Thank you.” 

 . . .

Y/N sat alone in a room they assigned her. Some would say it was small. To her, it was luxurious and vast. She never had a room like this. As a kid, she would share the sleeping space with other kids. And then, she would travel from place to place, sleeping wherever it was possible - benches, couches or in a van when she was with Logan. 

She thought about the time she would spend time with him. How they would share his van. That man had a kind heart. He wouldn’t let her freeze to death when he found her. And since that day, their friendship blossomed. 

That man. Shit. Was there a time when she imagined his hard muscles under her hands? Yes, many times. When they were together, she could never cross that line. It was rare to have a good friend in her life who was willing to take her in like a stray. She wouldn’t want to screw that up. 

A knock brought her back to reality. Rogue came inside her room with a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “Hi,” she greeted Y/N. 

“Hi, uh, Rogue, right?” 

“Yes,” she nodded. “Is it okay to come?”

“Sure,” Y/N pointed at the spot next to her on the bed. “So, you are the girl who gave me some clothes to wear,” she tugged at her sweatpants. “Thanks. That was very kind.” 

Rogue kept the smile. “I know what’s like not to have any clothes. They gave me everything when I got here. I have a bed to sleep on, food to eat and friends.” 

Y/N nodded. “That’s good.” 

“So, what’s up with you and Logan?” she asked boldly, making Y/N snap her head up and look at the girl.

“We are friends,” Y/N said, unsure what Rogue meant by it. “We’ve known each other for years. We separated a while back and now, the universe has brought us together,” she explained. 

“Universe,” Rogue grinned. 

The door opened without knocking. Logan walked in as if it was his room. “Sure, come on in, this room is a public space,” Y/N commented with a smirk plastered on her lips. “What do you want?” 

Logan glared at Rogue. “What are you doing here, kid?” 

“Getting to know your friend,” she smiled at him. It was followed by a wink. 

“Don’t you have classes?” he questioned. 

Rogue huffed, annoyed by him. “We’ll talk later,” she waved a hand as she was leaving Y/N’s new room. She gave Logan one last teasing look before she left. 

“You are such a dad,” Y/N laughed at Logan. “Strict hand, not taking any shit.” 

Logan poked her forehead, making her laugh. “Have you hurt your head, kid? You are talking shit.” 

“What? You don’t like being called a dad? How about ‘daddy’?” she put a wicked smile on her face, waiting for his reaction. When his eyes widened and his nostrils flared, she started to laugh at him. 

Logan shook his head. “I think it’s time for you to start singing, Y/N.” His voice got deeper. The teasing was gone. He demanded answers. “I talked to Charles. He didn’t want to tell me what happened to you, or the exact reason why he found you. In his words, you should be the one to tell me.” 

Y/N eyes lowered. She knew it would eventually come. Her eyes trailed over the few bruises that were on her arms. “I was locked in a mutant testing lab,” she whispered. 

“What?!” Logan’s voice raised. “How long?” 

She rolled her eyes from one side to the other, counting the days. “Over a month,” she said. “I got information that they had some kids locked there and I wanted to get them out. My goal was to take them to an underground network that helped mutants. Unfortunately, they captured me and locked me with them.”

“Y/N,” he sighed. 

“Don’t,” she glared at him. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened. Don’t be over-protective when you were here, living your life.” 

She was right. He wasn’t with her. He didn’t have the right to act this way. “What happened there?” Logan’s voice sounded more neutral. The anger behind it subsided. 

Y/N started to play with her fingers, picking up dirt under her nails that wasn’t there. “They experimented on us, abused us,” she shrugged. “I wanted to get us away, but I only made it worse.” 

“What happened?” he demanded this time. 

“I blew up the whole place!” she raised her voice. Her eyes met his. “Many people died. I wanted to get them out and I… I killed them, Logan.” 

Y/N’s mutation was a dangerous one. She was able to blow things up. Because she lacked control over the mutation, no wonder things went quickly south. “I didn’t want to,” her voice broke. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

“Holy shit,” Logan shook his head. “How many dead?” 

“I don’t know. I panicked and ran away,” she admitted. “Everything was on fire.” 

There was silence between them. Logan wasn’t commenting on it. Y/N didn’t want to talk more about it. It was too fresh. The wounds didn’t heal. She killed many people, including mutants. 

“So that ankle,” he pointed at her leg. She wasn’t limping that day, but it was still a little swollen. “You didn’t slip on a mud.”

She shook her head. “No. All injuries were from…” her voice faded into nothing. Y/N’s head lowered, not daring to look at Logan. She tried to hold back the tears and not to cry. She felt ashamed of lying, not telling the truth to the one man she kind of trusted. “Can’t believe the Professor wants me here after everything.” 

“This is the problem,” Logan started to talk. “You never told me when something went to shit. Whether it was you being attacked as it happened at the Canadian borders when we travelling together. Or when your powers got out of control. Now, it’s still the same. Here I thought you could trust me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she jumped in. “I didn’t want to seem like a damsel in distress or a weak mutant that doesn’t have things under control. Plus, it’s not something I wanted to brag about when there were casualties.”

“And again, you didn’t have your mutation under control,” he spat. Logan was upset and he didn’t understand why. “Why do I have a feeling that you cannot trust me? After all those years? You think I’d judge you? Come on, princess.” 

“I trust you.” 

“Do you?” 

She opened her mouth to argue. Logan stopped her by raising a hand. “Don’t even try.”

The anger mixed with dread. Logan cared for her more than he ever realised. However, he was upset that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him what happened. She had to lie just to present herself as strong and brave. 

He went out to smoke and calm down. Why couldn’t she admit that she fucked up and was injured? Stubborn woman. 

. . .

Logan and Y/N didn’t talk for the rest of the day. She stayed in her room, hidden from the world while he dealt with students. Also, he wanted to know more information from Charles. He gave him a better glimpse into what happened. It seemed some mutants got away before Y/N blew up the whole building. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me anything about it,” he said. 

Charles sighed. “I understand you two share some past. Your paths separated for some time and things changed. You can’t blame her for not trusting you enough.”

Logan frowned at him. “You know awfully a lot, Charles.”

“Sometimes your mind is too loud, opened for telepaths like an invitation to an open house,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Then don’t snoop around,” said Logan. 

Charles took a deep breath, ready to speak, when his face went stoic. He knew something was off. “She wants to leave,” he announced. “Rogue is talking to her at the entrance door.” 

“Fuck,” Logan gritted his teeth. His legs took him out of the office and straight to the front door where Rogue was talking to Y/N. The woman had new clothes on her and a backpack. She was serious about leaving. 

“Stay,” Rogue said. “You need to talk it out.”

Y/N shook her head. “I have to leave. Too many ghosts in the closet,” she shrugged. 

“You’re not goin anywhere,” Logan lurched forward. “You just came here and I ain’t letting you go that easily.” 

“Logan,” she sighed. 

“No,” he shook his head. He grabbed her by the forearm and dragged her back inside the mansion. “I get that you re upset about what happened, but we can talk about it and deal with it together.” 

“Logan, it’s not that easy, I killed all those people…”

He huffed. “Y/N, stop it, okay,” he shook his head. “We can help you here. We can make you understand your mutation better. You will train with us, how to use it, how to control it. What do you say?” It seemed as if he was pleading now. 

She opened her mouth, ready to ramble some more. Logan reached for her, grabbing her by the neck and pressing her body close to his. His lips found hers in a kiss that took her breath away. 

Rogue’s mouth almost dropped to the floor, but she was glad that Logan made the step. She knew that man liked Y/N. Because she didn’t want to ruin the moment, she slowly stepped away from them, giving them space. 

When Y/N slowly pushed away from Logan, she was speechless. Like a fish on a dry land, her mouth was opening and closing without making a sound. 

“Stay,” Logan said softly. “Come on, princess. Let me help you, give you a safe place.” 

She bit her lower lip. “Will it come with more kisses from you?”

He snorted. “As much as you want, darling.” 

[hurtblossom]

Hello ?

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary : It’s World Mental Health Day, and you get a call from a special someone.

Warning : None, just Fluff (for once), it’s short, use of she/her pronouns

Masterlist

« So today, in honor of World Mental Health Day, we’re going to as you to call someone and ask them, about their day, ask them how they have been. » The woman on the other side of the camera assied Lando.

« Ugh, i hate calling people. » Lando whined, grabbing his phone, and going through his contact list.

« Come on, it’s for a good cause. » The woman smiled. « You just have to say : Hey, I was just thinking about you, just wanted to check in, and just start a conversation with the person? Is that okay with you? »

« Yeah sure. » Lando replies softly, looking at the name he chose.

« Do you know who you’re going to call already? » The woman asked.

« Yup. » Lando pressed the call button; and put the speaker on. « I just hope she’s going to replay, she doesn’t like to speak on the phone either »

After a White, a feminine voice could be heard on the other side of the phone. « Hi? »

« Hello love » Lando said softly, smiling at the phone. « I was just thinking about you, and i wanted to check on you, y’know, hear you voice. »

« That’s very nice Lan. » Y/N smiled, holding the phone against her ear. « I’ve been thinking about you too. »

« What have you been up to love ? How are you? » Lando asked again.

« I’m okay, i’ve been working, y’know how it is. » She replied softly.

« Just okay? » He frowned.

« Better if you were here. » She smiles and giggled.

« I can’t let you be just okay, love. I’ll have to come to see you. » He said, grinning down at the phone, forgeting about the people around him.

« I’m happy you called, i needed that. Thank you. » She said softly. « I’ve missed you. »

« I’ve missed you too, love. I’m happy i called too. » He replied in the same tone. He looked around remembering all the team watching him. « I have to go film, love, i’ll call you back asap. »

« It’s okay, good luck today, Lan. I love you. »

« I love you too. Let me know if you need anything, okay? » He asked.

« Mhm, i will. Take care, don’t overwork yourself » She almost whispered.

« I won’t. You know I won’t. » Lando laughed a little. « Okay then. Take care, okay? I love you. »

« I love you too » Y/N blushed, smiling.

« I’ll see you soon love, I promise. » He said in a whisper.

« I’ll be waiting for you », after a few seconds, Y/N hung up, letting Lando contemplate a black screen.

As the call ended, Lando found himself staring at the black screen, a lingering smile on his face. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—cameras, lights, the crew around him—it was just him and the warmth of that conversation.

The woman on the other side of the camera smiled knowingly. “That sounded like more than just a casual check-in. You want to share a little more about her?”

Lando leaned back in his chair, still holding his phone loosely. “She’s... someone really special,” he said, his voice softer than usual. "You know when someone knows you inside out? Like, they get you in a way no one else does?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like it’s more than just a friend, Lando. Why did you pick her to call?"

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because she makes me feel grounded. No matter how crazy things get, she’s always there, reminding me who I really am.”

The woman tilted her head, giving him a playful grin. “And you’re sure that’s the only reason?”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe there’s a little more to it than that.”

The woman leaned in closer, her tone gentle. “What are you waiting for, then? You said you’ll see her soon. Is that something you want to keep as a promise?”

Lando’s smile deepened, his eyes softening as he looked at the camera. “Yeah, it’s a promise. I’ve been away for too long, and I miss her more than I can explain.”

He glanced down at his phone, his heart warming as he thought about Y/N’s laugh, the way she always made him feel at home, no matter how far away he was. "I’ll see her soon," he repeated, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "And when I do, I’ll make sure she knows how much she means to me."

The woman watched him with a knowing smile, sensing that there was more to the story than Lando was willing to share on camera. "I think she already knows, Lando."

He smiled, nodding slowly. "Yeah, but I want to remind her."

The woman grinned. “Well, I think she’s waiting for you, so don’t keep her too long.”

Lando chuckled again, feeling lighter after the call. “I won’t. Promise.”

With that, the woman wrapped up the segment, but Lando’s thoughts remained on Y/N. As the cameras were turned off and the lights dimmed, his heart was already counting down the moments until they’d be together again. And this time, he wouldn’t let the distance keep them apart for so long.

NDA : I'm a bit late, but take care of your loved one guys, make sure to check on them, and if you guys need someone, a friend to talk to, you can come to me.

[tj-is-down]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Back again with another random fic for y'all. This is not proofread, so don't hate me!

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been on and off "together" for years now, keeping it secret. Until, suddenly, one of them decides they might want more.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: None except some swearing, and reader is described femininely in this one.

Here’s the thing about Humble Creek: everybody knows everybody. A small town made up of just under five thousand, there was nothing that anybody could do in secret, because if one person knew, then it was just as if they’d taken a bullhorn and announced it to the entire town.

Which made Y/N’s life all the harder. See, she did have a secret, and although it hadn’t gotten out yet, its secrecy was held in the hands of a monster. A tyrant, a tool, a pain-in-the-ass douchebag with a cowboy hat and a Texas accent.

Tyler Owens.

Y/N had known he was trouble since they were kids. Growing up on rival ranches, they were destined to be enemies, and even more so, to blur the lines. Y/N had never trusted him. Not because their families were constantly fighting, as she believed everybody deserved their own chance to prove themself, but because he had fucked his up, royally. 

In elementary school, middle school, high school, Tyler was always the talk of the town. Always with a girl on his arm, Tyler was confident, and everybody else was just putty in his hands. Y/N told herself she didn’t understand what people saw in him. 

She lied.

It started in eighth grade, when Tyler showed up in a too-big tux and a bouquet of flowers he’d handpicked from his family’s garden.

“You wanna go to the dance?” He asked, grinning cockily. Even then he knew how to charm, before he even knew what charm was.

Y/N’s dad had said no, absolutely no way, but Y/N was in her rebellious phase and so this only pushed her to say yes. She went out right then, in her mud-stained t-shirt and jeans, and they’d walked to the school together at seven p.m. and walked home together at nine. He’d kissed her cheek goodnight and she’d wiped it off, embarrassed.

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“And you’re pretty, L/N.”

On the next Monday he came to school with Cherry Lee.

Y/N tried to be mad. She tried to hate Tyler, to swear that she’d never talk to him or think about him or even look at him ever again. But two months later, when Tyler and Cherry broke up, he’d knocked on her door when he knew her parents weren’t home and, against her better judgment, she’d let him inside.

They’d been on-and-off “together” ever since.

Now, Tyler wasn’t single for long intervals, usually just a couple of weeks here and there, and he would never cheat, nor would Y/N let herself become a homewrecker (no matter how fragile the relationship), but when Tyler showed up on her doorstep, bouquet in hands and that look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no. 

She was an adult now, but still, she couldn’t resist those eyes. Tyler had been single since before leaving for college, and when he came back it was like he’d never left. Sure, now he had a truck, a big name, a crew, and a YouTube channel, but he still had those eyes, and his family still had a garden with a never-ending supply of flowers.

He showed up on her door one morning, after her parents had left for church.

“Can I help you?” She asked, opening the door. As always, a t-shirt and jeans, dirty from the morning’s work on the farm.

“You’re not at church?”

“You knew I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, maybe the two and I can practice praying on our own? I think the first step is kneeling down; you wanna start?”

Y/N went to close the door, but Tyler’s hand reached out to prop it open.

“Come on, Darlin’,” he said, laying the accent on thick. “You want to go for a drive? I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Hold the coffee,” she said, walking past him. “I’d rather not have anyone see us together.”

He grabbed her waist and stood behind her, kissing her neck. “We’ve been doing this for years, babe. No one’s gonna find out, I promise.”

She leaned her head towards him, breathing in the scent of firewood mixed with his cologne. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You gettin’ sappy on me?” He asked. Though his voice was soft, she could feel his smirk.

“Nope.” She pulled out of his grasp and got into the passenger seat of his truck. “We going, or are you just gonna stand there looking all doe-eyed?”

“For you, I’d stand here all day, sweetheart.”

“Just get in the car, Romeo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*** 

They drove for a while, to the outskirts of town, when Tyler stopped the truck and leaned over. He kissed her lips, hard and slow, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. She reciprocated, holding his bicep, moving her mouth in tandem with his and letting herself fall into him.

“Why are you being so love-y today?” She asked after they separated.

“I can’t show my girl some love?”

“Is that what I am? ‘Your girl’?”

He shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“You’re annoying, Owens.” She pushed his shoulder.

He mock-pushed her back as he said, “You’re pretty, L/N.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seriously, though, there is something I wanted to talk to you about—”

Y/N scoffed. “Are you about to ask me out?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Okay, good.”

“Would that be so bad of me?”

“Kinda.” Y/N breathed a laugh, but when she saw Tyler’s face, serious and a little upset, she stopped. “I mean, it’s not like we have the best thing going on here anyways, and I just don’t want to be—” She paused, about to say heartbroken, or used, or a placeholder for when you find someone better, but Tyler cut her off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He started the truck, engine roaring to life. “It was dumb, nevermind. I’ll take you home.”

“Tyler, you know what I meant—”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re just messing around, right? That’s all this is, just messing around.”

He didn’t say another word on the ride home. 

He dropped her off, barely waiting for her to shut the truck door before he drove away.

***

Tyler didn’t answer any of Y/N’s calls or texts for the next few days. Y/N was upset, barely leaving her room checking her phone obsessively for any sign of Tyler Owens. She even started watching his YouTube channel, but there hadn’t been any uploads for over a month. Nothing on Instagram or Facebook, either.

Her mother yelled up the stairs to her one night, calling her down.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Her mom said upon seeing Y/N.

“This is what I always wear. Why?” Y/N was suddenly self conscious, confused as to why her parents cared what she wore in the house.

“Tonight’s the fair,” her mother responded, attempting to jog her memory.

“You’re helping us run our booth?” Her father tried.

“Ah, shit,” Y/N mumbled, remembering. “Do I have to go? I totally forgot.”

“Of course you have to go!” Her father said. “We need the three of us there; it’s a family ranch, remember?”

“Besides,” her mother added. “The Owens’s will be there. We can’t let them get a leg up on us! If you’re not there, Tyler will be running the show for sure.”

“Well, maybe not,” her father said. “He’s doing the kissing booth, remember?”

“The what?” Y/N said. “Tyler’s doing a kissing booth?”

Her father nodded. “To raise funds for his family’s ranch. He and his whole ‘team’ will be there, whatever they’re called.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. Was that what Tyler was trying to talk to her about the other day? The kissing booth? But why would it matter what Y/N thought about it?

Her mother ushered her up the stairs. “For Pete’s sake, change into something nice, and quickly!”

Oh, shit.

***

The Humble Creek Fair was bustling with energy. People from nearby towns came to see what it was all about, and it was always the most popular time of year.

Y/N sat at her family’s booth, eyes peeled for Tyler. She kept checking her phone to see if he’d answered, but when she didn’t get any notifications she decided to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to her parents.

They both nodded, and her father added, “Make sure to see how the Owens’ booth is doing. I want to make sure we’ll still be in business next year.”

Y/N looked around for the kissing booth, and when she saw a long line of women, she followed it to the front. She walked around to the back of the attraction, but didn’t see Tyler anywhere. It wasn’t until she’d nearly given up entirely when she heard a voice behind her.

“What are you wearing?”

She whisked around, coming face-to-face with Tyler, who was holding some sort of weird meat on a stick.

“What are you eating?”

“Pork leg, fried and marinated in pickle juice,” he said, shrugging. “I’m hoping it’ll make my breath smell bad so less people come up. Now, back to you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re wearing a dress. You never wear dresses. ‘Jeans and a t-shirt, that’s me,’” he says, doing a poor impression of her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do, but that’s besides the point. What’s your deal?”

Y/N shrugged uncomfortably. “I wanted to, I guess.”

Tyler looked at her dead-on. “You look nice, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been texting you for days. No response. But now that I’m here, all I get is, ‘I look nice’?” 

“What else do you want from me?”

“An answer, Tyler. What’s your deal? Why didn’t you tell me about the kissing booth?”

“I tried to, but then you came at me with all that ‘this is a bad idea’ crap, and I figured you didn’t want me to tell you. Or you didn’t care if I told you or not.”

“Okay, so—”

“Wait.” He stops her. “Do you care?”

Y/N kicks the ground. “If I did?”

“If you did,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I’d drop the pork leg and kiss you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’d eat the pork leg, and I’d kiss a bunch of people who aren’t you, and I’d feel like shit about it.” He took another step closer to her, nearly closing the gap between them. “Please say you care.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed. “You’re gonna make me say it? You can’t just, like, infer from the situation?”

“I’m really bad at inferring things,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “So, I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“You’re pretty, L/N. Like, so pretty. But I do need to hear you say it, and I’m also gonna need you to—”

“I care, Tyler. Now shut up and kiss me, or I’m gonna take it back.”

“Can’t take it back, babe. It’s set in stone.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped the pork leg, grabbed Y/N by the waist with his other hand, and pulled her into a kiss. It was deep and passionate, not like any of the other times they’ve kissed. They kept it going for as long as they can, holding their breath until they couldn’t anymore, and then they pulled apart, gasping for air with their foreheads touching.

“Will you go out with me?” He asked her, still struggling for air. “Like, on a real date, not just driving in the truck?”

“I guess,” Y/N said, teasingly. “If I have to.”

“I mean, you don’t have to. But if you do, I’m gonna need you to wear this again.” He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Because, if I’m being honest, L/N, this is the hottest I’ve ever seen you. Like, I didn’t think you could get hotter, but here we are. Speaking of, can we go? I really want to go somewhere with you. Like, privately.” He winked at her, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes again.

“Don’t you need to raise money for your farm?” She asked him, gesturing to the booth behind them.

“Fuck the farm,” he said. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” she said, pulling him into another kiss.

“Seriously though, can we go?”

[gurugirl]

1. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: You nanny for the Styles, but Harry and his wife would like to offer you another position.

A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: 18+ only, smut (fingering)

The Unicorn Masterlist

“She’s perfect, Harry.” His wife watched out of the window as you walked to your car parked in front of their house.

“I don’t know. She’s taking care of the kids every day while we’re at work. How does that make her perfect?”

“Because look at her! And she’s so sweet and I just have a sense for these things. She acts all shy and innocent but I bet she’s kinky under it all. And haven’t you seen the way she looks at you?”

He had noticed your glances. The placement of your gaze over his frame. But Harry never thought too deeply about it. Not really. Though he kind of liked that you couldn’t help from dropping your gaze to his lips and then down over his shoulders and mid-torso until every time you breezed your pupils over the natural protrusion at the front of his crotch you were suddenly quickly reminded of what you were doing and bounced your head back just the tiniest bit to correct your sight to the more appropriate height.

But just because you were cute and couldn’t help when your eyes skimmed over his cock with the quickest peek didn’t mean you were perfect to invite into the bedroom with him and his wife. He was hesitant to find a third. He knew that it was unlikely this would end well but his wife had been begging him for it.

Kit was bisexual and once she married Harry, she learned that she often missed the more feminine touches and pretty soft curves. Someone more submissive. It had been almost 8 years since she’d slept with a woman so when she offered a threesome to Harry, she thought he’d jump right at the opportunity but instead, he was worried.

“I think this is a bad idea no matter who it is, but having it be the nanny is like…” he ran a ringed-clad hand through his hair, “… the worst. What if you don’t like seeing me with another woman? Or if I hate seeing you kiss anyone else? I don’t know if I can handle this. And poor Y/n is then stuck in the middle.”

“Harry,” she turned to him and put her hand on his forearm, “You and I are solid. I trust you and you trust me. I know you can handle this. Just the same as I can. I think this will be really good for us. Probably will just make us insatiable for each other. I’m already getting so turned on just thinking about watching you with her. And just imagine it, Harry, having us both laid out, spread legs…” She smoothed a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, pressing herself close to his body, “You dip into her for a few thrusts and then pull out and—“

“Mom, can I have ice cream? Y/n said I had to wait til you and Dad were home.”

Harry and his wife laughed at the timing. They’d be returning to their conversation later.

.           .           .

You arrived bright and early Monday morning as requested. You loved nannying for the Styles. Mrs. Styles was so kind to you. She always made sure you had everything you needed and Mr. Styles was funny and easygoing. Plus the twins were a dream. You loved William and Warner as if they were your own.

“Morning, Y/n,” Mr. Styles smiled warmly at you as he opened the door. Warner walked up to you and hugged you. He was the one that liked hugs a lot.

“Morning Mr. Styles…” you laughed and patted Warner’s back, “and you too Warner.”

Mr. and Mrs. Styles left for work not long after but before they left they both asked you if you could stay after work that night. Mrs. Styles would make dinner and the three of you could have a glass of wine and chat a bit after the kids were put to bed.

Of course, you said you’d love to. Though you had kind of been looking forward to going home and watching your show, you wouldn’t mind having dinner with the Styles. The truth was you found Mr. Styles extremely attractive. He was the hottest guy you’d ever seen. He was married so he was obviously off limits but that didn’t stop your brain from short-circuiting every time you were near him.

And because of the way Mrs. Styles acted around you, almost flirty, you sort of had a crush on her too. You were interested in women but had never dated one. You’d only ever been in a couple of real relationships. You were too shy to approach people you found attractive so your pool of potential dates had been low.

So yeah, you’d accept their invitation for dinner.

.           .           .

“William made a picture today,” you rattled off a few things the boys did. The picture William drew was too cute and he even drew you in between Mr. and Mrs. Styles like you were part of the family.

He held it up proudly and Harry took it and pointed at the figure that was supposed to be you, “Who’s this, Will?”

“It’s Y/n,” he gestured to you.

Harry smiled at William and said how nice it was as he handed the paper back to him. He looked at you for a moment that felt a little warm and lingering before Mrs. Styles brought out the hot pan with food to the table.

When the table had grown quiet as everyone began to eat you wanted to remind Warner to tell his dad that he’d finally gotten the part down on the piano that Harry was teaching him.

“Warner, remember what you were supposed to tell Daddy today?”

When you looked at Harry with a smile you noticed the slightly surprised look on his face but by then it was too late. You hadn’t meant to let the word Daddy slip out like that. If you’d been thinking you’d have said “… supposed to tell your dad today?” Even the twins didn’t call Harry Daddy anymore.

And of course, Warner was already excitedly telling Harry about the part he’d learned on the piano before you could correct it. You hoped no one thought anything of it and while you’d fantasized about calling him Daddy a time or two, you really didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Darting your eyes from Harry to his wife you saw nothing from her at all as a reaction to your misspeak.

Luckily no one seemed bothered by it but you could tell Harry thought something by the surprised smile on his face.

You loved watching the boys interact with their parents. And being able to see it during dinner and then after clean up until they were in their beds with books to read quietly felt special.

Harry, his wife, and you sat in the living room with a bottle of wine. Mrs. Styles sat next to you and she started doing that thing where she looks at you in that way that gets your heart pounding and raises your temperature.

With her hand on your upper arm, she gushed about how much she and Harry loved you. How great of a nanny you were and how lucky they were to have found you.

Harry sat across from the couch in a leather armchair and watched you and Kit with a more solemn look on his face. He nodded at the end of his wife’s praise for you as he looked at you directly. You felt a shiver up your spine at the intensity of his eyes. But it wasn’t just that. There was something so formidable about him. Like he was governing over the moment. He was still Mr. Styles but with an edge of something uncertain. Darker.

You looked back at Mrs. Styles and smiled shyly, “Thank you. So much. I’m really happy to be working for you. And the twins are just amazing. I feel so lucky too.”

Kit’s hand smoothed down your forearm until she softly pushed her fingers through yours. She was sitting with her legs tucked under herself, feet on the couch, and knees angled toward you.

“Honey, you’re coming on too strong,” Harry chided his wife.

“No, I’m not. I’m just being friendly. Y/n is so sweet. I just…” she looked at you, “You don’t mind this do you?”

You loved the way she was looking at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d say she was hitting on you. That had to be wrong, though. Her husband was right there watching you two.

“It’s fine. I know you’re just being friendly.”

Harry laughed and shook his head and spoke his wife’s name in a warning, “Kit. Are you sure you want to do this?”

You looked between the pair. A little confused about what they were talking about. You didn’t know if you’d missed some dialogue somewhere or what but you were definitely picking up a vibe between them.

“If she’s up for it then yes, I’m sure.”

“Up for what?” You questioned them both.

Harry raised his brows and looked at his wife, “I’ll let you do the honors.”

Her hand squeezed at yours gently, bringing your attention back to her. Her other hand brushed over your knee with the tip of her fingers casually, “We think you’re very sweet and pretty, Y/n.” Kit began.

You kept your eyes on hers the best you could but she’d been wearing a low-cut dress and, not unlike the times you dropped your gaze to Harry’s crotch, you couldn’t help peeking at her cleavage with the same attempted deftness.

“And we think you might be fun to…” she paused and looked at Harry, who nodded at her to go on, “Have in bed. For us to share.”

You looked down at where Mrs. Styles was grazing your kneecap with her fingertip and whispered, “To share.”

That was quite a lot. If what she was saying was what you thought she was saying then you’d have to determine if it was worth it.

“You don’t have to say yes, Y/n.” Harry chimed in, “I know you’re a really sweet girl and you don’t want to disappoint anyone but if you tell us no we won’t be upset. You won’t lose your job.”

You were thankful he said that. It had flashed across your mind the idea that if you said no they might not want to keep you around.

“So, you’re like asking me to have a…” you gulped and looked between Harry and his wife, “like a threesome with you?”

“Yes. You don’t have to decide right now. And like Harry said, you don’t have to say yes. We just both find you very appealing and sweet. We’re very much attracted to you too and we trust you. I think we’d all work well together. It could be just a one-time thing or maybe it could be something we do regularly.”

The subject was changed shortly after. They’d done their part. They’d asked you what you thought and now the ball was in your court. You had to figure out what you wanted. Which made it hard to participate in the rest of the conversation. You tried but your brain was having a hard time moving past the things your imagination was coming up with.

“I hope you don’t feel weird after this. No rush to make a decision. Seriously.” Mrs. Styles smiled softly at you as she drew her fingers from the side of your jaw to under your chin delicately.

“Thank you. I just need some time to think.”

She leaned in and kissed your cheek as Harry stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder.

When you’d all finished the bottle of wine Harry and Kit walked you to the door. You still didn’t know what you wanted exactly. In a fun fantasy world (which you’d definitely be visiting in your imagination that night) it would be amazing. To have them both? Yes. That sounded so good. But the reality of it wouldn’t be that easy you knew. Would it be awkward to work for them after? And what if you did some kind of arrangement with them as their… what was it called? A unicorn?  

You felt breathless as you got into your car. You hadn’t had all that much wine. A glass and a half. The bottle was split between all three of you so none of you had gotten even close to drunk but you felt all buzzy. And even turned on. The idea of what they were offering sounded like a dream. But maybe that’s how it should remain. Just a dream. A fantasy.

.           .           .

The following day everything seemed normal. The Styles acted as if they hadn’t just asked if you’d want to have a threesome with them. It felt surreal. Like perhaps it never happened.

But when Harry arrived home first after work you felt like something about him was different. That’s when the cracks started forming. That morning he was friendly like he always was. But now he was brooding. His eyes were heavy on you. As if he was now looking at you differently.

He listened to William and Warner tell him about their day but you felt his eyes singing you as he kept looking your way. You felt intimidated by him suddenly and looking at him in increments longer than a few seconds felt like you’d dissolve.

He walked you to the door after you said goodbye to the boys and held the handle tight before turning it, “You wouldn’t want to stay for a drink would you?”

The way he asked you felt less like a question and more like a reminder to you of what was still left on the table. It was a reaffirmation of what was suggested the night before. It was real. It had happened and he was here to remind you.

You looked down at his hand grasped around his door handle and back up to him. You were compelled to say yes as you began to nod, “Yes. Okay.”

You felt nervous. Harry’s grin looked like he was pleased by your answer.

The boys were playing in their room as he poured you a glass of wine.

“When will Mrs. Styles come home?” It was rare that they weren’t home at nearly the same time after work.

“She’s going out with a friend tonight. She’ll be late. I thought you and I could get to know one another a little better. She knows I planned on asking you to stay. I’m glad you did.”

You nodded and felt your nerves only grow. Alone time with Mr. Styles wasn’t something that ever really happened much. Normally Harry was with his wife when he discussed anything with you.

You both sat on the large couch in the living room as Harry lifted his glass toward yours, clinking them together.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Harry had one leg draped over his other casually as he looked down at you.

“Uh… I don’t have any. Normally I just make last-minute plans with friends,” you squirmed in your spot at the way he was consuming you with his eyes.

“Maybe if you find you’re free you could come over Saturday afternoon. The kids will be staying with their grandparents. Kit will be making something special for dinner.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. Yeah. I mean, as long as it’s not imposing,” you were growing hot. Your palms were sweating. Harry was so attractive it was making your body weak. You honestly didn’t care what would be made for dinner but you were curious about where the night might lead if you did wind up in their house without their kids around all night.

“Of course, you wouldn’t be imposing. You’d be the guest of honor,” Harry’s arm slid over the back of the cushion behind you, and you gulped nervously.

“Oh, that’s…” you breathed out a jittery laugh, “… not necessary. No need to do anything special for me.”

“I hope you know that anything that happens, we’d always make it special for you, Y/n. We want you to feel comfortable.”

You could feel the temperature around your body rise with his proximity. You had noted how he’d inched his way a bit closer.

“Thank you, Harry. You and Mrs. Styles are always so nice to me.”

You were visibly nervous. Harry could see it too.

His wife had suggested that he invite you to stay for a drink and more if you allowed it. She really wanted to try any angle to get you to say yes to their offer. She figured if you were alone with Harry for a bit maybe you’d feel more comfortable. So, Harry was working on just that. And the more he thought about you and his wife’s convincing argument to bring in a third, he found he was more and more into the idea.

Plus you were simply the sweetest thing. He could see that you were a little timid and somehow that made his body respond to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. It set his blood to a low boil. His wife was lovely. Amazing in bed but it was true that with her there was something missing. He rarely got the opportunity to dominate his wife and really release his natural inclination to flex his prowess with her. Because she was dominant as well. And Harry didn’t mind it for the most part. But he missed certain things.

“We’d like to be more than just nice to you, darling,” his fingers behind you softly brushed against your neck and you inhaled shallowly at the contact. “But you already know what we want. How about you? What do you want, Y/n?”

You fluttered your eyes closed for a moment as you felt the pad of Harry’s thumb slide up your neck. Harry’s cologne and his natural scent were so appealing. You turned to look at him and worked up your nerve, “I think it sounds really fun. The offer. I’ve never been with a woman.”

He licked his lips, “You’ve experienced men, then, yeah?”

You nodded. You were sure he could see you physically melt.

“What do you like, Y/n?”

You had not expected the conversation to go this way, “I don’t… I’m not sure. I’ve not really done a lot. Nothing too crazy,” you laughed your words in embarrassment.

Harry’s soft petting on your neck continued, “That’s okay. We can figure it out as we go. To be honest, we’ve never done anything like this either.”

“And Mrs. Styles? Has she been with women?”

Harry nodded, “Yes. This was her idea actually. She’s been missing a feminine presence in bed.”

You felt the trickle of lust and carnal need swell in your body as Harry drew his free hand across his body and to your knee, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on his. You wanted to lean forward and grab your glass of wine and gulp the whole thing in one go but you wouldn’t dare break from his hold. It was intimate and having his hands on you was satisfying.

Harry looked toward the hallway and then back to you, “I’d like to kiss you. Y/n. Are you comfortable with letting me kiss you?”

His lips felt like they’d burst into flames if he didn’t press them into yours. But he couldn’t do that in front of the twins because he knew that once he felt your mouth and your tongue he was going to want more and if you were open to it he’d take it even further. His wife had given him permission as long as he was discreet (not in front of the boys). No sex without her present but some heavy petting and fingering were fine.

“Okay,” you breathed and expected him to kiss you right then as you braced yourself.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your thigh and tilted his head as he looked down over your body, “Go into my bedroom. I’ll be right there.”

You were shaky as you stood up and watched Harry walk away to talk to the twins in their room. The boys were old enough that they’d play by themselves just fine, you knew. You lifted your glass of wine to your lips and gulped half at once. You couldn’t even remember walking to the master bedroom upstairs. Your mind was a swirl of what-ifs and scenarios and questions.

“Are you okay?” Harry said as he closed the door behind himself. Everything was happening in slow motion. You were trying not to feel so floaty and far away but you couldn’t help it. Your experience with sex had been minimal and you certainly had never pictured yourself as part of this situation.

“I’m just nervous. I’m always like this the first time…” You swallowed and looked at the edge of the dresser against the wall.

“That’s okay,” Harry stepped in front of you and rubbed his hands down your arms, “I’m a little nervous too but I really want to kiss you. Just didn’t want the boys to see.”

You nodded in understanding, “And it’s okay with Mrs. Styles?”

His hands slowly grazed up your arms to your shoulders and then around to the back of your neck and head, “Her idea. But in all honesty, I want to kiss you. Feel like I need to.”

Blinking your eyes you raised your arms to hold onto his biceps as you kept your eyes pinned to his. He was solid under your hand. Of course, he was. You knew Mr. Styles was fit and you’d seen him in shorts and t-shirts and once glimpsed his pecs. You knew he had tattoos.

But when he finally nudged his nose to yours and his hot lips wrapped around your mouth everything went from being slow motion and blurry to high speed and heart pounding. You couldn’t get enough of his mouth and his tongue and you gripped his arms until he’d practically lifted you off your feet and pulled you to his bed.

His kisses were wet and warm and he moaned into your mouth. He was ravenous. It made you feel like a seductress, like he craved you.

You were across his lap and twisted to face him with your arms over his shoulders and your tongue pressed to his when he cupped your face and parted from the kiss.

“Y/n… Fuck honey…” he dabbed a kiss to your jaw and then looked back at you, “Can I get your pants off? Make you feel good? No sex tonight,” his words were deep and thick, “That’s for Saturday. But for now,” he ran a hand up your thigh up to your hip, “I can give you a preview with my fingers. If you want.”

“Yes, Harry,” you breathed your words and tried to lean back in for another kiss but he kept you at a distance, his hands on your jaw and fingers cradling the back of your head.

“I really liked it when you referred to me as Daddy last night. Will you do that for me again, honey?”

See. That was the thing. You already thought of him as Daddy. In all your private fantasies you called him Daddy. But it made you nervous because you fantasized about Harry far more than you ever did his wife. Kit was beautiful and she was definitely your type but Harry dominated your secret daydreams. So it would be easy for you to call him Daddy. But it worried you when it came to having his wife included in that dynamic.

“Is that okay? I mean,” you sighed breathily, “Will Mrs. Styles be okay if I call you Daddy?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind,” Harry licked his lips, “Tell you what. Tonight, call me Daddy because I want to hear your sweet voice say it when I finger you, okay? I’ll talk to her and let her know I asked you to and I think she won’t care but if she doesn’t like it we won’t do it again.”

You nodded. Daddy it was. That would be easy.

Harry brought an arm to your low back and leaned you down onto his bed. The bed he shared with his wife. With his knees dug into the bed next to your hip he loomed over you and brought a gentle hand up to the front of your neck and pressed, “How does this feel? Is this okay?”

It was a first for you. To have someone’s hand on your throat. It was a surprise. But the good kind. You loved how small it made you feel and how powerless. You knew if you asked him to remove his hand he would but the notion that you were physically relinquishing your power to him was so hot to you somehow.

“It’s good,” you breathed just before he inched down to kiss you again.

It felt absolutely nuts what you were doing. Making out with your boss, a married man, in his bedroom while his wife who was away gave him permission and even encouraged this situation.

Harry’s hand slid off of your neck and down your t-shirt, “Can we take this off? All of it? So I can see you?”

You nodded, “Yes,” and sat up so you could pull your shirt over your head. Harry unbuttoned his own and watched you unzip your pants and tuck your fingers inside the waistband before lifting your bum to pull them down your legs.

With his shirt unbuttoned you saw more tattoos. You’d paused for just a moment when you took note of his bare chest and abs.

Harry got to his knees and leaned over you, his hands on either side of your hips, “Do you need help with this?”

He put his hands over yours where you were grasping your waistband and helped you pull them off your legs.

His hands found your calves as he looked at you, “You’re so pretty, Y/n. Take your bra off.”

So you did. Unhooking the back and letting the front fall down your arms. Harry’s hands found their spot on either side of your hips again as he softly kissed each of your nipples, “Beautiful. Can I take your panties off?” His fingers were already dancing over the fabric of your waistband, knowing you’d be saying yes.

You gulped and nodded as he dragged the material down your legs, rendering you completely nude. Harry let out a breath as he raked his eyes over skin and curve and freckle.

Harry lay next to you and took your hand in his, bringing it up between you on the mattress, “You still doing okay, Y/n?”

You were feeling very vulnerable and insane for laying completely naked next to him but still you nodded. Because you wanted more of what he was doing.

You rolled to face him on your side when he smeared his mouth over yours. Letting go of your hand he moved his fingers down over your side to your hip and then upper thigh just at the curve of your ass. He squeezed softly but enough that you could feel his big palm grasping your flesh. You lifted your thigh to mantle his hip out of instinct and his palm spread out over the globe of your cheek.

“Want my fingers, honey?”

The way the tips of his fingers were grazing so close to your pussy with your leg draped over him you were losing your mind. All he had to do was lower an inch and he’d feel your wetness.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Harry moaned and moved his head back to look at you, “Oh I really like how that sounds. Let’s have a look then,” he ran his hand over your hip to the front of your tummy as he moved back the tiniest bit to press his fingers over your mound. Slowly his fingers lowered until he met soft wet lips. He breathed in through his teeth, “You all wet for Daddy?”

The smile on his face was cocky but you loved it.

“Yes,” you bit your lip.

With his eyes on yours, he parted your labia with two fingers and slowly ran them down to your opening and then back up until he bumped your clit and pressed over that. You moaned softly.

He was easy with his fingers on you as he kept slipping them up and down, pushing your arousal through your crease and getting his fingers coated.

When he captured your lips in his again you felt him prodding at your entrance. You sucked his tongue into your mouth and he pressed two fingers inside as you grasped onto his shoulder.

You groaned as he fingered you and fixated on the spongy dip inside. You bucked into his hand, “There we go. Feels good doesn’t it?”

You panted yesssss.

The sloppy noises that were coming from between your legs would have been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.

“Please,” you breathed as you lowered your hand to his hip, “I wanna see.”

Harry kept thrusting into you with his fingers while his thumb smoothed against your clit, “You can on Saturday, baby. For now, this is all about you.”

You whined and closed your watery eyes as he began to fuck into you faster. His palm was a sticky mess. You raised your hip and rutted into his hand harder.

“You’re gonna grip me so tight and I’m gonna push inside you deep,” he punctuated his words with his thrusts, “Have you creaming all over my cock.”

Your groans grew louder as he pasted his mouth to your neck and you felt the warm press of his tongue on your skin, his curls brushing against your jaw. He shifted so that suddenly you were on your back and he was on his side with his fingers still inside of you, lips on your breasts.

He felt so good and you were already so caught up in the way he was making you feel you’d all but forgotten that this man was married and he was your boss. This was better than your fantasies. He was more confident and a lot more dominant in reality. And just sweet enough that you felt safe.

Harry lifted upward slightly, still pumping his fingers through you causing you to let out a small squeal. You felt his hand cover your mouth and you peeled your eyes open as he lowered his lips to your tits, his fingers plowing through your walls. You were being too loud.

He peered up at you with his tongue gliding over your nipple, his shoulder flexing with each thrust of his arm. Yes, this was definitely better than fantasy. Because it was happening and it felt so good.

You felt his lips slip off the skin of your nipple, “If I take my hand off, you gonna keep quiet?”

 Nodding your head you softly moaned into his hand. He pulled his hand away from your mouth and leaned over you to kiss your mouth. Softly at first. It felt like candy-flavored pink sparkle dust magic with his warm lips smoothing against yours, and his nose mushing into your nose.

“Daddy, please…” you breathed as he lifted himself to look down at you.

“What baby?” The sound of your wet pussy getting fingered was the backdrop of you beginning to unravel.

“M’gonna come… Daddy, ffuu– ohhh!” Your mouth was quickly covered again when your volume grew even louder than it had been. You heard Harry softly chuckle just as you clenched around his fingers and grasped his forearm, your neck stretched over the pillow as you arched your back.

Harry looked down at his hand and groaned at how your pussy was devouring his fingers. He couldn’t wait to see what his cock would look like sinking into your perfect cunt. And he thought you were pretty when you orgasmed. He was sure he’d want to make you come over and over again if his wife wasn’t too greedy with you.

“Such a good little girl, Y/n. There you go, baby.” He smirked at you, his fingers still slipping into you, squelching when he buried them in all the way.

“This what you needed? Needed to come on Daddy’s fingers?” Your soft moan was muffled as you finally set your gaze back on Harry who was already looking at you.

“Just imagine how good it’s gonna feel on my cock.” He slid his thumb over your clit and you jolted from sensitivity.

Harry took his hand off your mouth and slowly pulled his fingers from your pussy as he sat back, stuffing his fingers into his mouth to taste you. He could smell your pussy as he was fingering you and couldn’t wait to get a taste.

Popping his fingers out of his mouth he caged you into your spot on the mattress, hovering over you, “How was that?”

“So good,” you were still taking in labored breaths.

His mouth encased yours once again. His kiss was lustful and fiery. You could smell yourself when he cradled your head, his fingers, still damp with you, swiping into strands of your hair.

A deep moan fell from his chest and you pulled your arms over his shoulders and the cotton of his shirt. Your body began to ignite again just before he parted from your mouth with a gasp.

“I’m sorry. Got carried away. Your lips are so sweet,” his voice was deep and breathy. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded and smiled.

Harry insisted on helping you clean up. First, you peed but then he came in and wet a towel to help wipe you and talk to make sure you were okay.

You could tell he had a boner. The front of his trousers was bulged in an obvious way. His pupils were dark and his skin was hot. And you would have loved to have him use you however he wanted to take care of himself but you wouldn’t go against his Kit’s wishes.

“So, Saturday? You sure you want to come over?” Harry handed you the clothes he’d picked up from the floor and his bed.

“Yeah. I’d like to.”

Harry cupped your jaw and smudged your cheekbone with his thumb, “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

He walked you out to your car and squeezed your hand before dropping it. It felt strange. Like you’d just gotten away with something so immoral and improper but you were elated.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Y/n. Drive safe.”

“Okay. Thank you, Da–“ your eyes widened and you felt your whole body wash in heat as you tried to correct your near-fatal error, “Ha- Harry.”

The grin on his face with smiling dimples told you that he didn’t mind, “Night, sweet girl.”

Part 2

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[lyssaluvs]

Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again. 

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.  The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

[thehighladywrites]

𝖠𝖢𝖮𝖳𝖠𝖱 𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖧𝖢’𝖲

summary: being girly in a world full of haters can be hard sometimes! I mean, people hate all the time. but these males don’t let any disrespect towards you slide. They protect you through and through 👀

warnings: fluff, tw:beron😒

amara’s note: this went from being an azriel fic, to rhys and azriel, to batboys, to batboys+lucien and finally all of them. Honestly idc bc i love all of them🤭🤭

Rhysand

Fashion bf x barbie doll gf

I can’t think of anything more cuter than being his doll.

The man does everything for you,

Picking out materials for dresses, designing them for you, working with a private seamstress to bring his visions to life

He knows you best and always supplies the cutest, girliest outfits ever

This man is so attentive and caring, he doesn’t even have to ask what you want to wear, he just knows. It’s like you share a brain

Rhys absolutely loves it when you ask for his advice on hairstyles and fashion choices. He literally goes into designer mode and fixes you up reaaaal nice

When you guys are in the Hewn City, you don’t care, you still wear your pink girly clothes bc who’s gonna say anything to the high lady?

Sparkly accessories, high heels, pretty makeup and cute hairstyles is your trademark.

Rhys loves that you are super girly, he likes the dynamic of him being dark and mysterious and you being bright and bubbly

He protects you like crazy, no one is even managing to say something insulting to you bc rhys takes care or it before the sentence even forms in their mind

Cassian

brooding bf x sunshine gf

This combo is top tier

At first, Cassian might've thought you were a bit too cheery and too involved in yourself. I mean, who else has a massive stash of fragrances, lotions, sparkly jewels, clothes, tons of bags, and enough shoes to fill a closet?

Also, who in the world is that insanely cheerful? There are a million things to focus on, and you're there pondering over matching shades of pink and which bag to wear for the day.

He tries to keep his distance, but you're so inviting and warm that he just melts and falls head over heels in love.

Cassian also falls in love with how much you care for yourself and how adorable you look every single day.

You notice how you’re always seeing him always in plain, simple athleisure or leather. So, you take matters into your own hands and whisk him away for a shopping spree, upgrading his entire wardrobe. Despite his potential, he's been stuck in a rut of black, plain, and boring clothes, and you're determined to change that.

After just a few weeks of being together, this guy has a full-on skincare routine, knows how to coordinate outfits flawlessly so he looks very put together and handsome

He has even mastered the art of silky-smooth hair thanks to you. You've truly leveled him up in every way.

Everyone can't help but notice how much more refreshed and attractive Cassian looks, and it's making you second-guess your decision to help him level up because now, people are hitting on him even more.

Azriel

Scary bf x shy gf

Top tier combo again

No one really knows how such polar opposites ended up together, but suppose they do say opposites attract.

Azriel is stoic around everyone who isn’t the direct inner circle. He lets loose around his found family but even more so around you

Really, he is super comfortable and funny when you’re alone

Azriel notices how soft spoken and kind hearted you are very early on

He is very attentive and your style is actually first thing he notices

The frilly skirts, cute tops, styled hair, cutesy nails and an aura that screamed femininity

He considers his daggers as accessories while you wear cute headbands and ribbons in your hair

Azriel’s fav activity is watching you get ready for anything, whether it be for bed, an event, in the mornings or date nights

He just adores watching your moves, how much effort you put in, the different techniques you use and how you pamper yourself

Pride fills him when he sees how relaxed and put together you feel and look. There is nothing he likes more than seeing you happy with yourself

I also believe az can be traditional and likes the dynamic of having a girly girl mate, or you being all feminine and sweet while he is more masculine and protective

Bro let’s actually talk about protection

No one, I mean absolutely no one, insults you and gets away with it. No matter how snarky the comment, Azriel deals with it.

You’re not as confrontational as him and often hide behind his wings and that makes him even more protective if possible

You always calm him down when someone says something, and he listens to you. If you don't want him to deal with it then and there, he won't ever confront someone in front of you.

Azriel just handles it later, putting fear into people for even daring to approach you.

He wouldn’t do anything remotely scary or frightening in fromt of you. Azriel keeps his work and personal life separate, especially from you

Az couldn’t dream of accidentally putting you in danger, so he never, EVER drags you into his work

You’re not stupid, you know the toll his work takes on him so you are there for him without being too involved, you know how to cheer him up from whatever he is doing behind closed doors

Eris

Arrogant bf x dark feminine gf

Power couple through and through

Eris is canonically extremely well dressed and that makes this dynamic so special

Eris adores splurging on his seamstresses to create matching outfits for both of you.

Best dressed couple in Prythian, hands down

You two are fashion icons, inspiring countless people. People look up to you as their inspiration. Established luxury brands pay you handsomely to flaunt their designs at balls, where all eyes are on you.

Speaking of matching, y’all have matching smirks and cunning mind, and since you’re mates, you have a way of communicating and plotting without anyone knowing

Before, while B*ron🤢 was alive, Eris was ridiculed for having soft hands, clean nails, and good hygiene, which always disgusted him. Why was being clean looked down upon? It disgusted him, knowing that people purposely rather be dirty than clean

Everything got better when you came around and his father passed away. Finally, he had someone who didn't judge him, someone who actually encouraged him to look his best.

You often sit in his lap, plucking his eyebrows as he wears a face mask, his hair pushed back by a cute alien headband.

You often also get manicures, and at first, Eris was like, "This is where I draw the line." But when you suggested just a clear coat and cleaning the nails, he went along with it.

No one knows though. That's the only compromise; I mean, he's still the High Lord, and people can't know he gets manicures. He'd be ridiculed for some stupid macho reason.

Anyways, when it comes to protecting you, no one does it better than him. Not only will he destroy the person with his words but he will blackmail and psychologically torture them. It might seem mean but that’s the price of people not properly respecting their High Lady

Lucien

calm bf x hyper and outspoken gf

you are an absolute sweetheart, there is no one that hates you in the slightest.

In this scenario, I think you're known for rescuing stray animals. It's not like collecting Pokémon cards; instead, you're the person who steps up when there's a stray kitten in need of care.

You definitely live in a cute cottage in the woods with him, not worrying about anything with him there

Your house is an explosion of adorable decor, with pink accents everywhere you look. It's filled with super cute and girly decorations in every corner.

When you start dating Lucien, he notices how hyper you are and how you juggle multiple tasks at once.

Lucien is like your calming anchor, keeping your energy balanced and the vibes serene.

One of your biggest hyperfixations is clothes. Whether it's dresses, coats, pants, shoes, fabrics, or makeup, anything feminine is right up your alley.

And Lucien makes sure you don't overexert yourself, always looking out for your well-being.

Since you're so hyper, you're sometimes loud in certain moments. It really hurts when people tell you to shut up and calm down.

lucien doesn’t let it slide tho

This man defends you however he deems necessary, whether it's with his words or hands.

Just know, he always has your back, no matter what.

No one is suffocating your light and energy if he has anything to do with it.

[psychopathseraphim]

Hi :)

Can I suggest the mercs having a really bad day (maybe even crying) and their s/o comforting them.

The s/o can be female or gn :)

Sniper, Soldier and Engineer

Sniper, Soldier and Engineer seeking comfort

Hello, anon! Sorry if this is shitty— no proofread, and I’m writing this on a trainnnn…

Sniper

Not usually the type to express his emotions freely; worries that him venting could bother you… would probably keep whatever’s bothering him inside ‘til he bursts… or, well, ‘til he forgets about it

Today, however, was especially hard— trigger-finger kept messing him; aim was terribly messy; spies. All he needed was to let it out, and, frankly, he didn’t know how to

You just see your lover walk into his camper van, disheveled and obviously tense. He doesn’t say anything, just proceeds to sit down on the bed beside you with his hat off, looking towards the ground

When you ask him what’s up… 50/50 he’ll say nothing or he’ll explain in the smallest detail what went wrong about his day

You can read him pretty well, however, and every ‘discussion’ about his terrible day would end with him in your arms, or laying his head on your lap

You’d stroke his hair, telling him that he did a good job today, that everything was fine; he’d nuzzle his face into you and stay silent, enjoying the feeling of being pampered

“Yer too nice to me, roo…” he’d mutter, and you’d smile at him, continuing your ministrations— “well, that’s because you deserve it,” is what you always say; and it was nothing far from the truth

Eventually he’d fall asleep, but not before muttering an “I love ya, darl’…”

Soldier

Would probably be incredibly pent-up about the others not taking him seriously. Would come around to you and VERBALLY express himself

Due to his more-aggressive nature, Soldier would probably… feel things at higher extents; he’s easily angered and could easily cry

He would however suppress his desires to cry because ‘lashing out and being angry’ = masculine; ‘crying’ = feminine

If you do spot him crying, however, he would— no hesitation— wrap his arms around you and rack your frame while sobbing into your chest

When you ask him what’s wrong, he’d explain to you in incomprehensible English mixed with hysterical sobbing and a slight hyperventilation (ALL WHILE SCREAMING!)

Could possibly get mad at you… which will in the long run make him feel worse

“… AND NO ONE WAS FOLLOWING MY ORDERS TODAY!” He’d yell, gripping onto your sleeves even tighter

Just pet his head, reassure him that he’s not annoying, and he’ll be good to go

With enough reassurance and help, though, he’ll manage to calm down; instead falling asleep in fetal position and (possibly… possibly!) with his thumb in his mouth.

Engineer

Engie is a well-collected person… he knows how to handle his anger on his own; knows how to keep it to himself (not because he doesn’t want to burden other people, but he would prefer keeping quiet for this reason, but because he just doesn’t see any benefit in rambling)

If he feels himself getting stressed at something, he’ll turn to his work— he’ll program something to give him that boost of dopamine that he’s actually done something right!

If, however, his stresses come from his work— say, an error or malfunction he can’t crack the code of— then he doesn’t know what else to do; he can’t be useless, damn it; he can’t get things wrong!

Come into his workshop to check on him; if you see him with his head in his hands, approach him and massage his shoulders

Engineer would immediately melt into your touch; he’d let out a sigh of relief indicating his relaxation and lift up his goggles to look at you. With a dreamy, tired smile, he’d say: “hey there, pretty thing,”

You’d then try to pry him away from his workdesk… which, if he’s absolutely stressed, would work— take him to your shared room, cuddle with him, and he’ll be good to go

As for crying, Dell seems too collected for that; even if he wanted to, I believe he just can’t bring himself to— not a matter of his view on masculinity; he just can’t

[sapphicmsmarvel]

the night courts justice

pairing: platonic!rhysand x reader

summary: rhysand learns your past traumas are more alike than he assumed.

Tw: MASSIVE trigger warning for r*pe being mentioned. Graphic, graphic violence. Feminine rage, unhinged female rage. Unhinged. 

Would like to preface: this is a work of fiction, uh, yeah. 

I know people write more detailed shit than I did however, I just wanted to give the violence disclaimer bc this is the most violent thing i've ever written (i usually just write fluff!)

Happy reading to my unhinged vengeful girlypops <3 

After you turned, you got bad. You had always struggled with depression, however the fae transformation increased that feeling. 

Rhysand noticed first because you were showing the signs that he did after under the mountain.

“You’re taking care of them, so they’ll be okay when you leave.”  He had approached you on the balcony.

You weren’t an idiot. “Sometimes, I do wonder what would happen if I just…” You waved your hands around. “Ceased.” 

“You wouldn’t see Feyre again.” His voice cracked. “She was what was keeping me from…ending it after I got back.” 

“I don’t know the extent of what happened to you.” You began, “but I can fill in the blanks.” 

“How so?” “From one rape victim to another, I can see the signs.” You simply stated.

It was silent and then, “Feyre found me that night.”  Your voice was a whisper in the wind.

He paused, he could feel the sorrow radiating off of you. You swallowed, “she found me abandoned in the woods, that’s where I was taken. At the time, we had no idea who it was, or where he was from. It was close to the wall. Hence how she found me. I had been there since the previous night. Missing for almost a whole day plus a night. She was hunting at night so people wouldn't get greedy when they saw her with prey. She brought me back to the cottage, her dad was asleep, Nesta woke up because I couldn’t get up the steps and she heard a bang.” You sucked in a deep breath, “I couldn’t get up the steps because….he had hurt me too badly.” He put a hand on your shoulder, he wasn’t one for physical affection like this with someone he barely knew, but he knew you needed it.

You didn’t push him away. 

“Fey and Nesta got me up the steps, it was the first time I had seen the two of them work as a team. They got me in the bath, cleaned up the blood that was staining my legs, my…everything.” 

He tried to keep his rage contained, however it was hard, you felt the air turn denser. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Rhysand.” You laughed bitterly. “It’s over and done with.” 

“Do you want revenge?” 

You sighed, “Yes, which makes me terrible-”

“No it does not.” He hissed.

You shrugged, “it doesn’t matter.” 

After a brief silence he asked, “You said, at the time. Who was it?” 

“He was from the Spring Court. Not Tamlin or Lucien. Or the guy that Fey killed. But now that I am here, and I have the heightened senses. I recognize the different courts, it’s the smell. He smelled like the Spring Court.” 

“Can I see what he looked like?” Rhysand asked. 

You nodded and let him into your mind.

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

During the war, it had completely slipped your mind that you had told Rhys about these things. Or rather showed him the face. Feyre had come back and then you were off fighting a war. Not too much time to dwell on things. 

But, one day you were called to “the torture chamber” as you called it, however Azriel disapproved even though he also agreed. He just didn’t like how blunt you were about it. 

“What is this?” You asked. 

That’s when you could smell it. The smell of dandelions and dewy grass. The smell that had haunted your nightmares long before Hybern had. You saw him tied to a chair, beaten and bloody, his mouth had a gag stuffed in it. Azriel was behind him, Rhysand off to the side and Feyre was behind you, she had come with you. But based off the look on her face, she knew all along. 

“You can either kill him or I will.” 

“Doesn’t this look bad, High Lord?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow. “If this gets out…” 

“Oh it can, I don’t particularly care, let them know I don’t tolerate anyone being raped, let alone someone in my court. Let Tamlin come and try to defend this.” 

“He’s an asshole, but he never raped me.” Feyre walked up and put a sword in your hands. “Gut him like a fish.” 

You took the sword, ready. You looked at him as he wept. “Do you remember me?” 

Silence. 

You lifted his head with the tip of the sword, drawing blood that trickled down the metal. 

Gods, nothing has ever looked so fun. 

“I said, do you remember me?” You asked in an innocent voice. 

He shook his head, screaming around the gag. 

You widened your eyes, mockingly, “you know I screamed that night too.” 

HIs eyes widened, you didn’t know if he was recognizing your scent, or if he had done this to multiple people and he’s trying to figure out which one you were. “You went across the wall, found an innocent sixteen year old girl. A child. You took me out there and you raped me. And then at the end, when I was crying into the dirt, begging for the Mother to put me to sleep so I would stop hurting; do you remember what you said?” You asked. 

He didn’t answer, so you shoved the blade in deeper, causing a bigger waterfall the color of revenge to cascade down the blade. “I asked a question.”

He shook his head. 

You let a cruel smile slip. “You said that with the way I was acting, I had it coming.” You laughed and his eyes widened. “And now, you’ll see what you’ve had coming all these years.” 

With that you moved the sword. He let out a breath, but then saw you go to the table and grab pliers. 

“How many people?” You asked starting with his finger, that’s when you saw the wedding ring. You laughed coldly. “What poor person did you trap?” 

He glared, you smiled and took the pliers and pulled off a fingernail. He screamed around his gag and it was music to you. “I ask again, how many?” 

He kept screaming, so you kept pulling. 

Once you started on the other hand, that’s when he stopped screaming and began nodding. “You’ll tell me?” You asked. 

He nodded so you removed the gag. “Nine.” 

You let out a laugh through your nose. Not a genuine one of course, but one that showed you were about to become even more angry. “Do you remember their faces?” 

He nodded and you looked at Rhysand, “if you’d ever be so kind. I want to pay them a visit.” 

To let them know their monster is dead, and he did not die a slow death. 

Rhysand nodded to let you know, he intruded the male's mind and then left the room with Feyre. 

He would show her their faces, she would draw from memory. Then you would find them to give them peace that he was dead. 

Only Azriel was left in the cell.

Then you smiled again, a twisted and evil one, “and now our fun begins.” 

That’s when you smelled the urine. 

And your smile grew bigger. 

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

The male was later found staked to a rock by the wall. An ice pick through his forehead and his hands, pinning him to the old stone. The word “rapist” was carved into his naked chest. All fingers were broken and nine teeth were pulled out of his mouth. 

Then a letter was sent to eight houses, explaining that their monster was dead and if they chose to, they could see what became of him by going to a certain spot. 

All eight showed up. 

Well nine but no one could see her. No one could see her or the High Lord of Night Court watching. 

“You feel better?” 

You sighed, “murder is bad, however I can rest easy knowing he’s dead.” 

“Yeah, you definitely know he is.” 

You snorted, “I may have had a bit of fun.”

“He definitely deserved it, the thing with his penis though was twisted.” 

You laughed outright at that. “That was Azriel’s touch.” 

Rhysand shuddered, “once again the guy deserved it, but Gods, you filet’d that thing.” 

“They’ll find it in the autopsy.” You shrugged, sipping your hot chocolate, that fought off the cold Sunday morning. 

He lifted his cup over for a cheers and you clinked, and both of you took a sip. “We’re fucked in the head aren’t we?” You said. 

He nodded, “Oh we definitely are. At least we’re surrounded by other fucked individuals.” 

“Cheers to that.” 

And once again you clinked mugs. 

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

The next day you were called into the Feyre and Rhysand’s office, part of you wondered if it meant that the mortals had connected the murder of the Night Court and now you’d have to pay for what you’d done. 

But when you walked in, Feyre was smiling genuinely. 

Rhysand gave her a loving look, “could you at least pretend it’s something bad just to mess with her?” He drawled teasingly. 

“She’s my best friend, she’d know I was lying.” Feyre responded as if Rhysand was dumb. 

Could confirm, you would know. 

“I thought I was your best friend.” Rhysand put a hand to his chest as if he was offended but you both could tell he was not. 

You and Feyre shared a look and rolled your eyes in unison. 

“Can I just know what’s going on?” You asked. 

“We want you to be the Night Court’s Justice.” “...Isn’t that what Azriel is for?” 

“Azriel is for collecting information on enemies. You will basically be an assassin for us.” Rhysand explained. “If you so desire.” 

“Who would I go after?” 

“Anybody that poses a threat to my family.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Someone hurts anyone, including you. Then you have our full permission to slit their throats.” He said. “Obviously, we’d give you assignments. When you don’t have assignments you’d be working alongside Azriel.”

You nodded and then went, “fuck it. Okay.” 

“You don’t want to think about it?” Feyre asked. 

“If I’m taking out people that are like the bastard I just killed, then I will do it. Rapists deserve nothing else.” 

Rhysand smirked, “welcome to the court.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

[frvnkcastles]

I was wondering if you could write a fic where reader has abandonment issues and she's scared that frank will one day just get bored of her and leave?

love your work 💙

’TIL THE EARTH STARTS TO CRUMBLE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’re wired to always assume everyone will leave you. Frank is determined to change that.

Warnings: Abandonment issues, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: Thank you so much for the support anon! This was easy to write because this is something I also struggle with MAJORLY. I feel you, you’re not alone <3 It really sucks but the right people will stay and reassure you always!!

You didn’t want to be too clingy, you really didn’t. But when you’ve found someone like Frank, you’ve gotta cherish every moment with that person and make sure they won’t leave you, right? That was what you told yourself, anyway, not that you’d actually reveal what was going on inside your head to him directly. To you, it just seemed like opening up about your issues would only give him more reason to walk out on you, it would only push him away, and that was the last thing you wanted.

You had been this way for as long as you could remember. Desperate to be liked and loved, terribly scared of being left alone or rejected. It was all the same with people you dated and people you befriended, the constant checking that everything was alright and you were still doing good. You had learned the hard way it was too much for some people when your ex had done exactly what you had tried to stop him from doing — abandoning you.

So, you tried to tone it down. You tried to reason with yourself. Frank wasn’t going anywhere. He loved you and cared about you, and if anything, he had baggage, too. You appreciated him regardless, and you knew the feeling was mutual. It was just difficult to convey that message to your brain, the damn thing endlessly feeding you lies and doubt about the foundation of your relationship.

It was just a matter of time. It had to be. Just like everyone else, he’d leave you.

You managed to suffer in silence and cry about your fears in private for a while, but in a sick twist of fate, Frank began pulling away. He thoroughly explained to you his latest mission, told you everything he was going to have to do and how he wanted to keep you safe from his enemies. But it was in one ear and out the other. You smiled and nodded, promised you understood, but it didn’t take you long to start freaking out. This was how it started, the drifting apart, the building distance between you until he’d have to cut his losses and cut you off.

He left at night, which meant that most days you got to enjoy his company, only for your time together to be shadowed by the impending anxiety. And the nights you spent alone, your pillow wet with tears as you wondered when he’d stop returning home. When you woke up in his arms in the morning, you felt comforted and reassured and you swore to yourself you wouldn’t repeat the cycle that night, only to end up breaking your own promise.

A week passed with you slowly stopping eating and sleeping, an unhealthy habit that you were able to hide with Frank being gone. But he wasn’t stupid, and eventually, he picked up on it.

”Make sure you eat somethin’ tonight, aight? That sandwich I made ya was still in the fridge”, Frank commented while packing his bag for the night, shuffling around your apartment whereas you were seated on the couch, watching him bounce from one room to the next.

”I’ll try”, you spoke faintly, a yawn interrupting you, and stopping in his tracks, Frank looked over to you and frowned with his whole face.

”You didn’t sleep much last night, either”, he pointed out, hoping that his observation would be enough for you to open up, but you only gave him a half-hearted shrug in response.

”It’s fine”, you whispered, dropping your stare from Frank’s piercing eyes to your hands as you picked on your nails. You felt like you could throw up any second now, and the walls were closing down on you, inviting panic and terror into your soul. This was your least favorite part of the day and it didn’t seem to get any easier with time, but asking Frank to stay seemed so selfish and obsessive.

Figuring that it wouldn’t do any good to push, Frank nodded and finished packing his duffel bag. Once he was finished, he walked over to you for your nightly kiss on the top of your head, his routine of saying good night and goodbye to you.

But tonight, you just couldn’t help but act on your instincs. As he leaned down to kiss you, you closed your eyes and wrapped a fist around the front of his shirt to hold him close and not let him pull away. When he tried, he was stopped by your vice-like grip, and confused, he looked down at you only to find sheer fear twisted on your face.

”Hey, hey, what’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” he asked with concern, crouching down in front of you, his head tilted so he could catch your eyes. ”Talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here”, he reassured you while lifting his hand to caress your cheek, his thumb catching the stray tear that rolled down from the corner of your eye.

”I don’t want you to go. I’m so scared you won’t come back. I know, I know it’s just a matter of time before you get sick of me or bored of me and leave for good. I’m not good enough for you, I’m not interesting enough, I’m not pretty enough—”, you babbled, all the emotions you had been bottling up inside finally bursting out of you.

”Baby, baby, where’s all this comin’ from? I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Hey, look at me”, he was genuinely surprised, but his voice was firm as he took a hold of your jaw and lifted it so that your eyes could meet. Shakily, you opened your eyes, embarrassed to face him but there was not even a hint of judgment or annoyance in the brown depth of his gaze. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. You’re more than good for me, you’re far more than my miserable ass deserves. And whaddya mean you ain’t interesting? You keep me on my toes all the time. Don’t even get me started on the pretty part, you know I fuckin’ adore you, head to toe”, he raved on, passion behind every word, and you so badly wanted to believe him.

Sniffling, you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. ”I thought that admitting I was scared you’d leave me would just push you away. Or worse, you’d stay with me out of pity”, you admitted quietly, averting your gaze in shame, but Frank was having none of it, and quickly turned your head back to him.

”Oh, sweetheart”, he sighed, pulling you into his embrace, tightly folding his strong arms around you. ”I’m stayin’ with you because I love you. You’re everythin’ to me and I couldn’t do this without you. I’m not tryna belittle your feelings and fears, but I promise, it ain’t gonna come true. I’m stickin’ with you for as long as you’ll have me, I swear on my life, sweet girl”, he vowed while holding you against his chest.

”Do you mean that?” you asked with a wavering voice, ”everyone always leaves me.” Your words broke Frank’s heart, and he wished he could have made you see yourself through his eyes, wished you could have read his mind so that you’d know exactly how he felt about you. He considered himself the luckiest bastard in the world for being able to share a space with you, to kiss you and hold you, and he wasn’t going to walk away from that no matter what.

”Not me. You’ll see. I’m here to stay”, he insisted, pulling back just so he could cradle your head in his large hands and shower your face with quick but sweet kisses, from your forehead to the corner of your eye and from your nose to your jawline.

”Good, ’cause I really love you and it would break me”, you chuckled sadly, unable to fight a smile as Frank peppered your skin with kisses.

”I’m real sorry people haven’t ’preciated you before. But I’mma make sure that head of yours quiets down for a second, yeah? I ain’t gonna let you down”, he confirmed with dedication, and as he gave you a solemn look that was far from joking, you gave in and nodded.

You wanted to believe him, but you both knew it was easier said than done. But Frank wasn’t going to give up — he was going to show you again and again that he was serious about you, that he really was in love with you, and maybe, some day, you would accept that as the simple truth.

[mwahbabe]

Chloe with a pretty stoner gfᵀᴹ 💨

tags: fluff, drug use(duh), gf!chloe gf!reader, hyperfem!reader.

a/n: pretty much a self insert but shhh.

☆️ our chloe loves to engage in the mary j/zaza/ganja/good kush/ this we all know.

☆️ and you being a frequent indulger in such things too as well as her girlfriend duh you two are perfect ^^

☆️ your pink and feminine style clashed with her darker punk and “masc” style is honestly a power couple move.

☆️ she teases you here and there but you’re her girlfriend and she finds the fact you embrace your femininity and feel good in your own skin cool and endearing. plus… you’re hot.

☆️ when yall smoke she’s 100% the type to roll your joints and light it for you as you inhale.

(i know cuz i was there.)

☆️ claiming it’s cause you never do it right but it’s because part of her love language is acts of service.

☆️ teases you about your pretty pink kit set, the pink lighter and hello kitty grinder the cherry rolling papers.

“I don’t get it, I thought hello kitty was for kids-”

“it’s cute, plus your grinder is old as shit chloe.”

“hey! it does the job princess.”

☆️ you always have those strawberry/cherry rolling papers with you.

☆️ chloe tells you they’re a waste of money and pointless

“newsflash babe, the joint is gonna get you high no matter what flavour it is.”

“okay? and they’re yummy.”

☆️ until she tries the pink cherry joint and realises they ain’t that bad after all, and she starts buying them. she’s more of a green apple/cola rolling papers gal though. (they’re delicious.)

☆️ makes fun of your heart bong but ultimately ends up stealing it since hers broke.

“what? i dropped mine.”

☆️ you can never be mad at her for that since she shares her weed with you, it’s only fair.

☆️ the way the both of you message frank is so hilariously different. we’ve seen how she messages frank in bts when she wants to score, but with you it’s:

“hiii can i get come pickup now?”

f: “yea.”

“yayyyy :3”

f: “wtf.”

☆️ chloe has to remind you he’s a drug dealer not a friendly neighbour. but she finds you adorable.

☆️ plus she’s too protective of you and will go and pickup for you instead.

☆️ listens to whatever random shit you say when you’re faded than a hoe. a lot of times she’s not listening though. too focused on how pretty you are with that glazed over expression and giggly mood.

☆️ though it can be the other way around too. sometimes she’ll go on and on about whatever comes to her mind, bouncing from topic to topic to where your fried brain can’t even keep up. and you’re definitely not paying attention. “blah blah blah proper name”

☆️ buys or makes whatever munchies you ask for, since she’s actually not a bad cook since she learnt a few things from joyce.

☆️ pretends to get mad when your lipgloss stains the joint.

☆️ chloe isn’t having none of it when you try and do her makeup while you’re both fried. especially when you try and put lashes on her.

“pleasee? just let me see how they look-“

“not happening princess. i know i told you i had a pirate faze as a kid but i don’t plan on having an eye patch anytime soon.”

☆️ wake n bakes with her every morning.

☆️ chloe can’t escape your grabby hands when she lights up in the morning, even if she wakes up before you, smelling that za you’re up now.

☆️ morning snuggles after a sesh are always happening with her.

☆️ will 100% buy you whatever smoke supplies you want, she can’t say no to you when you bat your lashes at her and point to it in the store. not that she ever would say no to you.

☆️ chloe price is head over heels for you and her stoner ass loves your stoner ass <3

[sethcertified]

「 LEARNED FROM THE MOVIES ! 」 . . . 📂

harry potter : cedric diggory

wrd count : 3.4k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . cedric is hopefully in love with [name], but had been rejected time and time again. when he learns the rom com way (rizz) to winning a person’s heart, he tries it on [name]

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . cedric diggory & male reader

It was hopeless.

That was what Cedric repeated to himself as he laid in the mess he called a bed. It seemed that every time he tried to woo you over, you rejected him! His advances always fell flat no matter how hard he tried.

His countless confessions always ended up with you giving him an awkward smile and saying later; although, by now he knew later would never come.

A frown scorned his face at the sound of the dorm's door creaking open. Cedric turned away from the soft light that poured through the door. He didn't want anyone seeing him; the hero of hufflepuff, so defeated.

"Cedric?" The familiar, feminine tilt of the voice made Cedric turn over to see who was asking for him. There stood Cho Chang; her scarf wrapped around her neck snug with a concerned expression decorating her face.

Cedric knew why she was here, but he couldn't even bother saying anything to the girl. He was hurting too much.

Small steps rang out as they got closer to Cedric's bed until they eventually stopped. A small, gentle hand placed itself on Cedric's shoulder, "Cedric?" Cho's voice was comforting and Cedric finally looked her in the eye; eyes rimmed red.

"Oh, Cedric," Cho cooed. She had never seen Cedric so hurt, but so many rejections do take it's toll at one point. Cedric was her best friend, and to see him so depressed made her heart swell in pity. "It'll be okay. If [Name] can't see that you're an amazing guy; he's dumb.

“Besides, there's ton of other fish in the sea," Cho flashed the heartbroken boy a smile to try to cheer him up, but Cedric's frown deepened.

Cedric sat up from his laid out position, brushing Cho's hand off his shoulder, "I don't want anyone else, Cho. I love him!" Cedric ran his fingers through his mop of brunette locks, "I need him to accept my feelings. I can't live without him."

Cho nodded as she processed Cedric's words.

She knew that he wouldn't accept any other propositions about what to do if it didn't end up with you in his arms. With a purse of her lips, an idea hit her. You loved rom coms! It seemed every other week you would be watching some type of muggle rom com with a love struck look in your eyes in the Ravenclaw common room.

All she needed to do now was to teach Cedric about these romance movies, so he could learn the techniques the male leads used that won your heart!

With an ambitious glint in her dark eyes, Cho took Cedric's hands and dragged him up, ready to show him the way to your heart. As the two stormed off to the Ravenclaw dorm, preparing to go through your DVD collection, they ran into the source of this adventure; you.

Your hands planted against Cedric's chest, balancing yourself before recollecting your composure and observing the two. Cho's hair has developed a bit of frizz, and the usual perfect placement of Cedric's hair was all over the place.

"Cedric! Cho! What are you two doing?" You asked as you awkwardly moved your hands away from Cedric's hard chest to your sides.

Cedric's eyes danced your face, taking in your breathtaking features as his perfect, pink lips spread open in response; leaving his lips agape with no words leaving his mouth. You had that charming yet awkward smile that usually occupied your face, and Cedric's mind had drawn a blank on the excuse he had thought of.

In luck, Cho was able to cover for Cedric who was staring at you, gaping like a fish, "We were actually looking for you!" A grimace placed itself on your face as you remembered how a few hours earlier you had rejected Cedric, and figured that that was the reason they wanted to see you. You turned to the boy with an apologetic expression, "I'm really sorry about earlier. We're good, right?" Cedric nodded dumbly before Cho cut into the conversation,

"Actually, Cedric, here is taking muggle studies, and he is doing a project on muggle movies! I always see you watching them in the common room and thought you might help him!"

Oh!" You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, "Well, I feel kinda stupid now, but, yeah, I can let you borrow some of my movies." You began to waltz off to the dorm as Cho gave Cedric a first pump from behind your back.

Cedric didn't return the enthusiasm; his attention being transfixed on the warmth your hands had left on his robes from the two of you running into each other.

The Ravenclaw dorm hadn't changed from the last time Cedric went in there to hang out with Cho. Everything had stayed the same. Cedric inhaled; getting wafted by the smell of candles, books, and ink. It smelt like you. You disappeared into the boy's dorm before coming out will a tall, leaning stack of DVDs. As you stepped forward toward the pair, the DVDS wobbled, and Cedric rushed to catch them. The tip of his fingers brushed against yours as they leaned against his chest. He sent you a cheesy smile, "That was a close one."

You nodded in agreement and moved to set the stack of movies on the tabletop. Cedric dawned a small frown at the feeling of your fingers leaving his, but quickly covered it when you turned back around to the two, "Well, here's my collection! What kind of movies are you looking for?”

Cedric stayed silent until Cho elbowed him, "Ow!" He gritted his teeth as he held his hip in pain, "Uh, Romance movies?"

Your eyes practically sparkled at the mention as you smiled like a just won the lottery and quickly sprung into a ramble, “I love romance movies! Everybody makes fun of me for liking them as much as I do with me being a guy and all, but who says guys can't like romance movies? They're always like, 'That's gay; and I'm like, 'Guess what? I am, so fuck off; but still, it is so exhausting." The glow in your eyes died down as you remembered the interaction which Cedric took immediate notice to. He placed his hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, "Well, if you ever want some company or someone to talk to about romance movies; l'm here."

Your eyes softened and the sparkle in your eye came back. You couldn't help but feel bad for never giving Cedric a chance. Sure, he was every students' dream guy with his tall, muscular body, dreamy eyes, and perfect, honeycomb eyes, but you didn't know him enough to ever consider him as a romantic option. The voice in your head that had so far been screaming at you to get away from Cedric was quiet, and you couldn't help but start to understand why everyone loved Cedric.

Cho stood to the side as she watched the two of you gaze into each others eyes like the other had hung the moon and smiled to herself. Her job here was down, and she turned away with lithe steps in the direction of the girls dorm room; planning to tell all her friends about her matchmaker activities with Hufflepuffs' golden boy and Ravenclaws' certified filmbro.

Cedric caught Cho's departure in his peripheral vision and tried to fight the urge drag her back.

What kind of wingwoman ditches mid-seduction? Your gaze followed to where Cedric's was glaring at and found that Cho had left, "Oh, Cho left. Did she have to go somewhere?"

Cedric forced a smile as he cursed at Cho internally, "Yeah, had a... thing to do in the library." You nodded and turned to your pile, trying to brush off the feelings that had overcame you while looking in Cedric's eyes.

Said boy was peering over your shoulder as you separated the movies into two piles. His brows furrowed trying to figure out how you were deciding which one you were giving him, and how he would manage to make you fall for him with them. He tapped your shoulder, "How are you separating them?"

"I'm giving you my favorite romance movies," you pointed at the huge stack, "That's all of my movies including the ones l'm giving you, so I gotta sort them out." Cedric nodded his head but wanted to keep talking to you, "Which ones are your favorites? I want to hear your thoughts on them for my project." He would pat himself on the shoulder if he could. That was one good lie.

You could feel yourself about to spring off into a ramble and scolded yourself internally. Most people shunned you for your rambles, but for some reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt comfortable enough with Cedric to let go of your embarrassment about rambling, “Well, that’s a tough question,” you chuckled nervously, “I would say 10 Things I Hate About You, The Notebook, and Flipped.”

Your fingers clenched the new found DVD of 10 Things I Hate About You, “This one is just so fun to watch, you know? My favorite scene is when the main guy, Patrick, is singing infront of everyone during her soccer practice just to apologize to her. It’s so sweet.”

Cedric felt himself fall for you even more as your eyes glowed with love, “That’s what I love about romance movies! The guys are always so devoted to proving their love. In The Notebook, he writes her a love letter everyday for a year.”

You spun around back to your collection, scouring for the other two movies. Your hand grasped the DVD for Flipped and you handed it to Cedric, “In this one, he plants a tree for her because the one she loved got cut down.” Your hands filtered through the pile as you searched for The Notebook before finally finding it, “Well, that’s all of them. I hope your project does well.”

Cedric traced the spine of the movies as he nodded nervously but with a goal set in place in his heart. If he could show you that he loved you by doing those things, you might just finally accept his feelings. He gave you a quick, "Thank you" before leaving you and preparing for the journey up ahead.

╰┈➤

It had taken a few try's but Cedric had figured out how to play the movies you had given him. He sat in-front of the movie that was starting with a journal and pencil in hand. The first movie was, The Notebook; and Cedric was ultra-focused on it. He remembered how you spoke so highly of the letters Noah had written Allie, and looked at the crisp, lined-sheet of paper. The quill that rested in between his fingers felt like a testament to his love for you. All he had to do know was write you something that would take your breath away.

Cedric's quill danced along the paper in swirls and loops as cursive took over the page. He wanted to make the letter look nice for you. His fingers were clenching the quill so hard to the point pain shot out of his finger tips. Cedric ignored the pain in his fingers as his letter neared to an end.

Cedric's fingers burned red as he dropped the quill onto his bed. His eyes scanned the now finished letter over and over; trying to guarantee it was perfect before he sent it off to you. With a pleased smile, Cedric set off to the owlery for you to open the letter tomorrow during breakfast.

And before he knew it, breakfast had arrived.

Cedric's eyes were latched onto you as he played around with the food on his plate anxiously. Cho sat next to you, sparing glances at Cedric every so often. Cedric had told Cho about what would happen during breakfast, and she was scouting your reaction for him.

The owls swept into the dining hall in unison, and Cedric felt his chest swell with anxiety. It wasn't exactly anonymous with the timing of it all, and knowing your brains, it wouldn't be difficult for you to figure out it was Cedric who wrote the letter; in fact, it wouldn't be difficult at all.

Your owl dropped the rolled up piece of paper onto your empty plate as it flew over your head.

Cedric had tied the paper together with a [favorite color] ribbon for more appeal, and so he could pin point that it was his letter you were opening.

He watched as your fingers delicately untied the ribbon. The letter unraveled and you began to read the heartfelt words pour out onto the paper:

"Dear [Name],

There are many things I would like to say to you, but there's only so much room on a piece of paper. That doesn't mean I didn't try though!

You are everything I have ever wanted and so much more.

Whether it's your smile or your sense of humor or your desire to please everyone around you; you have made me fall for you. And trust me when I say; I fell hard.

I didn't know what loving someone meant until I met you. I've had crushes in the past, but none of them have made me feel the way you do. You make me feel like I'm the greatest wizard in the world, and I will never be able to thank you enough for that.

I'm running out of paper, so l'll make this quick:

I love you.

Always yours..

Your eyes lifted off the paper and flickered to where Cedric sat. It was a quick glance, but it made Cedric's heart race in an emotion between hopefulness and nervousness he couldn't quite discern.

Cho's squeals rang in your ears as your mind raced. Of course you knew it was Cedric who had written the letter. The timing couldn't have been a coincidence, yet that feeling of refusal that usually swept through you when Cedric made his advances wasn't there this time. It shocked you, but you couldn't ignore the blossoming feeling in your heart.

You were falling for Cedric Diggory.

Your eyes flickered back to where the boy sat at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was gazing at you with that look in his eyes he usually held when he confessed his feelings for you, and you couldn't help the soft, tight lipped smile that stretched across your face at the sight.

If this meant what you thought it did than you were more than enthusiastic for what was to come.

╰┈➤

Game day was always nerve-wracking for Cedric. The whole of Hufflepuff depended on him to make them proud, but today only one person's opinion mattered to him; yours.

The second movie you had given him was 10 Things I Hate About You, and now it was time for him to recreate the iconic scene you said you loved.

The mic shook in his hand as he waltzed out onto the stands. Everyone was there with rumors spreading about Cedric doing something special, and Cho had guaranteed you were there too. With a shaky breath, Cedric walked out onto the stadium as the steady instrumental of 'Can't Take My Eyes Off of You' began to play.

He closed his eyes as the words of the song poured out of his mouth. Cedric was by no means a good singer, but if this is what it took to get you in his arms, he would sing for the rest of his life. Cheers followed his movements as he pointed at where you sat. You were covering your face with your hand, but your eyes were crinkled in joy.

The words flowed out easier as Cedric's eyes stayed focused on you instead of the hoard of students watching him. His movements became more relaxed as he danced around on the stadium's seats before sitting among the crowds as the chorus came to an end. Cheers drowned out the stadium hurting both your and Cedric's ears. Cho pushed your hand away from your face revealing the big toothy grin that had taken over the lower half of your face. It was the happiest Cedric had ever seen you before and he mirrored your smile.

Teachers were rushing toward where Cedric sat amongst the crowd, but he could've cared less for the scowls on their faces and the strides they took toward him. Stage 2 was a success, and Cedric couldn't help the tsunami of hope washing over him that after stage 3, you would finally be his boyfriend after all these years of trying.

Unbeknownst to Cedric, his hope wasn't too far off. The letters he had been sending you since that day in the great hall sat under your bed in a beautifully decorated box you had made specifically for them, and your face held a certain warmth as you watched the teachers pull the boy by his arms away from the crowd.

You were in love with Cedric Diggory.

╰┈➤

The wind blew in your hair as you stood in the middle of the green, newly-cut grass field behind Hogwarts. In the letter you had been given today from a certain Hufflepuff boy, a riddle had directed you to where you now stood. Suspicions of what could be going on had racked your brain since you received today's letter from Cedric. The third movie you had given Cedric was Flipped, and if he continued his current pattern, he would be planting a tree right here for you.

Your fingers twitched against your leg as you searched the area for Cedric. You considered yourself a patient person, but at the moment, all the patience you once had was gone.

To your relief, Cedric was walking toward you; his fist clenched by his side. A seed rested in his palm. He had taken the proper precautions for planting the seed earlier before your letter was delivered, and now was the time.

The sound of footsteps coming toward you caused you to turn around. Cedric walked toward you as you waved at him with a dorky smile, "Hi."

"Hi." Cedric cleared his throat awkwardly, catching your attention, "| guess you already know why I'm here, but, uh, here I am anyways.

And I'm sure you already know what is going on His voice shook as he continued, "I have loved you since the moment I saw you, and I know you wouldn't let me show it, but I couldn't let that stop me. I know that in the past you've rejected me and you might now, but I need to do this."

You nodded as Cedric opened his fist to reveal the dark, small seed that rested against his palm, "| want to be with you. I want to keep writing love letters to you, and doing embarrassing things just to make you smile even if it means I get detention. If- if you'd like that, please take this seed."

Your eyes fell onto the seed as your hand reached out to take it, “I'd like that. I'd like that a a lot actually.” You took the seed out of his hand; examining it, "I must say, Diggory, you really know how to win a guy's heart."

Cedric laughed as he took you in his arms relief taking over him, "I learned from the best."

"True." you added with a small giggle, "I do want my movies back though."

"No way." Cedric joked as he shook his head, "| like them too much now to give them back."

"Don't press your luck, Diggory. l've rejected you before, and I can reject you again" You playfully glared at the boy who was just grinning at you as giddy as ever, "Okay! Fine! We can share."

Cedric smiled against the top of your head as daydreams of laying with you took over his mind while the two of you watched one of your many rom coms.

"We really should plant this tree now." you whispered.

"Yeah, we should"

The two of you separated away from the hug as you bent down to the freshly dug hole in the ground. Cedric's hand cupped yours as you placed the seed into the hole, his fingers interlocking with yours, "I love you"

"I love you too."

Cedric couldn't help but kiss you like he had dreamed of doing all these years. It was as heavenly as he had imagined, and couldn't help but thank the movies that had helped him win you over and into his arms.

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( （ 𖦹◞◟） 👖˖ ♪

©️ sethcertified 2023

[dawn-moths]

Hello how are you can I request Ronald with at frist shy looking and inocennt s/o,but she is actually really nasty and freaky and like some smut in there to i would be most thankfull i love your blog,lots of love😘😘

hello!! |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ

i hope you like what i came up with. enjoy!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ronald Knox x Female Reader

word count: 4,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, reader is described as being/dressing feminine, reader is called “good girl, baby” and referred to as "princess", the nickname “daddy” is used for Ron, sub/dom dynamics, size difference, finger sucking, reader is carried, minimal prep, masochist reader, rough sex, biting, choking, hair pulling, nipple play, cock warming, aftercare.

***

It always starts this way, it seems.

What begins as otherwise harmless kissing quickly evolves into something much more explicit. Much more obscene.

Because, just before things start to get a little more heated, you find yourself straddling Ron’s lap, your mouth hovering over his as you both breathe in each other’s air, panting like dogs left out in the afternoon heat.

You, his precious baby with the face of an angel and the mind of a little devil only he’s allowed to know.

You, his own personal little porn star.

And you’re shameless. Eager. So enticing that it takes every ounce of will he has not to just hook his thumbs into the waistband of those pretty lace panties he knows you love to wear and tear them to shreds, to push you back and pin you down to the couch and fuck you until there’s tears in your eyes and your voice has gone raspy and raw from all the sounds of pleasure he’s forced from your throat.

You, his shy little sex kitten, always teasing him in those skirts that are just a little too short, those necklines that are just a little too low, your body’s soft curves the kind that the ancient Greeks used to sculpt statues of, chipping away at cold marble until a woman was found somewhere among the jagged rock. Reverent. Ethereal. Sacred.

Only for him.

Only, you do feel a little bit of shame, if you were being completely honest with yourself. It makes itself known in the way your cheeks heat, in the way your blood goes icy-hot with embarrassment at how you must look like this. How debauched and needy and on your way to no doubt becoming a complete and utter mess by the time this session is over.

But that’s the thing about you.

The more shy you acted now, the more desperate and dirty you’d be for him later.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Ron asked with one of those soft, charming grins spreading across his spit-shined lips, his voice low and soothing. He gently gripped your chin between his fingers and turned your face, which you’d momentarily tried to hide by nuzzling it into your shoulder, back up towards him, coaxing your nervous gaze to follow. “What is it?” he further questioned, though with a lilt of an amused chuckle laced into his hushed tone. “Things movin’ a little too fast for ya?”

In response, all you could manage was a squeak and another attempt to retreat and hide your shy little expressions from him again, but he was faster that time and caught you before you could really escape. When his smile refused to falter you knew he wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“No, no, no,” he said, tone woven with mischievous mirth. “Don’t hide…” Then, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, his lips nearly brushing the shell of it as his warm breath wafted against your neck, he murmured, “Seeing you get all flustered is one of my favorite parts…”

Ron knew that your whole sweet-and-innocent act was merely a mask to cover what you both knew was really true about you. And that was the undeniable fact that you were quite the little masochist. You liked it when he got rough with you. Left you a trembling mess by the end of the night after covering you in the shape of his bite and several shades of bruises from the press of his fingertips.

But, even so, it wasn’t like that shyer side of you was entirely fake, either.

Your innocence, whether it was surface level or not, was one of the things that had drawn Ron towards you in the first place, after all. Because who didn’t love a girl who seemed like a little darling on the outside only to discover what a little devil she was hiding underneath all those coy smiles and cute little dresses and lacy lingerie.

Your tender sweetness also happened to pair well with Ron’s proclivity to tease.

“Don’t be mean…” you whined, the corners of your mouth pulling down into one of those adorable little pouts Ron loved to be the cause of.

At this, Ron merely let out another one of those low, borderline sinister chuckles under his breath. He placed both his hands on your hips, readjusted your position over his lap to spread your thighs a little further, pulling where you were no doubt becoming more sensitive and needy down to brush against where his own arousal was growing from under his trousers.

Upon feeling him rubbing against your core you couldn’t help but let out a helpless little whimper, the first flare of impatient need coming to life inside of you.

“Y’know…” Ron reminded you, reveling in every little wiggle or squirm he felt wrack through your body as he pressed you even closer against him, “if you just tell Daddy what you want, it’ll be a whole lot easier for him to give it to you…”

You were shy…

Until you weren’t.

“I want…” you began, voice a shaky little plea. “I want your fingers in my mouth, Daddy…”

The request came out as more whisper than words, your head feeling dizzy from the rush of blood that raced upward to burn from your chest to the tips of your ears even hotter than before, the embarrassment almost enough to cancel out your eagerness, though not quite.

“Oh yeah?” Ron taunted, a slight growl to his voice now as he felt his own desires threaten to spill over the edge, the arousal welling to the brim within him from the thought of it alone. “Well then…” He pressed the pad of his thumb to the plush of your lower lip, gently pulling down to coax your sweet little mouth open wider for him. “Guess I have no choice but to deliver on what my baby needs…”

Slipping one of his long, slender fingers along the slick warmth of your tongue, then two, feeling you sucking the digits down further until they disappeared all the way up to the seam of his palm, your throat bobbing as the tips of his fingers brushed against the back of your gag reflex, Ron couldn’t help but gulp as well, trying to keep his composure the best he could.

“God, baby…” he sighed, as if in prayer. You curled your tongue around him, coating his fingers further in your thick saliva, at which point Ron slowly pulled them free, dragging them flat across your tongue and shuddering at the thought of how your mouth would feel encasing other parts of his body, before wiping some of your spit across your kiss-swollen lips.

The more disheveled or dirty you became, the more beautiful Ron thought you were.

“Daddy…?” you asked, that syrupy shyness drizzled back over the word like you were still his innocent little angel causing his cock to twitch in his pants. You didn’t miss the way he was beginning to shift and squirm as well, likely just as impatient as you now, if not more so. “Do you wanna…?” You glanced over your shoulder at where the bedroom door was open just a crack, as if trying to tempt you with the promise of what lay inside.

Ron followed your line of sight, glancing back to you when you turned to meet his emerald gaze again. A smirk fissured across his boyishly handsome features, his own little demon stirring back to life.

He nudged your nose with his, hummed out a melodic note of affirmation, and then, the next thing you knew, he was hoisting you up to carry you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his big palms cushioned the backs of your soft thighs, the silky flesh spilling between his strong grip.

He nudged open the door with his foot before swinging it closed in the same manner, not wasting a second before he had you lying back on the bed, pinned beneath him like a rare butterfly he’d worked hard to collect and had no intention of letting go.

Grabbing up both your wrists in one of his fists, Ron used his free hand to begin pushing your skirt up around your waist, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and rising a wave of chills over you, taking a moment to knead you there as you gently writhed under his hold, trying to squeeze your legs together to create even just a little bit of friction for yourself. But Ron recognized instantly what you were trying to do and coaxed your legs back apart, wanting to be the one to get you worked up himself.

You knew your panties must be soaked by now, the expensive lace likely ruined just from his teasing alone, but it wasn’t until he slipped two of his lithe fingers in through the side to glide through your delicate, drenched folds that you truly realized just what a mess you really were.

Ron let out an amused, prideful breath of a laugh. “So wet for me…” he half praised, half teased, applying pressure to your throbbing clit, making a gasp and one of those delectable little whines escape from your throat. “Just like that…” he said, rubbing skillful circles against the tender, swollen little bud. “So good for me,” he cood. “Always such a good girl…”

He let go of your wrists to use both hands to begin removing the ruined lace from you, encouraging you to help him in discarding it along with your skirt, and once you were left bare below the waist for him, Ron took a moment to admire you like that, all spread and vulnerable for his eyes only.

“So beautiful, baby…” he sighed, entranced. “You’re perfect…”

Ron thought you had the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen, all pink and glistening like the dewy petals of a rose, but he knew that the sight of it was nothing compared to how it felt squeezing around his cock. It was a sensation he was addicted to. Just the mere memory of your most recent time together was enough to make him feel like he could lose all control, becoming more desperate to satisfy his desire by the minute.

Lucky for him though, he knew you liked it rough, so if he didn’t take the full time needed to prep you, you wouldn’t necessarily hold it against him.

You both were still half clothed, and the humidity of the room and the body heat being exchanged between you two was near stifling. You needed the rest of your clothes off soon or else you’d become so hot and frazzled you’d hardly be able to think. Not that you needed to when in Ron’s hands. He already knew what you wanted, what you liked, though, lucky for you, he also wanted the rest of your clothing off.

“Arms up,” Ron told you, already gathering the hem of your top in his hands, halfway to tugging it up your chest, eyes unable to help but catch on the sight of the pretty matching bra that currently cradled your breasts. You obeyed without hesitation and soon found yourself fully exposed, the room now feeling a few degrees cooler.

Ron began hastily unbuckling his belt, the strain of his erection having grown painful with how hard it was trying to free itself from his trousers. He quickly discarded the remainder of his clothing, biting back a groan as he took his pulsing length in his hand, though couldn’t stop the punched out, “Fuck—” that escaped his lips when he slid it between the silky petals of your dewy folds, gathering more of your slick before lining himself up with your tight little entrance.

You wanted him to take his time, allow you to feel every vein and ridge of him, but for as much as Ron usually indulged you, it seemed that tonight time was going to have to wait.

“Now be a good girl for me,” he instructed, already sounding halfway to being out of breath, “and hold still for Daddy—”

With his hands gripping your hips hard enough for bruises to bloom beneath his fingers and one quick, harsh thrust, Ron buried himself down to the hilt inside of you. You let out a broken cry, head thrown back and neck craning as you felt yourself suddenly split by the familiar aching pleasure his cock provided.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much.

But you fucking loved it.

“That’s it, baby…” Ron panted, hunching over you while you both took a moment to adjust to each other’s bodies. “Good girl… Always so good at taking my cock…”

He was peppering chaste little kisses along your temple and jaw, a feeble attempt to distract you from the stringing stretch he’d just forced your body to endure as well as an apology for the soreness he knew you’d feel tomorrow because of it, a thin sheen of sweat already beginning to break out over the both of you.

But soon, all you could focus on was the slow drip of euphoria that was on its way to taking over your brain, some of the pain numbing as it gave way to pleasure.

When Ron first began moving, it was slow and rhythmic, all prior rush gone from his intentions. But the more your cunt clenched around him, the more erratic he seemed to become, hips stuttering in their motions as he struggled to keep a consistent rhythm. And by the time you were whimpering out a pathetic little, “Choke me,” well…

Ron just about lost it.

One hand rested over the delicate curve of your throat, Ron wanting to feel the hammering of your pulse for a moment before he cut off your air supply. Your eyes glittered up at him through the low light, so much love and trust and dangerous desire all wrapped up in your gaze. He held you in suspense for a moment, waiting until the frantic rise and fall of your chest slowed to something much steadier and controlled. Then, after you took your next inhale, his grip tightened, squeezing around your neck and making your eyes roll when you realized, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

Not unless he allowed you to.

Ron kept careful count of the time going by though, knowing your limits, having committed them to memory, and when you first gave his wrist a tap he knew you were backing out prematurely. When he refused your first request, he felt your pussy flutter around him, the adrenaline on the verge of surging through you and breaking away into panic. Your vision started to blur and you tapped again, and that time, Ron obliged.

You sucked in a gasp of air, panting in shorter, more panicked breaths for a moment while his hand still rested over your throat as he admired you like that.

He’d ruin you and you’d gladly let him.

But something then seemed to occur to him as his fingers traced down to the line of your collarbones and the supple flesh of your breasts.

Those perked little nipples of yours were looking awfully neglected. And what kind of boyfriend would Ron be if he let that stand?

You let out a squeak when his mouth found the first pebbled bud, being gentle at first, teasing you with his lips and tongue until you were arching your back to push further into the wet warmth of his mouth. Ron had to hold your hips down as you began to squirm, wanting to feel every little shiver, tremble, and twitch your body made as he granted you more pleasure, each reaction felt as your cunt massaged his girth to varying degrees.

As his mouth tended to one side, his fingers took care of the other, only switching when he felt like your reactions became less intense. You were so sensitive everywhere he touched you, it seemed, so delicate to his ministrations, he could play you like a harp. And, in return, you’d make the most beautiful, melodic music for him as his fingers pulled at your strings, your moans the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

But once your stomach started clenching in rapid succession, Ron knew he had to take a short intermission on this song you two were composing together. Just long enough to ensure you made it through to the encore, at least.

Lifting one of your legs, Ron threw it over one of his freckled shoulders to spread you even wider for him, sinking in so deep you swore you could feel him in your tummy, the mere implication making another rolling wave of arousal course through you and causing Ron to breathe out another one of those helpless, stuttering curses. His muscles clench as he rolls his hips in to meet yours, back to being slow and controlled.

But you needed more.

You needed it rougher.

“Harder…” you pleaded, breathless and wanting. 

Ron readjusted the both of you, once again taking your wrists in his grip and pinning them both beside your head, something to anchor you down for what came next, but you coaxed him to let you lock your fingers with his. It feels more intimate his way, and already knowing how rough he can get when you ask for it you feel better knowing that this simple act of handholding will help to balance out the consequences of his strength.

Ron starts to pick up speed, each time pulling almost all the way out before spearing his cock back into you, likely hard enough to ensure he was going to have to take care of you all day tomorrow, his poor little baby too sore and raw to even get out of bed on her own. 

But that’s ok.

That’s what he’s here for, after all.

His glasses begin to fog and his breathing is reduced to shallow panting, the shimmering veil of sweat that covers you both thickening under the growing humidity emanating from your bodies.

When the next request to roll off your tongue is a slurred whine of, “Bite me, Daddy…” Ron doesn’t hesitate that time. He lets go of your wrists, leans down and sinks his teeth into the tender spot between your neck and shoulder, letting out a desperate whine of his own when you followed up with a pained, shuddering exhale of, “Harder​​—”

You let out a yelp as you thrash beneath him, Ron increasing the pressure until the skin breaks and he tastes blood. But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. Because your trembling little hands have formed tight fists in his strawberry blonde locks, pulling so hard at the roots that his scalp prickles with sharp, staticky pain. Just when it was becoming too much, you yanked his head back hard enough that he takes the cue to unlatch his bite from your flesh, pink-tinted strands of saliva keeping his mouth connected to the new wound he’s gifted you for a moment before he created enough distance to have them break.

You were both panting and shaking, like two animals on the verge of death, and when he saw the vicious red indents carved out in the shape of his mouth, saw the blood that was trying to well in the deepest parts of the injury where his incisors had pierced straight through, Ron felt a small sense of dread for a moment. Because, as much as this has become to be expected between the two of you sometimes, he couldn’t help but fear he might go too far. That he might hurt you for real, in a way you wouldn’t get some sick sense of pleasure from, and that you’d stare up at him with fear instead of love.

But, looking down at you now, all he can seem to find as he searches your gaze is that beautiful, tender adoration that he’s pretty sure he would die without at this point.

But now it was time to finish this.

You were both close to the edge.

Ron preferred when you fell together.

Once again, his motions become rhythmic and savoring, ever the master of the push and pull between control and carnality, though kept up the speed needed to match each other’s oncoming orgasms.

He’d come to know your body so well, how it reacted and responded to his, that the moment he felt your stomach return to its rapid fluttering, like a little bird taking flight, legs tensing as your cunt constricted around his cock harder than before, he knew you were mere seconds away from coming undone. After three more thrusts, he’s right there with you, spilling his balmy warmth into your tight wet heat as you gush your glistening arousal all over his cock, both of you making a mess of each other in tandem before all that heady tension begins to slowly bleed away, leaving the both of you to fall slack and satisfied, the air heavy with the scent of your unrestricted love.

But Ron doesn’t pull out just yet. He likes to feel the aftershocks, the way your pussy flutters weakly around him as he goes soft, both of your combined juices drooling out of your abused little hole and staining the bedsheets below while your bodies are still one.

Once some of his senses returned to him, Ron carefully pulled out, bringing a trail of cum along with his blushing cock, and scooped you up in his arms so you could lay draped across his damp chest, his hair a tangled, tousled mess and his glasses smudged, yet something about him being disheveled like that only added to his charm.

He liked to let you doze off, if you wanted to, gently stroking your arm or your back or your hip with one hand while your eyelids became increasingly heavier until they had no choice but to fall closed, allowing him to tend to you once you’d fallen asleep. But when his fingers lightly traced along your shoulder and you winced, sucking in a small, sharp hiss, Ron remembered the mark he left there, the blood having rusted over to glaze the wound closed, but only just barely. Now that some of the adrenaline had worn off, he knew you must feel the sting, all the cuts and bruises he’s caused you flaring back to life and pulsing with the aftermath of the pain.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he whispers to you as he carefully shifts you over to lay your heavy head on the pillow, venturing into the bathroom to gather all the things he needs to help nurse some of those wounds born from the heat of the moment.

You wait patiently for him to return, blinking open half-lidded eyes to gaze up at him as he reclaimed his seat on the edge of the bed. He praises you as he cleans the bite, tells you what a good girl you were for him, how brave you are when he dabs some disinfectant on the imprint of his teeth and you barely even whimper at the sting of the salve. He looks over your neck, the bruises darkening, and asks you if it still hurts. You shake your head, say you can barely even feel that one, and he hums out a note that alludes to being pleased, but also hints at something secretly prideful as well.

Because who would’ve been able to guess what a high tolerance for pain his perfect little princess hid so skillfully from those around her, a dirty, sinful little secret concealed beneath cute, flouncy little outfits and pretty hair and glossy lips.

But, the best part, it was a tolerance only Ron got to test.

A standard he got to help create.

“I know it hurts, baby…” Ron murmurs as he carefully cleans your sore little hole with a warm washcloth, gently dragging it through your folds to collect all the cum that’s begun to glaze over your skin and harden into salty crystals. “But you’re being so good. Almost done…”

Once he’d dressed you in one of his oversized t-shirts and placed a goodnight kiss to your forehead, Ron tucked you in under a clean blanket and returned to the bathroom to take care of his own mess. He tried to make it quick, knowing there’s a good chance you’d already be asleep before he’s able to curl up next to you, but when he returns and you’re still awake, he can’t help but give you another one of those soft smiles.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he kindly reminded you, though he’s glad you did.

When his chest is pressed to your back, his warm arms wrapped around your middle, you unexpectedly shift to turn and face him. He considered you with a slightly puzzled glance, but then you were leaning forward to press your lips to his, your tongue teasing at one corner of his mouth before pulling back.

“There was a little blood,” you told him, those adorable doe-eyes of yours that could just about hypnotize him glittering in the dark, “but I got it…”

Ron sighed out a tired chuckle through his nose as he tugged you in closer to his chest, letting you get comfortable as you found the right angle to intertwine your legs.

“Night, baby,” he cooed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” you replied, already sounding halfway to a dream.

And, as if he ever needed a reminder, Ron falls asleep feeling like the luckiest man alive.

Lucky, because he’s the only one in the entire world who gets to call you his.

[gatorbites-imagines]

hi !! could i maybe get some rex splode x gnc trans male reader stuff, if you’re cool with that !! maybe smth abt the reader getting misgendered for wearing clothes they feel more comfortable with and rex stepping in to defend them :o thank you sm !!

Rex Sloan/Rex splode x ftm reader

Headcanons

Rex wasn’t the best guy up until getting shot in the second season, but that wouldn’t matter if you guys were dating, except for the fact that he would apologize to you and try his hardest to be a better boyfriend.

He might have misgendered you on accident the very first time you guys met, but when you corrected him that didn’t happen again. He might have been a dick sometimes, but he isn’t a bigot.

I like to think Rex is secretly into fashion at a low level, since he’s into stuff like decorating. So, he would be excited to help you plan your outfits.

Since he is a government experiment, he wouldn’t have that deeply ingrained image of gender either, so he wouldn’t care too much about you, your gender, or your way of expressing yourself.

In the beginning he wouldn’t be into wearing anything feminine himself though, since he’s quite insecure and unsure about himself and the image he puts off. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t support you.

His insecurity would have crossed over to how people treat you though. Since disrespecting you is also disrespecting him, but also because he loves you and doesn’t want you getting mistreated.

This leads to him getting into fights, both verbal and physical, since how dare they treat you like that? Who the fuck do they think they are? They can taste his damn explosions if they’re gonna keep that shit up.

In the beginning his acts of defending you can be quite a lot, since he takes peoples comments more personal that you do. To the point where he might even get snippy with people who do it on accident even if they correct themselves immediately after being informed.

But after getting shot in the head and rethinking a lot about himself, Rex would become better at dealing with himself, his emotions and his reactions.

This not only leads to him being a better boyfriend in general, but also not reacting so quick to violence and anger if somebody says the wrong thing or looks at you wrong. He still keeps a sharp eye on people though, especially when you are dressing the ways you prefer.

Where in the past Rex would make a loud scene, after the bullet he would be more lowkey. And by that, I mean, pull the person to the side or just quietly tell them that if they don’t stop nobody would be able to find the pieces of their body after he blew them up.

Of course he doesn’t always end up using threats of death, but that’s mainly because he knows you wouldn’t like it. to Rex, being transphobic on purpose deserves it, but since it wouldn’t be what you and others wanted, he would keep it as a last defense. Or at least wait for no one else to be around.

He makes sure to check up on you afterwards too. Rex would try to be subtle, but he isn’t really the most subtle guy. So, when he’s trying to see if your okay and affirm your gender, he says something like “you know you’re the most handsome guy I know, right?”

After understanding himself better, he might even get the interest in trying to wear different things. At this point I can’t imagine him wearing it in public, but when he’s alone or together with you, he might put on a few different things to see how he feels.

Rex always gets embarrassed about it though, especially if you comment about it, even if it’s telling him it looks good. So your best bet is to not mention it until he brings it up himself.

[pianocat939]

…

(I ended up studying for like 5 hours today on foreign language idk why, but yeah- I’ll try to get a request done. And start on Ch. 1 of monster series)

I make way too many alternates but…

Just listen.

Mean girl Donnie.

Tw: implied/explicit threatening, implied bribery maybe?, very disorganized thoughts, blackmailing, controlling behaviour, degradation, please read with caution just cuz’ the relationship is pretty toxic…in a controlling way

Like not the popularized, blonde and have a group kind of mean girl-

I mean like…

Super smart and super rich Mean girl Donnie.

He’s on the way to valedictorian, (and will be). He has a lot of power within the school, whether it’s being leader of multiple clubs or a student president.

He’s super fucking rich. (Somehow…) He’s wearing Dior, Prada, Saint Laurent, Swarovski, Burberry- Anything you can imagine of luxury.

He never looks bad. Ever. He’s always looking perfect. He could be wearing a really dashing purple suit and loafers one day. And another day be wearing hot pink and white sweater and skirt- like he wears all kinds of clothes. But he never looks bad.

He doesn’t have a minion group. He solely believes in his independence. [His brothers…he doesn’t put much notice on them, he’s a more notable being]

Let’s say MC is like. Just there. Not unpopular or popular…just there.

Their life is pretty mundane until they accidentally bump into Donnie while he was fixing his- idk lipstick or eyebrows- causing it to go wild on his face.

He’s immediately offended, confronting them why they have the audacity to ruin his perfect makeup/brows.

[his appearance (feminine or masculine) changes every day so either situation works]

MC ends up getting a life of hell from then on.

Wether they’re accused by teachers for no reason, or wondering why their friends or more on edge when talking to them. Their school life isn’t exactly hell…but isn’t great either.

At some point, they can’t tolerate it and ask Donnie what he did. Only to end up unraveling a horror story of a dictator.

He’s blackmailing them, threatening that he’ll expose it to everyone, and anything. (MC didn’t even do such a thing, he just managed to fake it).

Poor MC can’t help but accept his deal by being his “minion” for the next month.

In the morning, MC has to basically chauffeur Donnie to school, in a flashy ass Bugatti.

They have to carry all his stuff, and follow him around. They can’t go through their normal schedule, they have to follow his.

They have to participate at all his extracurricular events, meetings, whatever.

.

.

.

Until a few weeks later, the things they have to do change.

They have to wear the clothes he’s picked out for them on whatever day. [it’s always matching in colour or style with his]

They have to call him any form of endearments he wants. And gets pissed if they don’t.

[Now I know he isn’t for physical touch, but for the sake of the alternate bear with me]

On days he wears lipstick, he covers them in kisses on their face, staining their cheeks all over. And they can’t take it off, because of his annoyance. So the entire school knows.

They have to follow EXACTLY the same schedule as him, even outside of school. Like…maybe not doing the exact same thing, but waking up, sleeping, and all like the daily things have to be aligned with his.

They have to call him every night and talk with him…keep him company. (Which MC soon realizes Donnie actually thinks of MC as a significant other, just in a controlling way.) He gets quite lovey-dovey during the midnight calls.

“MC…you’re the only person I like touching at all~ I mean…you look so stupid walking around covered in my lipstick stains hihi~…”

They sleep over at his house every weekend- they’re just basically incorporated into his life.

…

By the end of the month, the entire school just considers MC as Donnie’s lover…and MC can’t deny the title no matter what. The school believes Donnie more than MC.

——————————————————

(This brain rot turned out a lot longer than I thought oops-)

You know, we got rich mean girl Donnie,

How about Dumb Pink Squad Leo? Like, the actual stereotypical mean girls.

- Celina

(I need help from my thoughts lmao)