#this one was a bit rushed sorry about that!

[1d1195]

Chances

~5k words

From Me: It's been about 2 minutes since my last love at first sight story so I figured that was long enough for another one. Just a silly little thing.

Warnings: A tiny bit of smut. Also she's shorter than Harry (only relevant for 20 seconds, max). Other than that, should be fluff fluff fluff.

Summary: Airports are gross, overpriced, and extremely anxiety-inducing. She hates being there.

But it's also where she sits with a really cute guy who makes her feel like she's flying from the moment she looks at him and before takeoff even begins.

What was it about airports that were so romantic? Everyone knew how gross they were. A petri dish of diseases on every surface. Overpriced food and drinks. Not to mention the exorbitant price of books and magazines. Almost everyone passing through was stressed with worry about missing their flight, losing their bag, losing their kid, or personal items. She was one of them. Even with an hour and half cushion she was worried it would take off or something while she was going to get a coffee.

Which was perhaps why she didn’t notice where she chose to sit at her gate. All that anxiety festering and building in her that only the relief of flopping into one of the seats near an outlet would release. She put her coffee in the little cup holder, tucked her bag beneath her feet and placed the overpriced book on her lap.

Someone called out for another person making her head tip up at the noise.

It was fate. Destiny. Whatever corny thing a romance writer would say it was. But there were only so many places her eyes could fall, and they happened to land on him.

What was it about making eye contact with a guy her age at the airport that made her feel like she was in a Hallmark movie? He gave her a polite smile. One that was downright pretty. Too pretty to be on a man's lips and one that made her heart skip a beat.

Hence why she was thinking about the romanticism of the airport in the first place.

She sincerely hoped she returned his kind smile because at the very least she didn’t want to be rude. But it was all a matter of seconds; this little romance novel scene she was playing out. Her cheeks felt warm with a rush of blood to her skin before she dropped her gaze back to her book. She had to. If she didn’t, she was going to do something crazy like profess how taken she was with him after meeting those stunning green eyes for half a second like the love at first sight she saw in movies.

But was that his gaze she felt heating up her skin? She refused to look up, but the words of her novel blurred together, and she could only think about how blue was one of her favorite colors growing up but green might have kicked that right out of the top spot in that moment.

*

Their flight was delayed which stressed her out beyond comprehension. It wasn’t even that long but if she didn’t have somewhere to be when she landed, she would have felt a lot better. She swore she was the last person to board the plane, and it only fueled her anxiety further.

But if it weren’t for the delay, her being last, or the fact that she was going to miss the rehearsal dinner for her friend’s wedding, the anxiety of seeing the hot guy from the gate was sitting next to her empty seat was surely going to give her a heart attack at the ripe age of her late twenties.

She felt her cheeks burning in recognition as he smiled again at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

That pretty face that was going to haunt her dreams for a lifetime. “Are you 12A?” He asked. The window seat, fortunately. His voice was warm and gentle.

“Yeah, sorry,” she bit her lip.

He chuckled standing in the aisle to get out of her way so she could get settled. “S’nothing t’apologize for.”

“I’m sure you thought you were going to have the row to yourself,” she sighed and placed her oversized purse on her seat so she could stow her carryon above her head.

“Allow me,” he offered and hoisted the bag to the storage space as if she hadn’t crammed a week’s worth of clothes and shoes inside it for only a long weekend. “S’okay. S’not a big plane. They said it was full.”

Stupid airports and their romantic goggles.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully and slipped into their row.

She noted all of his items were ready: a book tucked into the seat back compartment, a bottle of water stowed there as well, and his phone and headphones that he pulled from his pocket and placed on the tray once he was seated again. She fiddled with her bag, pulling out the items she wanted tucked into the spaces she had easy access to as well. Most importantly, she grabbed the travel package of disinfectant wipes to clean off her little home away from home for the next few hours.

“Oh, that’s a smart idea,” he smirked admiring her tidiness.

“I think Covid taught me that airplanes are one of the most disgusting places on the planet.”

He chuckled. “I suppose s’fair,” he nodded in agreement. “D’you have an extra one?” He asked. She nodded and held the little package out to her row-mate. He took two and repeated her routine to clean. The air vent, the tray table, the belt buckle and arm rest. He used the second to wipe down his headphones, phone, and book with a quick swipe. She held out a little sandwich bag she used for trash while on the plane. “Y’must fly a lot,” he smirked at her preparedness.

“Used to,” she took a deep breath. “I still get kind of nervous.”

“Honestly, would think y’were not human if y’didn’t get nervous.”

The announcements were being made and she focused on the flight attendants and their safety demonstration. Well, tried to. The man beside her was so handsome it was like he demanded to be stared at; it was hard not to comply to such a silent request. He looked effortlessly comfortable and so attractive it was unfair. But maybe it was those stupid airport goggles making her fall in love with someone relatively close to her age and perhaps he was only a little hot.

But as he reached for the air vent again, his sweatshirt sleeve slid down his wrist so that her eyes darted to his forearm and landed on the tattoo on the inside of his arm. It wasn’t even something she would qualify as a sexy tattoo, but it was there. As it appeared in her vision, all her dignity, self-respect, and thought of him being only a little hot, flew right out the window.

Stupid men.

The plane jolted a little as it started its take-off, making her gasp and she gripped the armrest tight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as it settled into its rhythm. The final announcement that the ascent was going to begin came through the speaker and the plane got quiet as it always did at that time. “Hey, love?”

It was pathetic she recognized his voice already. Pathetic that she was going to respond to the little pet name. They had barely spoken. But the two little words were soft and sexy. In a gentle kind of way. She peeked out of one eye to glance at him. She swallowed thickly around the nerves. “Uh... yeah?”

“I can hold your hand, if y’want. S’just a tight grip y’got on m’arm,” it was so gentle. He didn’t even sound annoyed or pained. She gasped again, released his arm from her goddamn death grip, and covered her mouth. How fucking embarrassing. She didn’t even notice.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“No, s’fine,” he assured her, his smile was so kind. Like she was a wounded bird that he found after it flew into the window. “Here,” he offered pulling her hand from her mouth and laced their fingers together. “M’not a fan of takeoff either,” he explained giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Did he feel how perfectly their hands fit together? Or did she imagine it? These airplane goggles were thick as hell. She was fucked when she got off the plane and never saw him again. They were silent during the remainder of the ascent and once the bell signaled that they could unbuckle, the pilot announced they were at cruising altitude, Harry gave her hand a squeeze again before releasing it.

“Thank you,” the sincerity in his voice made her blush and she was glad it was dark on the plane and the flight would remain dark. Because if she had to see how pretty his face was for the whole flight, she wasn’t going to make it. It was unfair that someone so handsome was seated next to her and she would never see him again. Someone who was thanking her for holding her hand. After she tried to rip his arm hair out.

Did his hand feel cold? Her hand felt cold. It was so ridiculous she just wanted to scream.

She had the worst luck.

*

Harry had the best luck. The pretty girl from the gate was in the same row as him. He got to hold her hand. The flight was only five or so hours long and the thought of it being delayed was miserable. But there she was looking so unbelievably beautiful.

There’s a REALLY pretty girl at my gate. He texted Mitch the second he saw her.

You better not be creepy. Sarah says there’s NOTHING worse than a guy being creepy at the airport.

I’m not going to make my soulmate uncomfortable. I’m just going to ask her every question that pops into my head to get to know her, and then ask how many kids she wants to have with me.

...Best of luck to her.

I’m probably not even going to talk to her :( She looks busy and what are the chances she’ll be sitting next to me? There’s no way I have that kind of luck.

But Harry did have that luck it seemed. The pretty girl was tucked into their row against the window, her head resting against the side of the plane. She was clean, organized, and adorable. He liked how she spoke to the flight attendant. Like she was a hinderance by being a passenger. It was sweet and he admired her kindness and thoughtfulness. She was so grateful when Harry handed her the little bag of pretzels and the drink she got.

“Reading something good?” She asked quietly.

Harry smiled and held it out to her so she could read the back cover. “Something m’sister recommended.”

She intently read the words on the back and nodded. “I think I’m going to add it to my never-ending list.”

God, he wanted to say he could give it to her when he was finished. But he was never going to see her again. So maybe he didn’t have the luck he hoped he did. “How ‘bout you?”

“Um...” she smiled. “It’s nothing... intelligent. It’s a brain-rotting romance thing. I don’t know, I like to read trashy stuff on the plane. Take my mind off it and everything else.”

“I see,” he didn’t ask Gemma a lot of questions, but he knew that meant it was filled with spicy romantic scenes that he could only dream about with someone as pretty as her. But that would be what Sarah called creepy, so he pushed that thought away quickly. “M’not a huge e-book person.”

“They’re good for travel,” she smiled. “I love bookstores, and I think I could build a whole house out of the books I have or want to buy. But traveling... it’s nice to have something compact. But I bought a book at the convenience store before we left. Which is so dumb because the mark up is like an extra ten dollars and I could have gotten it for free on this thing but the Wi-Fi is a bit of a problem sometimes, like I can’t get my new book to—” She paused as Harry listened intently. It was so disarming listening to her talk about books and her e-reader. It was adorable. Her eyes, even in the faint glow from the emergency airplane lights, were lit with excitement. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“No!” He frowned, shaking his head hurriedly. He immediately missed the excitement in her eyes. “Y’weren’t. I never thought ‘bout how the traveling is easier with it. I had t’forgo a whole outfit t’get m’books in m’bag.”

She smiled and sipped her drink. “I always do that. Except I’m sure you felt how heavy my bag was, I didn’t do it this time. I told myself I wasn’t going to overpack and I just couldn’t do it.”

“M’sister has a hard time with it too.”

“It’s impossible, I think. Especially for an event, you know?”

Was Harry still smiling? He couldn’t stop smiling. She just had this air about her. The air between them was vibrating and it wasn’t because of turbulence. She had to feel it, right? Harry couldn’t be imagining this electric feeling that was pulsing between them. They were just sitting there, staring at each other.

“Can I say something crazy?” He asked.

“Crazy? Are you planning on murdering me?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I jus’...” he paused and scanned her face memorizing the moment wondering how on earth he could meet her again. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to have a plane ride back with her. But there couldn’t be that much good luck. “This is a bit...” he trailed off and he chuckled. His face was only inches from hers. She bit her lip.

“Yeah... it is.”

“S’crazy, right?”

She nodded. “It is,” she whispered back.

“Hi,” he said quietly, a smile growing on his face.

“Hi,” she giggled.

*

When the plane began its descent, he held her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. It made her stomach flutter. As they left their little row, her heart hammered in her chest. How unfair it was that she would never see him again. He grabbed her bag from the compartment above and he walked with her all the way to baggage claim. They chatted a little more. Smiling and giggling. She didn’t even realize he was still holding her hand.

At least the airport goggles were working both ways it seemed.

“You let me go on and on about overpacking and you checked a bag?” He smirked, grabbed her hand again and led her toward the rideshare pickup spot. “Can I say something crazy?”

“Are y’planning on murdering me?” He asked.

“You felt it right?”

“Felt what?” The smile melted off her face and she dropped his hand like it burned her. “Whoa, hey,” he laughed and snagged it quick into his again. “S’bad joke,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. “Course I felt it.”

She looked at her feet. The seconds felt like hours as she looked for something to say. “I don’t know where to go from here,” she frowned looking back at him.

“Yeah...” He sighed. “It’s...” he sighed. There was so much he wanted to say. So much she wanted to tell him. They needed more time, more space.

She wanted to live on that plane.

Harry wanted to stay at that airport.

She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. It was crazy. Outlandish. Ridiculous. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin. He smiled on her mouth making her want to melt. His hand found her lower back, pulled her closer because in just sneakers she couldn’t reach his lips completely. With her firmly in his embrace, he nipped at her lower lip. It was so sinful she shivered.

The honking interrupted their moment, pulling each other apart. “I have to go,” she whispered looking at the Uber that matched the license plate listed on her phone.

“I know.”

“Hi,” she whispered with a quiet laugh.

“Hi.”

“It was... really nice meeting you,” her smile was so goddamn pretty it was going to make Harry cry.

“It was nice meeting you, love,” he answered. Safely tucked her into the back of the cab. She unrolled the window.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry,” he said.

“Harry,” she repeated. “Nice meeting you, Harry.”

*

“You have outdone yourself,” she smiled as she turned. The woman before her had a stunning smile, her hair half pinned, her white silk pajamas shimmering in the light. “They’re stunning.”

“You’re one to talk, I’d give you a hug but I don’t want to mess anything up,” she wrinkled her nose. “You love them?” She asked.

“I love them. They might upstage me.”

“I sincerely doubt it. You look stunning already.”

“Do you hate me for not making you a bridesmaid?”

“God, no,” she shook her head. “I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of person anyway. If you need anything today, I’m your girl,” she promised. “I was too far away,” she shrugged.

“Don’t remind me,” she frowned. “These flowers are the things of dreams. You are the best,” she sighed dreamily. “Can I see my bouquet?” Her frown quickly turned into a smile again. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

She went to the bucket that was at the edge of what would be the ceremony floor and pulled the bouquet from it. She felt so proud and happy with the arrangement she made for one of her long-time best friends. “Seph,” she smiled. “You look beautiful,” she reminded her.

Persephone grinned admiring the bouquet. “You’re incredible... How was your flight? Other than delayed?”

“It was...” she tried to think about anything but the color green. “Good.”

“Oh?” Seph’s perfectly plucked eyebrow arched suspiciously “How good? Did you join the mile high club?”

“Oh my God, Persephone, of course not.”

“Well, you don’t say good like that if he’s not cute.”

A slight pause as she looked at the ceiling and then back at her friend. “He was really cute.”

“You’re a walking Hallmark movie.”

“That’s literally how I felt.” They giggled then she sighed thinking about the kiss she shared with a stranger. It was so unlike her to get all in a twist about a guy she just met. This wasn’t normal. It was like she was still in the airport. There were so many things they didn’t talk about. So many things she didn’t know about him and never would. It was unfair and yet she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she was still flying. Shaking her head, she turned to her friend once more. “Alright, I have to finish these flower arrangements. Not sure if you know this, but there’s a wedding happening here tonight.”

“Sorry about your airplane man, babe,” Seph squeezed her shoulder.

“Hey, no frowns. It’s your wedding day,” she turned back to the table she was working on before her friend’s interruption. “I think some moments are meant to just... exist in that moment.”

*

Harry had thought about only three things that day. Breathing, cake, and of course the beautiful girl he met on the plane.

You KISSED her?! Sarah asked.

I know... I’ve never met anyone like her.

That’s a real bummer, Harry, honestly. It was and Sarah was right. At first, he was joking, but now he was certain she was his soulmate, and he just let her go. But what choice did he have? Yes, there was the feeling of his heart beating faster. The excitement of making her laugh. But there was the calmness, the tranquility of being beside her. Holding her hand.

Maybe it was morbid, but Harry was certain he was looking for someone to hold his hand if the plane were to go down and maybe that’s what a soulmate really was.

It was easy. Easy to talk to her, make her laugh. It was easy to get to know her and he didn’t even know anything about her. He didn’t know where she was from, what she did, where she was going, but he just knew that she was his and he let her go. There were too many variables. Too many things he couldn’t control.

“Harry, you almost done?”

“Jus’ putting the finishing touches,” he mumbled.

“We’re going to be late!”

“They won’t start without us,” he rolled his eyes.

“If there is a speck of—”

“I’m clean, I’m clean,” he shook his head, coming to the other room and brushing his hands along his coat. “Let’s get married, yeah?”

*

The maid of honor talked about how lucky the pair of them were to find one another. How there were an infinite number of opportunities for them to not have met but there was this special moment destined for each other. Where Persephone would walk into the library to sit in her favorite study spot and if she wasn’t so superstitious she would have just found another table.

But instead, she walked right up to the table, told her future husband he was in her spot, and she was preparing for an exam, and she wouldn’t let him use her favorite seat.

The best man spoke about how he was actually destined to be with the groom for forever and ever which made the entire place laugh.

But talk of luck and destiny just made her feel miserable on the inside. If she asked for his number or where he lived, it would be hours from where she lived. She would be devastated. A kiss was a good ending to her little story. That would suffice.

Maybe he already had a girlfriend. That would work too. Something to make her feel like a horrible person and lessen the blow that her soulmate was somewhere out there never to be seen again. Harry was just a guy that held her hand on a plane and talked about books with her for hours so she wouldn’t be scared. Someone that split his snacks with her even though she didn’t know him.

No. She couldn’t think about him. She had to stop thinking about him. It wasn’t good for her brain or her heart.

It was a beautiful ceremony. That’s what she needed to focus on. Persephone was a gorgeous bride and the event was just... perfect. “I think I’ve given your name and number to just about every single woman here,” Seph said sliding into a seat beside her and kissed her cheek.

She laughed. “Well thank you,” she smiled. “Let me see,” she held her hand out for the one with her new jewelry and she admired the pretty diamond that glimmered alongside the new band of diamonds below it. “Everything is beautiful.”

“This place is beautiful because of you. Just like you said.”

“Oh... it was beautiful before. I just added to it.”

“I didn’t see it though. It’s a bargain if you can envision it like this. I seriously wouldn’t have picked it without you saying you’d do the flowers,” Seph explained. “You saw so much more than I did.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a place on earth that doesn’t benefit from flowers.”

“Well, thank you,” she squeezed her hand. “I wouldn’t be having a wonderful day without you. I know it was a lot to travel out here and—”

“No, no. Don’t even. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Flowers or no flowers.”

Persephone grinned. “Well... in other news... do you see anyone as cute as your airplane man? Lerone has a lot of single friends.”

She smirked and shook her head. “No offense, Seph, but there is no one that’s going to be as cute as my airplane guy.”

“No one?”

Her head snapped up to the voice that she had already planned on dreaming about for the rest of her life. Her eyes met the same green gaze she had the pleasure of looking at for five hours while chatting about books and whispering about nothing of importance (but it all seemed important at the time). There was no way. She didn’t have this kind of luck. If there was a squeaky carriage at the grocery store she was sure to pick it. There was no way that—

“Hi Harry!” Persephone smiled. “Do you two know each other?”

“Something like that,” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi,” Harry grinned at her.

She cleared her throat, adrenaline flowing through her body. “Hi,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Harry baked our cake. He went to school with Lerone.”

“Oh,” she swallowed.

“And I heard y’did all the work with these pretty flowers,” Harry smiled.

“She’s like the flower queen,” Persephone giggled.

“I see.”

There was a pause while they stared at each other. Harry grinning like a madman, he was sure. But she was stunning. A floral dress draped her body, her hair half pinned up. She was so pretty. Somehow even prettier than the way she looked on the airplane and Harry was certain she could never be prettier than the moment she sat next to him.

“Hi,” she laughed.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

“Of all the gin joints.”

Harry took a seat beside her. Persephone had moved onto the next table and yet, she hadn’t even noticed. “I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you, love,” he grabbed her hand. “Been thinking ‘bout the plane, y’e-reader, and that earth-shattering kiss.”

Her cheeks heated up and Harry reached out to brush his thumb on her cheek. “This is insane,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed.

“I don’t have luck like this,” she explained. “I’m the kind of person that has their luggage get lost. Or my coat will snag on the doorknob. If I didn’t want to be paired with someone in a group project in high school, I could guarantee I was going to be in their group.”

“Y’think it’s lucky you’re meeting me?” He practically wiggled his eyebrows. Trying to sound egotistical but all it did was make her fall harder for him.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Well...yeah,” she swallowed. “I mean... what else am I supposed to call it?”

“It doesn’t have t’be luck. Can jus’ be meeting you.”

“I don’t think it works that way for me.”

“Can I dance with you?” He asked.

“I’m not very good and I think there’s a good chance I’ll step on your toes and—”

Harry was already helping her stand and tugging her to the dance floor. She did step on his toes, not hard, but her quiet “sorry” was lost on Harry. It felt perfect to hold her in his arms. One hand in his, her other at the back of his neck, his free hand on the small of her back. They fit like puzzle pieces. “A florist, hmm?” He hummed right by her ear.

“A baker?” She replied.

He chuckled. “What are the chances?”

*

“D’you have any idea how good y’look?” He groaned. She was in just a T-shirt. Harry’s T-shirt. He propped his head in his hand as he looked at her laying in his bed. His finger skimming just below the hem of the shirt. It barely touched her thighs and the only thing that stood in his way was a scrap of fabric she called underwear.

She giggled. “Back at you.”

“This is insane,” he smiled and pressed his lips to hers.

“It is,” she whispered.

If all her bad luck had been to make this weekend happen, she was forever grateful. This was worth it. Harry was worth it. “When’s your flight?”

“Quarter of five. When’s yours?”

“The same, of course.”

She smiled and tucked her face into his chest. “How far away are you from my shop?”

“Only ‘bout a half hour drive,” he told her. “Why?”

“Just... wondering.”

“Jus’ want t’know how much time and distance is between you and a toe-curling orgasm?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I wasn’t talking ‘bout you,” he peppered a line of kisses down the side of her face and along her neck, down the curve of her shoulder, even when the T-shirt got in the way. “You are so pretty,” he mumbled pulling at his shirt to touch her soft skin and curves. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so pretty.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I’d remember you,” he smiled pressing his lips to her collarbone. He pulled the shirt off her and he brushed his thumbs across her nipples softly. Making them perk up more than they already were with the cold air from the room and no barrier between her. “Definitely remember this,” he mumbled into her skin.

“I have to pack,” she whispered but her voice was air and her resolve wasn’t there.

“Put it in m’checked bag,” his lips were occupied by one of her nipples making it extremely difficult for her to concentrate. “Jus’ shove everything in there. Then s’a promise I’ll see y’after we land.”

Her heart fluttered. “You want to see me again?”

He popped his head up from licking at her like she was candy. The air was even chillier against the sensitive skin without Harry’s warm mouth wrapped around her. “M’sorry, was I not clear?”

She smirked. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about airport goggles.”

“Airport goggles?” He repeated.

“I have really bad luck, Harry. I just worry that the idea of me in an airport because I’m roughly your age... or like, you know airplane food is a real thing? Not just a joke? Something about the altitude messing with your tastebuds or something. So maybe this is all an illusion, is what I’m saying. Maybe I am really unlucky because when we get back to our real life we won’t have airport goggles and—”

“Kitten,” he chuckled and rubbed his thumb across her lip. “Shh,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

“I’m just saying—”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I hear you. But m’telling you, there’s no such thing as airport goggles. Even if there are, m’never taking them off.”

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[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1247 words

“Oh,” James pauses, his thumb hovering over his screen as he glances at the phone, his expression shifting to one of mild frustration. “It’s work,” he mutters under his breath, his brow furrowing slightly. “I need to take this.”

“That’s alright,” you smile gently. “I’ll take Henry in, and you can meet us in there when you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” James asks, his gaze flicking between you and Henry, who is gripping both straps of his backpack, his glasses slightly askew as he squints curiously at the classroom ahead.

“Yes,” you encourage, taking a sip of the coffee James made for you this morning savoring the warmth. “If you’re quick enough, I don’t think he’ll even notice.” You nod towards Henry, who is intently watching the family ahead of you greet his teacher, his curiosity piqued.

James presses a quick, hurried kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the line and heading off to take the call. Henry's teacher greets him with warmth, complimenting his glasses and excitedly telling him about the art projects planned for the day. The exchange is brief but effective, and you can see Henry’s nerves begin to ease. He’s been uncertain about school all morning, but you and James have done your best to ease his worries, sharing stories of your own favorite memories from school to get him excited.

You barely finish telling Henry that you’ll meet the other parents before he’s darting forward, his little legs carrying him with surprising speed toward the corner of the room where the toys are. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you watch him seamlessly slip into a group of kids, his small hands eagerly grabbing a toy train. All his earlier fears seem to vanish in an instant, replaced by the gleam of excitement in his eyes. 

At the back of the classroom, a table is set up with an assortment of pastries, a small sign propped up beside them: We know this may be a tough transition, so enjoy a lemon croissant to brighten your day! You smile softly at the gesture, reaching for one of the croissants just as someone else does, your fingers brushing against each other.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, glancing up at a man who looks equally as surprised as you. The pastry is now long forgotten.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry,” the man rushes to say, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment as he offers you a sheepish smile. “I got a bit too excited to finally grab some breakfast and didn’t even notice you there.”

“I get it,” You laugh, holding up your coffee cup. “This is all I had time for this morning.” “The struggles of being a parent,” he jokes, offering you his hand with a wry smile. “Aaron. My kid’s the one who looks like she’s two seconds away from crying. It’s clearly a big day for her.”

You offer your name, smiling sympathetically at the sight of his daughter, who is taking in the classroom with big, wide eyes. “Mine’s the one with glasses, who is very impatiently waiting for a turn at the train table.”

You spend the next few minutes chatting with Aaron, commiserating over the bittersweet challenge of watching your child start school. You both agree that the teacher seems wonderful—kind, approachable, and genuinely invested in the kids. 

“Daddy,” A sweet, soft voice says. “Nobody wants to be my friend.” You watch with a squeeze in your heart how nervous the little girl, Ella, you learned, looks. Aaron sighs, leaning down to talk to his daughter, and your eyes shift to Henry, who is chatting to anyone willing to listen.

You call his name, and when he glances up, you gesture for him to come over.

“Yeah, mumma?” Henry comes to meet you where you're bent down, slotting himself into your side as he watches Ella sniffle into her dad's shoulder.

It doesn’t take long after the introductions for Ella’s tears to dry, replaced by infectious giggles as she and Henry build towering block structures, only to gleefully knock them down again.

“Thank you,” Aaron murmurs, his gaze fixed on Ella, sitting on the floor in front of you both with Henry, before he glances at you. “I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to leave for work knowing she was so upset.”

“It was no problem,” you shrug, your voice soft. “I know today’s been tough.”

You’re so absorbed in watching Henry and Ella that you don’t notice Aaron’s gaze lingering on you, appreciatively taking you in, or how his eyes flick to your left hand, searching for any sign of a ring. But James notices. He’s just barely made it in the door after his call, and the moment his eyes land on you and Aaron, a flicker of something dark passes over his face. His jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as he stands in the doorway, feeling the jealousy pool in his stomach.

Aaron leans in, his proximity crossing into uncomfortable territory—you don’t seem to notice, though—as he points to something across the classroom. James, already tense, steps forward, irritation clear in his movements—he’s had enough of watching someone else make an attempt to flirt with you, and it’s barely been thirty seconds.

“I’m sorry, darling. The call took longer than I expected.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around your waist. The warmth in his voice makes your face brighten, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s alright.” You murmur, that lovestruck look settling on your face as you gaze at him. For a brief moment, you forget that you were in the middle of a conversation, so distracted by the feeling of James’ touch.

“Oh! This is Aaron—his daughter Ella is playing with Henry.” You gesture toward Ella before flashing Aaron a smile. “And this is James—”

“—Her husband.” James interjects, his tone sharp as he extends his hand. Your jaw drops in surprise as you turn to him, shock written across your face.

Aaron hesitates for a moment, then takes James’ hand, his expression unreadable. “Nice to meet you, mate,” he says, his voice steady, though there’s an uncomfortable edge to it.

A few minutes of brief conversation pass, and it's clear Aaron isn't nearly as warm with James present as he was when it was just you. Sensing the tension, you feel a wave of relief when the teacher announces it's time for parents to say their goodbyes and head out. You and James shower Henry with kisses and smother him in hugs, reluctant to let him go, before finally saying your goodbyes.

James hopes you’ve forgotten his jealous remark, but as soon as you get in the car, you turn to him, shaking your head with an amused smile.

“My husband? How will you explain that when he finds out you lied?” You snort, glancing expectantly at James.

“Listen, love,” he starts, his tone defensive, “you should’ve seen the way he was looking at you. He checked if you were wearing a ring!”

“I don’t care,” you reply, buckling yourself in with a soft, sincere smile. “The only man I care about is you.” You hum playfully, adding, “Even if he did kind of look like you.”

James scoffs, his eyes flicking to you. “He absolutely did not,” he mutters, his tone defensive. “I’m way better looking.” When you don’t respond, he glances at you again, a hint of panic creeping in. “Right?”

please please please consider reblogging and/or commenting. it keeps me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads my work 🤍

[caitified]

Caitlin x reader where reader is a physio in training with the fever?

physio

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none! sorry for my absence.

i kind of want to do a part 2 of this where caitlin gets slightly injured and reader takes care of her. lmk what you think

it was caitlin’s first official day with the indiana fever. she walked into the training facility with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, trying to hide the mix of nerves and excitement she felt. the fever locker room wasn’t as intimidating as she’d expected, but everything still felt new – new team, new city, new start.

as she headed down the hall, she spotted you in the physical therapy room, organizing equipment with a calm focus. she hadn’t even met you yet, but something about you immediately caught her attention. maybe it was the way you moved so purposefully, or the easy way you smiled when you noticed her standing in the doorway.

“hey, you must be caitlin,” you said, extending a hand with a friendly smile. “i’m [y/n]. i’m the team’s physical therapist.”

caitlin shook your hand, noticing the warmth of your touch, and couldn’t help the way her stomach did a little flip. “yeah, that’s me. it’s…really nice to meet you,” she managed, maybe a bit too eagerly.

you chuckled softly, motioning for her to sit on the table. “let’s get you checked out, make sure you’re ready to hit the court.”

over the next few weeks, caitlin found herself coming up with excuses to visit the therapy room more often than necessary. she’d claim her ankle felt a little off or that her shoulder was bothering her, all in the hopes of spending a few extra minutes with you. she’d tell herself it was just to get to know the team, but katie lou and lexie quickly saw through her excuses.

“you know, most of us don’t need this much ‘maintenance,’” katie lou teased one afternoon, nudging caitlin as they walked to practice. “pretty sure you’re the healthiest rookie we’ve ever had.”

caitlin rolled her eyes, but a faint blush crept over her cheeks. “just trying to be careful, that’s all.”

it wasn’t long before you started picking up on her pattern, too. one afternoon, when she came in yet again with a vague complaint about her knee, you just raised an eyebrow at her.

“really, clark? again?” you asked, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

she hesitated, caught off guard by your directness. “uh, well… yeah. just, you know, making sure everything’s good.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “you know, you don’t need to pretend to be injured to talk to me.”

caitlin’s eyes widened a bit, and she looked down, rubbing the back of her neck. “oh. i mean, i wasn’t–” she stopped, realizing she was caught. “okay, maybe a little.”

you smiled, taking a small step closer. “so why don’t you just ask me out? save yourself all these fake injury excuses?”

caitlin’s breath hitched, surprised by your boldness but grateful you’d made the first move. “you’d really say yes?”

you nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. “i might. but only if you promise to keep the injuries real.”

and from that moment, things shifted between you. you started seeing each other outside of the facility, grabbing coffee after practices and spending late nights getting to know each other. soon, what had started as shy glances and playful excuses turned into something real.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dating caitlin felt like a dream, especially with the quiet, stolen moments you managed to squeeze into busy schedules. after practice, she’d sometimes find you waiting by the therapy room, her heart doing that familiar flip at the sight of your smile.

“hey, you up for grabbing a bite?” she’d ask, slipping her hand in yours once the two of you were far enough from the facility. at first, you’d both been careful, cautious about being seen together too much, but as the weeks passed, caitlin grew bolder.

one night after a game, you were hanging out in her apartment, both sprawled on the couch, unwinding from the rush of her latest win. she was recounting the highlight of her night, the way she’d hit that last three-pointer, her voice full of excitement as she gestured animatedly.

“i swear, when it left my hand, i just knew it was going in,” she laughed, eyes bright. “the whole crowd went nuts.”

you grinned, watching her, amused by her excitement. “yeah, i saw – i think you almost took out the ref when you celebrated.”

“worth it,” she said, laughing. she shifted a little closer, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “but the best part of the night?” she paused, looking into your eyes, a little softer now. “seeing you waiting for me after the game.”

you felt your heart skip a beat as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a slow, gentle kiss that felt like coming home. you wrapped your arms around her, feeling the steady thump of her heartbeat under your fingers.

just as things were getting comfortable, caitlin’s phone lit up on the coffee table, a notification from the team group chat. she groaned, reluctantly pulling away to check it, but couldn’t help laughing when she saw the message from katie lou.

“don’t be late to practice tomorrow, lover girl. and yes, we know you’re still with her.”

caitlin rolled her eyes, showing you the screen. “they’re relentless, you know?”

you laughed, snuggling closer. “i mean, we’re not exactly subtle. not with the way you keep trying to sneak glances at me during warm-ups.”

she grinned, her hand tracing gentle circles on your back. “can’t help it. you’re a distraction.”

your smile softened, and you tilted your head up to look at her. “good thing i’m dating a pro, then. thought you were supposed to have focus.”

“oh, i’m focused, alright.” caitlin’s gaze grew more intense, and her voice lowered as she leaned in again. “focused on you.”

the rest of the night passed in easy conversation and laughter, the kind of effortless connection that had come so naturally from the start. with every passing day, caitlin grew more comfortable being with you, letting her teammates’ teasing roll off her back as she spent more time with you – coffee dates, late-night drives, shared laughter over takeout in her apartment.

soon enough, everyone knew. but caitlin didn’t care. for the first time, she was completely herself with someone, and every time you looked at her with that soft smile, she knew it was worth it.

thanks for reading! again thanks for being patient. i NEED more requests im not super inspired. 💜

[loverafey]

he comes back bruised !

ꕀ warnings - rafe's having a breakdown, a bit mean to reader, brief mention of injuries, unestablished relationship, hurt/comfort. wc - 697.

it had been a while since you last heard from rafe, messages and calls left unanswered. you didn’t want to seem clingy, you really didn’t, but the prolonged silence was starting to make you more and more anxious with each passing day. was he even okay?

you had decided to wait by his house tonight, finding no one there, silently sitting down at the porch as you scrolled through your phone, attempting to divert your attention from the tension within you that continued to build up. evening turned into night and you were almost about to give up when you heard a rustle in the bushes nearby, causing you to stiffen up.

you sat there, still with wide eyes staring at the source of the noise, holding your breath. there walked in rafe, his breathing clearly irregular as he stomped forward, his hands fidgeting and holding onto his head in distress. you soon noticed his knuckles, bruised and bloodied — so were his lips. fuck.

“rafe?” you were quick to rush forward, though still maintaining some distance, trying to not let all of your concern show. the last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. though it was hard to suppress the wobbling of your lips and the way your hands ached to grasp his bloodied ones. “are you okay?”

he didn’t respond to you, pacing around and avoiding your eyes, grunting in agitation as he slammed his knuckles against the side of his head, causing you to step forward and grab his hand.

“don’t fuckin’ touch me!” he was quick to pull his hand away, his loud voice cutting through the previous silence that surrounded this place. you couldn’t help but flinch, though he barely noticed it.

“why are you here?” his voice came out as a snarl as he stepped forward, closing the distance in between you both, allowing you to catch a better sight of the cut on his lip that was still bleeding.

“i was worried you… hadn’t been responding to my messages.” you explained yourself, brows furrowing as you connected the dots together gradually. “rafe, did you beat someone up….?”

somehow that question made his shoulders stiffen up even more, a groan leaving him as he shifted from one foot to another. “why do you care?” he asked, voice hoarse as his hands shakingly grabbed onto your shoulders, as if trying to see whether you were really there. you didn’t pull away, ignoring the ache blooming in your chest at how he was yelling at you.

he wiped the blood from his mouth, constantly shaking his head. “don’t need your fake sympathy. you’re just using me like others, aren’t you? making fun of me behind my back as well?” he laughed bitterly, his body not knowing how to react. he wanted to say so much more, accuse you of things you hadn’t even done, rendering you confused.

“that fucker deserved it. bad mouthing my father, calling him all sorts of things! i needed to beat some sense into that fuckface.” he didn’t give you a chance to speak, getting louder with his sentences getting more incomprehensible, his mind clearly a mess.

he was panting heavily, trying to struggle away as your hands finally managed to cup his face, eyes desperately trying to meet his wavering ones. once he looked at you, a choked noise left his mouth as the palms of his hands quickly tried to dry the forming tears in his eyes. “f-fuck… sorry baby, i’m so sorry…” he sounded so broken, his resolve weakening as he let you hold him.

“i can’t… it’s just been too much. and everyone’s pissing me off and-” you let him ramble on and on, hissing, tones shifting back and forth between being angry and just utterly devastated. “shouldn’t have yelled at you like that… promised myself i was gonna change.”

“i know, i know.” you hummed, gently wrapping your arms around him. he was quick to pull you into him, face resting against his chest, his heart beat loud. “i care for you, a lot.” you offered him a smile, letting him rest against you. “c’mon, let’s take you inside and get your wounds tended.”

[cailinsblog]

Chilled Feet, Warm Hearts-max verstappen

Max verstappen x reader

Masterlist

It was one of those rare days when Max Verstappen had a bit of free time—a moment to relax and unwind before the busy schedule of racing took over again. The world outside was quiet, with the only sounds being the soft rustling of the trees in the breeze and the distant hum of life moving on without him. For once, Max could let go of the constant adrenaline that came with being a Formula One driver and just enjoy the peace of a day with Y/N.

Max had just finished his morning run. It was a routine he cherished, the kind that helped him clear his head and prepare for whatever the day would throw his way. After a quick shower to cool down, he wrapped himself in a towel and made his way to the bedroom, where Y/N was lounging under the covers, her favorite book open in her lap.

The room was warm, cozy—just the way they liked it. Max grinned to himself as he entered, his feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The bed was inviting, and Y/N, with her gentle smile and the way the light from the window made her hair shine, was even more so.

He slid under the covers, his feet slipping between the sheets until he felt a soft touch. It was Y/N’s leg—just a gentle brush, but it was enough to send a chill through the air. Max’s foot, still slightly damp from his run, brushed against her skin.

“Yelp!” Y/N’s surprised voice rang out, her eyes widening in the most adorable way.

Max froze, instantly concerned. He shifted his body to face her, his brows furrowing in worry. “What’s wrong?” His voice was laced with genuine concern, as he reached for her to make sure she was okay.

Y/N sat up a little, pulling her knees up to her chest, giving him a slightly exaggerated pout. “Your feet are cold, Maxx,” she whined playfully, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “I wasn’t expecting it!”

Max stared at her, trying not to laugh, but he couldn’t help himself. The sight of her being all cute and dramatic about his cold feet was too much. He quickly slipped out of the bed and moved to sit beside her, reaching out and rubbing her arms in a mock-serious manner.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, feigning guilt. “Let me make it up to you.”

Y/N grinned, clearly amused by his dramatic response. “I’m not sure how you’re going to fix this situation, Max,” she teased, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

Max leaned in closer, his body now half against her. He gently took one of her legs in his hands, his cold feet still making contact with her skin as he rubbed her calves to warm her up. “Maybe this will help,” he said, sounding almost too pleased with himself.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the playful gleam in her eyes not missing a beat. “Well, I guess that’s better, but only if you promise to keep your feet to yourself from now on.”

Max chuckled, rubbing her legs a little more before finally curling back into the warmth of the bed beside her. “I promise,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he wrapped his arm around her.

Y/N snuggled in closer, resting her head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice already half-drowsy from the comfort of being in his arms. “But next time, maybe leave the cold feet out of the equation.”

Max laughed again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll try, I swear.”

The two of them lay there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, enjoying the rare quiet of the day. Max absentmindedly played with her hair, his fingers running through the soft strands as he listened to the calm rhythm of her breathing. For once, there was no rush, no race on the horizon, just the comforting presence of the person he loved most.

“Max?” Y/N murmured after a while, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” he replied, his voice still soft, sleepy from the tranquility of the moment.

“I love these days,” she said, her fingers gently tracing circles on his chest. “Just us. No stress. No racing. Just... you and me.”

Max smiled, the warmth in his chest growing as he tightened his embrace around her. “Me too,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

He could feel her smile against his chest as she nodded. “I’m glad we can have moments like this.”

Max placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, his fingers still lazily running through her hair. He couldn’t agree more. Life as a Formula One driver was fast, chaotic, and sometimes overwhelming. But moments like this—quiet, calm, with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the soft thrum of affection between them—made it all worth it.

The snow began to fall gently outside the window, casting a soft glow over the room. The world felt still, like time itself had slowed down for just a little while, letting Max and Y/N enjoy the rare peace of the day.

As they lay there together, Max couldn’t help but think that these small moments—cuddling in bed after a run, laughing over cold feet, or simply holding each other in the warmth of their shared space—were the ones that made everything else worthwhile. The races, the media, the never-ending travel—it all faded into the background when he was with her.

And with that thought, he closed his eyes, content, knowing that no matter where the next race would take him, he had something far more important waiting for him when he returned—her. And their little moments of warmth, shared laughter, and love.

💕💕Remember reblog helps a lot guy💕💕

[ghouldump]

(sending this again because i think tumblr deleted it!)

loustat x reader, and reader at the time is the only mortal in their relationship until reader privately asks louis to turn her (can be gn, i mainly read fem!reader stuff) into a vampire so she can commit herself to them eternally, louis says no in order of protecting her, they argue a bit before she agrees and a few days later lestat finds out and he does it for her and louis is not happy. even though he wanted her to stay innocent he still wanted to be her maker

and if u want u can take it from there :)

All I Ask Of You | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ when lestat takes matters into his own hands, leaving louis to sit in his regret of not complying with your wishes.

i will be booked and busy tomorrow, so the bulk of post will be up on saturday, i hope you can accept this for now, my lovelies 🤲🩷

“Please, Louis”

“I told you, my answer is no,” he raised his voice, turning away from you. How could you ask him for such a thing? He and Lestat promised to fulfill your every desire, but not this, not when you had so much to live for.

“Fine,” you had been trying for days now to get him to comply, but he wouldn't budge.

“Don’t be like that, it is for the-

“For the best, I know, I heard you the first time, listen, I can’t stay tonight, could you tell Les for me?” you asked, already headed towards the door before he could speak. You refused to cry in front of him, swinging open the door of the townhouse, just as Lestat was entering the gate.

“Ma ch-

“I’m in a rush, Louis will explain,” you pulled away from his reach, leaving him to stare bewildered at your figure becoming more distant. He wanted to question what happened while he was away, but as he began to open his mouth, something about the gloom in Louis’s eyes kept him from speaking.

“She has errands,” he mumbled, as Lestat nodded.

Silently, he followed behind Louis locking up the house as they prepared for sunrise. He wasn’t sure what he’d missed, but he was determined to find out, soon enough.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re alright darling?” Your mother asked as she leaned against the counter watching as you helped put away the leftovers from dinner.

“Yes, why?”

“You never come home, and now you’re here. Not only that, we’re going on day 3, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I can’t miss home?” you frowned.

“I didn’t say that, it’s just that it seemed like you were never leaving New Orleans, it’s been months and you’re only an hour away,” she explained. There wasn't a proper way to tell her, or your father, that you had fallen in love with two vampires, one being a few decades older, while the other — a few centuries.

“I’m sorry, I’ll visit more often,” you told her, watching as she smiled, going to pull you into a hug.

“Good, your father and I get so lonely”

“You should move to New Orleans, get out of Covington, and live a little,” you laughed.

“Absolutely not, this is home, I’ll take it from here, you go ahead and get ready for bed,” she waved you off.

“Goodnight,” you said, as she kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight sweet pea,” she called as you walked down the hall, going to your old bedroom.

Entering the room, you inhaled the vanilla aroma, as your mind drifted to your lovers. Only three days and you already felt sick to your stomach. You wondered if they missed you as much as you missed them. You told your roommate to simply tell them you were out of town if they showed up at your apartment, but you weren't sure how much longer you could continue with this.

Going to the connected bathroom, you filled the bathtub with warm water. Staring into the water, your mind drowned with regret. You had been so inconsiderate to Louis, expecting him to take on such a big responsibility. 

“Louis,” you moaned breathlessly, as he kissed along your collarbone.

“I want you to turn me,” you said, the oxygen seemingly getting caught in your throat, as he stopped, before pulling away from you.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked, his voice comforting, as he sat up, trying to concentrate on your thoughts.

“I love you both and I want to give myself to you and Lestat, forever, from this point on,” you vowed to him.

“Y/n, you don't know what you're saying, you are amazing, everything is perfect the way it is-

“Until I begin to age, and become decrepit, please Louis, become my maker, as Lestat is yours”

“You don't realize how precious life is until it is no longer in your reach. I can't do this to you, I can't take away your life when you have so much purpose,” he told you, wiping your tears as you began to cry.

Turning off the faucet, you huffed, roughly wiping the tears from your eyes. The fact that you were crying over him telling you no made you feel adolescent compared to the two. Tossing your clothing into the hamper, your muscles tensed before relaxing, as you submerged into the warm water. 

Laying back, you closed your eyes, relishing in the therapeutic sensation. Humming in relief, you focused on clearing your mind. You would only stay here a few more days before you headed home. You had built a life in New Orleans and you wouldn't leave it behind, and you certainly had no intentions of closing this chapter of your life with Louis or Lestat, over this situation.

Feeling a cool breeze across the water, you crossed your legs, shifting to feel the warmth, with your eyes still shut. Only a few minutes passed before the chilling fingertips brushed against your skin, causing you to open your eyes, sitting up. Looking around, you didn't see a person as you sighed, laying back again, closing your eyes.

“How we’ve missed you,” Lestat spoke, making you jump, but quickly relaxed as he reassuringly massaged your shoulders.

Standing behind you, he crouched down, kissing along your neck, licking away the water droplets, while you held back your moan.

“Louis isn't here,” he answered your thoughts before you could ask.

“He says you're upset with him, but won't say why,” he said, his large hands rubbing down your abdomen into the warm water.

“No, he should be upset with me,” you sat up, abruptly, facing him.

“Do tell why?” he smirked. 

“I asked him to turn me…into a vampire,” you said, your face burning in shame.

“And he said no-

“He is only trying to protect me, I didn't understand but I do now,” you said, unable to meet his eyes.

“But that isn't what you want, chèrie, is it?” he asked, as the waterworks began to pour. Shaking your head, as you finally met his eyes.

“I want an eternity with the two of you, the thought of me getting old and you both becoming a distant memory, if I even remember, it scares me, could I even live a normal life ever again, after sharing my heart with the two of you,” you said, as he stood up straight, reaching for the soft towel. Using his free hand, he helped you stand, wrapping the towel around your frame, before leading you out of the bathroom.

“You wanted Louis to change you, to allow him to experience what I have given him, but this is just as sentimental. Giving the gift to two extraordinary souls who I love greatly, would you like that, chèrie?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Yes, please,” you admitted embarrassingly.

“Do you vow to only love Louis and I, for an eternity? Forever is a very long time, go ahead, answer in the presence of God,” he motioned to the crucifix hanging on your wall.

“I do,” you nodded earnestly.

“Then you will be my fledgling, with my blood running through your veins,” he said, swiftly pulling you into his arms, before his fangs were out, plunging into your soft skin. You could feel your body weakening as he drained your blood, before he finally pulled away. Biting into his wrist, he soon placed it against your mouth.

“Drink,” he instructed, his eyes full of endearment as you moaned at the taste of his blood. You had licked your own wound as a child and the taste of iron was nothing worth comparing to his blood, you almost couldn’t stop, until he pulled his arm away.

“Thank you Les,” you said tiredly, as he grinned, kissing your neck, before sitting your limp body on the bed. Walking away, he became to boredly pack your things. He knew his intuition was correct, you had been wanting this for a while now and he had a feeling it started nearly three months back, when you asked if you could join them, as they hunted.

Watching you closely, as you sat up, hurling onto the floor, you clutched your stomach in agony. Groaning, you began to vomit on the floor, chills all over your body. Lestat neatly placed everything in your suitcase, going to zip it. Noticing your quietness, his smirk widened, as you now stood unfazed, the towel covering the vomit, as you stood nude with poise. Your new eyes and nails catching his attention, you certainly were a beautiful vampire.

“You look like perfection,” he approached you.

“I feel like…perfection”

“Let us find your first hunt, as you know with Louis’s situation, staying here won’t be possible, with your new life,” he said, as you nodded, going to grab clothing from the luggage, while looking for a pen and paper — leaving your mom a random excuse for why you had to leave.

“Do you think Louis will be mad at us?”

“Very”

“You have to suck not bite,” Lestat said, holding down your victim, as you straddled the guys lap, your fangs deep in his neck. You had made it back to New Orleans and the first thing Lestat took you to do was find your first meal. You were a natural, as you intentionally looked through the selection of people. When finally, you chose some creep, he was a bad man and you felt you were doing a bit of justice, ridding the world of such garbage.

Suddenly the front door opened, there was a few footsteps before he spoke, “What the fuck is going on?” Louis asked confusedly. Pulling away from the man, he tried screaming, begging for help, when Lestat snapped his neck.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” He asked you, as you bashfully nodded.

“Y/n,” Louis called out. Slowly facing him, you smiled, blood dripping down your mouth.

“Hi Louis”

“You turned her, now why the hell would you do that?” He yelled at Lestat.

“She wanted this, would you have preferred she stumbled across another vampire-

“I would have preferred you left her as she was,” Louis argued.

“I wanted this Louis, he was only helping-

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n, you weren’t ready, and you took advantage of her ignorance,” he screamed as Lestat sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Louis, I wanted this for more than anything, to be alongside you both, an eternity together-

“Don’t you think I know what you want, I’ve heard your thoughts, it doesn’t change the fact that it was not smart. You just threw away everything, your family, your friends, life, you’re dead now, and there is no going back,” he said, as you hesitantly climbed from the limp body. His tone brought an uneasiness to your heart, your eyes stinging.

“All I wanted, all I thought I wanted, was to be with you and Lestat. I can’t see myself with anyone else, but I’m sorry, please don’t be angry with Lestat,” you said, the dark blood leaking from your eyes. Lestat reached for you, but you moved, walking out to the backyard.

“Are you seriously that angry, Louis, how long did you expect her to wait?” Lestat asked.

“Why did you do it? She didn’t have to be turned into this,” Louis shook his head, glancing in the direction of the backyard. Regretting how harsh he sounded, as he spoke to you.

“Louis, you can still protect her as a vampire, I know you only wanted to look out for her, but she wanted the gift, she chose to love us over her parents and friends, she was worthy,” Lestat said.

“I was too harsh to her,” Louis mumbled.

“Then you should be apologizing to her, and thanking me for making yet another beautiful fledgling,” Lestat smirked.

“She is beautiful, you did good,” Louis nodded.

“Again?”

“Again,” he laughed, sighing as Lestat approached him, pulling him into a hug, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Go now”

Louis hesitantly walked outside, stopping in his tracks, seeing you sit in the grass. Looking up at the bright moon. Clenching his jaw, he forced his legs to move, before he sat next to you, watching your side profile.

“The moon looks nice tonight,” he spoke up.

“It does, doesn’t it. She glows so beautifully, the sun has no choice but to hide from her presence,” you said, your face unmoving from the sky.

“I apologize for how I spoke to you, I want you forever, both of us do. I’m more angry with Lestat than you”

“Don’t be upset with Les, please, he knew I wanted this, and I think it was only a matter of time, before I was begging him next,” you explained.

“I think I’m more angry about the fact that he changed you, and not me,” he said, grinning as you finally looked at him.

“I thought I was protecting you, keeping you from our world, when you fit so perfectly in it — I wish I would have gone through with it,” he admitted.

“It is okay, really, as long as I’m with you both, I am happy,” you said, reaching for his hands.

“Is there anything I can do, to make up for this…”

“Love me, your love is all I ask of you,” you said, accepting his kiss.

“I feel quite excluded, where are my kisses?” Lestat spoke, as he stepped outside.

“If you come any closer, you may end up with more than a kiss, both of you, I feel like the happiest girl alive,” you said, as he moved to the grass, kissing along your neck.

“Then we are starting our eternity together on the right track”

[jjangwonie]

DOUBLE LIFE

DOUBLE LIFE MASTERLIST

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary: With your anonymous Twitter account, you've acquired a pretty good following and popularity, throughout your school as well. Jake, your long-time crush, is one of them, head over heels. Yet when you once confessed to him, he had rejected your confession, saying that he already has his eye on someone else. What happens when he finds out that his online crush is the person that he rejected? And... How are you going to deal with this?

jjangwonie note: FINALLYYYY

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ word count: ~2k

THIRTY TWO - DEFEAT

warnings: angsty, a lot of arguing, poor Riki being a bit harsh :( (I am sorry bby ily), confrontation, crying, yelling, lmk if I missed anything!

"Heeseung-hyung, you better not throw this time," Jake warned playfully. "I saw those stats from yesterday." One by one, all the boys joined the call, ready to start their gaming session.

"Ey, I was testing something," Heeseung defended himself, followed by collective snickers from the others.

But there was an edge to Riki's gameplay today - aggressive pushes, risky peaks, dying early in rounds.

"Riki, what are you doing?" Jake questioned after another failed push. "You're rushing in all alone."

"Maybe if you entered faster instead of backseat gaming," Riki shot back, his tone sharper than usual.

Sunghoon let out a low whistle. "Someone's feisty today," He said, making the rest chuckle. "Probably hungry," Jay joked, trying to ease the tension. "Remember when-"

"Speaking of hungry," Sunghoon interrupted, groaning. "Y/n had ordered a whole feast of takeaway food earlier. Period cravings are no joke."

Jake chuckled. "Oh yeah, how is she? Is she hurting a lot?"

"I don't know, she seemed happy with her food," Sunghoon replied. "She did bring me a big box of chicken."

"Aw, that is so sweet of her man," Jake said fondly, fast typing on the mechanical keyboard in the background coming to a halt for just a second.

Something in Riki's character movement stilled for a moment. His jaw clenched, it was as if he could hear the growing smile on Jake's face through his words. It ticked him off.

"Yeah, so nice. She's a real angel, don't you think?" Riki muttered sarcastically, but it obviously got picked up by his mic.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"Oh, nothing," Riki's character aggressively peaked another corner. "Just funny how you're acting all friendly with y/n lately."

"Uh guys, can we just play? I'm trying to rank up here." Heeseung's request was ignored.

The call went quiet except for the game sounds. Jake's character stopped moving.

"Okay. What is your problem lately?" Jake's voice had an edge to it now. "Ever since the match you've been-"

"My problem?" Riki interrupted. "y/n this, y/n that. So you got stood up by your online friend and you hop on to the next person like it's nothing? What, is it because she reminds you of her?"

"Guys?" Heeseung started.

"No, let him finish," Jake's voice was dangerously quiet. "What exactly are you trying to say?" But it stayed silent.

He scoffed. "Riki, I don't know what your problem is right now. I know she is your best friend but that doesn't give you some kind of claim on who she hangs out with-"

"No, but at least I am not the one crushing on her while still pining over her online account." Riki's voice beamed through the call.

The silence that followed was deafening. Heeseung's sharp intake of breath was audible. Sunghoon and Jay's confused "What?" overlapped each other.

"...What are you talking about?" Jake's voice sounded a little hesitant, more soft. As if he didn't want to get a grasp on what was being said right now.

"Don't act so dense, it doesn't take a genius to see that they're the same freaking person." Riki retorts back, agitation evident in his tone, all reason has flown out the window, too late for him to think about what he said.

Jake's character hasn't moved for a long time, nor had the other ones. "So you're saying she's..." The mutters are heard between Sunghoon and Jay's confusion. Between the words flying into each other about the game or the other, Jake's next words stop everyone from talking.

"I... I need to go," Jake's voice was strange, strained. The disconnect sound followed immediately.

"Riki-" Heeseung started, but another disconnect sound cut him off. Riki was gone too.

The remaining three sat in stunned silence, the game completely forgotten as "DEFEAT" flashed across their screens.

"Someone want to explain what the hell just happened?" Sunghoon's voice broke through the silence.

"Uh, the Twitter account Jake's been obsessing over for months?" Heeseung finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically serious. Reluctantly, he continued. "That's, uh... It's y/n."

The Discord call had gone quiet, save for the sound of aggressive typing. Sunghoon's frustrated growl broke the silence.

"I can't find anything," he muttered, refreshing the page again. "I am not gonna even ask how you know. Heeseung hyung, show me."

Heeseung's hesitation was audible. "Listen, maybe we should-"

"Screen share. Now."

The gentle ping of Heeseung's stream starting filled the call. As he navigated to the profile, Sunghoon's expression grew increasingly tense. Photos of familiar places, glimpses of outfits he recognized, captions that were unmistakably his sister's voice - all accumulated over months without his knowledge. "I am going to talk to my sister. See you guys."

You've ignored the past knocks of Sunghoon, headphones blasting music as you lay on your side, rereading the texts of not long ago.

After you ignored your brother's following incoming texts now, Sunghoon stood outside your door again, his knuckles white against the doorframe. The sounds of sniffling from inside only strengthened his resolve. "Open the door," he repeated, firmer this time.

You swing off the blanket and stomp across the room. The door swung open abruptly. "What?" your voice came out sharp, but Sunghoon didn't miss how you instantly took a step back, arms wrapped around yourself in a self-soothing manner and your eyes were slightly red-rimmed.

"We need to talk about this account," Sunghoon started, stepping into your room with no hesitation. "Do you have any idea how dangerous-"

"I'm not a freaking child, Sunghoon," you cut him off, arms crossed tighter, like armour. But your voice wavered slightly, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

"Clearly you are, if you think posting yourself online like this is okay-" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing the small space between your bed and desk.

"I never showed my face! I'm not stupid!" Your voice rose defensively, but there was a tremor in it now. You backed up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, throwing your head back in frustration.

"That's not the point!" Sunghoon's voice rose to match yours, worry manifesting as anger as he paced mindlessly. "Anyone could-"

You quickly stood up. "I can do whatever I want!" you shot back, hands clenched at your sides. Your whole body was tense, like a string pulled too tight. "I don't need your permission to-"

"You need to think about-"

"I know, okay?" The string snapped. Your voice cracked, words suddenly tumbling out like a dam breaking.

"I know it was stupid, and I know I messed up, and now Jake won't even-" your breathing became erratic, shoulders shaking and your hand flying through your hair. "He texted me saying he needs space and I just-" Your voice hitched, fresh tears spilling over.

That broken sigh broke Sunghoon's eyes from the wall, looking directly at you. You seem so lost, and his shoulders drop, as does his heart.

"I fucked everything up. Now, he probably hates me and-" The last words dissolved into a sob that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside you.

Sunghoon felt all his anger drain away at the sight of his little sister breaking down. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and guided you to sit on the bed. You didn't resist when he pulled you close, one arm around your shoulders. Your body shook with sobs that you tried to muffle in your sleeve.

The room fell quiet except for your soft crying, the angry words from moments ago hanging heavy in the air.

Sunghoon rubbed slow circles on your back, the way he used to when you were little and had nightmares. He felt you gradually lean into him more, and he was thinking about how this isn't just about you having some secret account.

No, this is his little sister actually being hurt about something. That something that involves his best friend having pined on her for months and not knowing about it, yes, and it involves feelings from his best friend towards his little sister and it is messy indeed. But right now, it's you, the focus is on you, and you're hurt.

He sushed you, his chin leaning on your head as he continued rubbing your back. That little secret account was nothing but a pebble compared to the boulder of seeing you hurt and vulnerable, crushing his heart.

Several minutes passed before Sunghoon spoke again, his voice gentle now, all traces of anger gone. "So... you actually like him?"

"...Yeah, maybe..." you mumbled into your sleeve, not meeting his eyes, your voice raw from crying.

"Maybe?" His tone was knowing, gentle in a way that made you look up with your lower lip trembling, and all you see is a concerned him with a knowing glint in his eyes.

You turned to bury your face in his shoulder, fingers clutching his shirt. "I do," you groaned out, the words muffled against his shoulder but clear. "I really do."

After your tearful confession, Sunghoon fell quiet for a moment, still holding you close as you sniffled into his shoulder. Then he let out a small laugh, making you pull back slightly to look at him in confusion.

"You know what's kind of funny?" he started, his voice thoughtful. "All those times Jake wouldn't shut up about this mysterious Twitter girl." You tensed slightly. "God, he was insufferable. Especially when you- well, when she- started responding to his messages."

You wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. "What do you mean?"

"I've never seen him like that before," Sunghoon shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He'd burst into class with this stupid grin, shoving his phone in our faces. 'Look what she said!' 'Guys, she's so funny!' 'Do you think she'd like this?'" He mimicked Jake's excited tone, earning a watery laugh from you. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. When you agreed to meet him at the festival..." Sunghoon trailed off, feeling you stiffen again, so he caressed your head while continuing.

"He was practically bouncing off the walls for days. Wouldn't stop talking about how he was finally going to meet his 'angel.'" He paused, glancing down at you. "Though I guess he kind of already had."

You pulled away slightly, hugging your knees to your chest. "That's different. He likes the Twitter girl, not... not me."

"But you are her, y/n," Sunghoon pointed out gently. "And from what I've seen lately..." He hesitated, wondering if he should share this.

"The way he looked at you when you two were hanging at the festival? Trust me, it's the same look he got whenever he talked about his Twitter girl."

"But now he knows, and he's upset, and-"

"He's probably just as confused as you are," Sunghoon interrupted. "I mean, finding out the girl you've been crushing on online is actually your best friend's little sister who you've also been getting closer to?" He nudged your shoulder.

"Give him some time to process. Jake's... well, he's Jake. Sometimes things take a while to click."

You let out a mix between a laugh and a sob. "When did you get so wise about relationships?"

"Hey, I'm your big brother. It's my job to be wise," he grinned, before his face grew more serious. "Even if I'm still not happy about this whole secret Twitter thing."

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"We'll talk about that later," he sighed, squeezing your arm before standing up. "Right now, I think the little monster needs ice cream more than you need a lecture."

"You can't call me that-" your protesting got cut off because of a pillow hitting your face. "It's been enough time, you shit. I checked."

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[taintandviolent]

Regular ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: You live in Gotham City and are a waitress at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Oz is a regular and you've developed quite the crush on him.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 6.4K | older man/younger woman, semi-established history, making out, cockwarming, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving, dirty talk, smut with a teensy bit of plot (but not really).

a/n: to the 99.9999% of my followers... I'm so sorry but I am begging you guys to hear me out about him!!!! I thoroughly expect this to flop, but I needed to write it for my own sanity. absolutely massive thank you to @redravenblogs for beta-reading! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Ah, Tuesday night. 

In Gotham City, every night is a good night for an Italian restaurant. Especially one that’s been in business since 1964 and acquired a hefty lot of aging locals that know the food is good, and a possibly even longer list of trendy, younger foodies that have heard that food is good because of the aging locals. 

There’s also the… criminal side of the patrons. Have a place with delicious food and wine, and Gotham’s elite underground is sure to follow. You’ve seen your fair share of men who look like they’re here to discuss a deal over a good meal, and a number of elected officials with them. You know better than to meddle, though. You just do your job, and hope for a good tip. Usually, you get one. 

Tonight, it’s raining. Heavily. Surprise, surprise. People flock in from the street as an escape from the deluge outside and the restaurant is filling up quickly. Your section is about three quarters of the way full, and you’re busy. You hear the door open again, followed by the momentary rush of the sound of tires on wet pavement outside. You straighten up, throwing your glance in the way of the entrance. 

There he is. A warm smile spreads across your face as you watch him amble in, shaking the rain from his leather coat. Though his appearances aren’t regular, his habits are. He always sits at the same table in your section, towards the back and next to the corner window. Once he figured out it was in an area you attended to, he never sat anywhere else. 

You only know him as Oz, the big sweetheart of a man who comes in and always orders the chicken parmigiana. Says it’s the best in town. After seeing him a few times, and sneakily taking note of his last name, you took it upon yourself to do a little digging and found out that he’s known for running with Falcone’s gang and that he’s also the owner of the elite Iceberg Lounge. You never bring those things up to him in fear of starting a conversation he doesn’t want to finish. It’s really none of your business, anyway. You give him a moment to settle into the booth, but once he does – you’re immediately headed that way. 

“There she is,” he starts with a smile, watching you as you make your way over to the table, pulling your order notebook from your apron pocket. “There’s my girl.” 

A blush hits your cheek – it does every time. From day one, he flirted with you, harmlessly and has continued it ever since. You’re used to patrons being a little flirtatious, but something about the way Oz does it makes your stomach tighten. 

“Buonasera, Oz…” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. In the year you’ve worked here, you’ve picked up a little Italian, but the appropriate greetings are mandated by management. “How you doin’?” 

“Better now.” 

You smile again and dip your chin to your chest shyly. He’s always so affectionate, so warm. For being a guy who meddles in Gotham’s seedy underbelly, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met.

“The usual?” 

He nods. “The usual, sweetheart. But gimme’ a side of fettuccine tonight, huh?” 

You scribble the order down, and snap your book shut. “You got it.”

“What time you off tonight, doll?” 

“Same as every night, Oz. In about an hour.”

“They keepin’ you late every night, huh?” 

“Yeah, but a girl’s gotta’ eat.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head and shifts in the booth before looking up at you. “I keep tellin’ ya, I could take care uh ya, baby.”

The running joke, but sometimes you wonder if he’s serious. He always tips you generously, alarmingly so, and it’s always put directly in your hand, as though he doesn’t want anyone else knowing that he takes care of your groceries for the week.

“And I keep sayin’ I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“Ahh–!” He jerks his head to the side, dismissing those words. 

You reach forward to touch his broad shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Let me put your order in, honey. I’ll be right back with your wine.” 

With that, you walk proudly off towards the back, swaying your hips. You can feel Oz’s eyes on you as you go and maybe the way you move is intentional, because you know he’s watching. So, what if it was? Can you really blame a girl for liking the attention?

As you round the corner to the kitchen, you clear your throat and call out to the cooks. Angelo is working tonight, and he’s one of the few guys who knows about your little affinity for Oz. As soon as you pin the ticket, Angelo spins the wheel around, looking at the order. He recognizes it, and gives you a knowing smile. 

“Oh, look who’s back, eh?” 

“Quiet,” you hush, looking back towards the table. You can’t see it from this angle, but you know he’s there, sitting, probably on his phone, or tapping his big knuckles on the wood of the table. 

He looks at the sheet again, noticing the addition, and raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend’s hungry tonight.” 

“Angelo, will you quit it? He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Sugar daddy then, eh?” 

You scoff, giving him the finger before reaching for one of the bottles of wine – Oz’s favorite.

You return to his table with a skip in your step. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen him, and you can’t help the giddiness in your gait. As you bump your plush hip into the corner of the table, Oz grins crookedly at you, his gold teeth glinting in the low lighting of the restaurant. You reach into your apron, pulling out a corkscrew. 

“So, whatcha’ been up to, Oz?” You say, as you twist the prong into the cork. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Ah, y’know… business as usual.”

He usually gives you an answer like that – something that doesn’t reveal too much about what he does. You wonder if he knows that you’ve looked into him. You suddenly furrow your brow at the cork – it’s being stubborn – and quickly situate the bottle between your legs, squeezing it tight between your thighs. This action isn’t lost on Oz, who watches you with a deeply interested grin, watching how your skirt rides up just slightly at the front, not enough to reveal anything aside from some of your creamy soft thigh flesh. Everything you do is done with such innocence, but there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to him, he thinks. After a moment of yanking, the cork finally gives way with a hollow POP and you grip the bottle, bringing it up to the table. You mutter a quiet apology and fill the glass, pulling the bottle back to wipe the edge on your apron.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Always is.” 

Someone calls your name from behind you, and it’s one of the other tables, looking for refills. You offer Oz an apologetic smile, and head in that direction. Sadly, you don’t return until his food is ready.  He’s extra present tonight; your eyes meet every time you look in his direction, giving him a timid smile and going about your tasks, but your heart flutters with an adoration for the older man. You’re attentive too, and go over to his table a million and a half times to ask how the food is, if he needs anything else. 

“Only you, doll.” 

You swat playfully at his shoulder, though the little quip has heat pooling in your core. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about him taking you over the table a handful of times; lustfully imagining what his hips would feel like rutting against your ass as he sunk himself inside of you. You constantly wondered what his cock looked like. He was a big man, and you assumed that rang true for all parts of him – but the hunger to find out was terrible.  

He’s one of the last ones to leave, lingering as long as he can before it’s considered rude. Tonight, something’s different about him, like something is on his mind, something he wants to say. Each time you’re at his table, he looks like he’s about to ask, but never does. Finally, as you return to clear his table, reaching for the empty plates on his table, he downs the rest of his wine and clears his throat. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says, pivoting slightly in the booth with some effort. “You uh, you busy after work?” 

“N-no.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You straighten up, holding the stacked plates with one flattened palm.

“Why don’t you come down to the Iceberg Lounge? Unwind a little.”

“Oh, Oz, I’m not much of a clubbing girl.” 

There’s a glimmer of disappointment in those dark eyes of his, but he sets his jaw, and gets to his feet. This puts him in your proximity, and you can feel the heat rolling off his large body. Your stomach aches to lean into him, press yourself into his gut, and lace your arms around his neck.

“Just think ‘bout it.” He reaches in his pocket. 

The tip he gives you tonight almost makes your knees give way. It feels thicker than usual in your left hand and when your fingers close around the bills, you swallow down the protests. You don’t dare count it, not in front of him or anyone else. You’ve stopped telling him no, or that he doesn’t have to, because it’s almost like it offends him. He always hushes you, and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You tuck it in the pocket of your apron, and swallow hard again. 

He smiles and steps around you. Your eyes are glued to the visual of him leaving, watching him through the windows as he limps down the sidewalk. God, you want him. It’s a lethal hunger, something that claws and rips at your insides. 

Once the restaurant is empty, you and the rest of the crew make quick work of cleaning up and closing up shop. It’s about forty-five minutes later when you’re slipping your arms into the sleeves of your black, wool overcoat and heading through the door. The rain hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse. You heave a sigh. You’ve got a walk ahead of you, but it’s something you’re used to. 

“Doll!” 

You stop walking, poised just at the end of the sidewalk. You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and pull your jacket right around your neck, squinting into the rain. 

“Oz? That you?” You take a step in that direction, knowing full well it is. Your casual act is embarrassing to you, but you persist, pretending you’re surprised to see him getting out of his car. It’s a nice one, too… a Maserati. Was he… waiting for you?

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “You ain’t walkin’ home in this, are ya?”

“Just to the station,” You defend. 

“Nah. C’mon.” He limps around the front of his car, rain splattering against his leather coat. “Lemme’ give ya’ a ride.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Really. The rain is brutal and you’re cold, a chill settling into your bones. You hurry towards the plum-coloured car, your high heels clacking against the wet pavement as you do. Oz opens and holds the door for you, waiting patiently for you to make your way over. You get in the car gracefully, making sure not to flash him, though, you doubt he’d mind if you did. It’s warm inside, the heat is on, and the leather interior has absorbed some of that heat. You snuggle into the seat, watching in the rearview as Oz makes his way back around the car, and for a moment you’re surrounded by nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and the shlick of the wiper blades as they whisk the droplets off the windshield. The driver’s side door opens, and he tucks himself in. Droplets of rain decorate his shoulders, and he smears his hand over his hair. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” He asks, a familiarity in his voice. He’s used to driving people around, but he’d drive you around the whole city if you asked. 

“The complex on the corner of 7th and Onyx…” you say, almost sheepishly. Sure, it’s not the best part of town, but your little apartment is cozy, overlooking the city. You imagine he’s used to much nicer, and is probably silently judging the location. 

“Oz,” you start, looking at the girth of his fingers as they wrap around the steering wheel. Your mind starts to wander, but you quickly reign it in with a hard blink and an inhalation of breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, doll. Anything you want.” 

“Were you waiting for me to get off work?”

 “Gotta’ look out for my favorite girl, y’know?” 

It’s an indirect answer, but an answer all the same. You smile to yourself as he eases his foot into the gas pedal, the car moving forward. His right hand departs from the steering wheel to turn on the radio. Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice fills the inside, and for the rest of the drive, you’re silent, occasionally stealing looks at Oz as he drives. He handles the car beautifully, and you wonder if he handles a woman as well. 

Oz is sweet. You know this. Despite his constant heavy flirting at the restaurant, he’s sweet, charming and at times, awkward. Endearingly so. But you aren’t taking pity on him. Your interest in him is purely selfish, driven by your lust for older, dangerous men. You inhale a deep breath and turn your attention to the road. You’re close to home. A few minutes later, he pulls up next to your building and puts the car in park. 

You reposition yourself to face him, shifting your feet underneath you. He’s watching you, those smoldering, dark eyes following your every move. Carefully, you lean over the center console, enough to close in the distance between you two and press your lips against his warm, scarred cheek. His aftershave wafts into your nose, and you take a deep breath of it, remembering it. You think you hear his breath hitching. 

“That’s for the ride, Oz.” 

“Shit, I oughta’ drive you ‘round more often if that’s what it gets me, huh?” 

You hesitate a moment, looking into his eyes. There’s that look again –  like he wants to ask something. You fill the void with another question. 

“Is our chicken parm really the best, or do you just come for me?” 

Oz’s thick brows flick up on his forehead and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “Sweetheart...” 

“Do you come for me?” 

Now he’s really looking at you, squinting at you. Hearing that question repeated has him twitching in his goddamn slacks. He looks out to the rain, then back to you and you’re still staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“If you only fuckin’ knew,” he chokes out.

“Well.. what if I wanna’ know?” 

“Doll,” he grins and laughs, almost nervously. It’s loveable and you can’t help but smile, your gaze fixated on his scarred mouth as he speaks. You aren’t staring negatively, quite the contrary. Like everything else unusual about him, you find his scars sexy. 

“You don’t gotta’... y’know, do that.”

You smile again, letting your lids close slightly. He thinks you’re doing this because you’re what? Paying him back for all the tips? Treating him like a charity case? Hysterical. If he only knew.

“Answer my question, Oz. What if I wanna’ know?”

He shifts in his seat. Uncomfortable? You can’t tell. 

“Then uh… I ain’t gonna’ deny you that. Find out.”

You lean back over, and instead of kissing his cheek, you tilt your head and go for his mouth, your soft, plush lips pressing against his. He doesn’t respond… not right away, at least. He’s stunned, but also trying not to devour you like some goddamned hungry animal. Finally, his lips twitch to life, pressing back against yours. 

He ain’t used to this. But, fuck, it feels good. 

As his mouth opens, his large hand comes up to the side of your face, holding you where you’re at. The cool chill of the band of his ring is a stark contrast against the warmth of his digits. His fingertips graze the edge of your hairline, massaging gently. The taste of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating, the wine lingering on his breath mingles with his own personal notes. You let an open-mouthed moan fall from your throat, into his, and he reciprocates, moving his body slightly towards you. Your tongue slips along his bottom lip, pausing to nibble at it softly. He groans deep, his eyes rolling back in his head. You’re getting him stiff, worked up and all you’re fuckin’ doin’ is kissin’ him.   

This is getting heavy. You feel your own arousal burning between your legs, a fiery, throbbing heartbeat that gets more incessant the longer his tongue is in your mouth, tasting you. Oz is practically taking you in mouthfuls, and your hand crawls over the center console, just far enough that your fingernails scrape against the fabric of his slacks, over his thigh. A desperate attempt to get closer to him without just straddling him in his front seat. 

A deep rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning pulls you two from each other. You lurch away, panting, and look out through the front windshield. The rain comes down harder, and you can hardly make out the outlines of the buildings in front of you. 

“I should… probably go inside before this gets any worse.”

You aren’t sure if you’re talking about the rain or the mutual arousal. Maybe both. He clears his throat in response; he wants to tell you that you’re a cruel woman, leaving him like this, but with the taste of you still on his tongue, he ain’t about to push his luck and get greedy. He unlocks the doors from the panel on his left. You open the door and get out, dragging your bag with you. You lean back inside, looking at him with dreamy, half-lidded eyes. 

“I’ll see you, Oz. Thanks for the ride.” 

But not the kiss? You cringe at your words. There’s that look again – but this time, you know he wants to ask you if you’re coming down to the Lounge later. You know it, and you’ve already made up your mind. 

Instead, he shrugs with both of his shoulders. “Sure, sweetheart. Any time. I mean that.” 

With butterflies in your stomach, you exit the car, and shut the door, careful not to slam it. You hold your purse above your head as you run to the front door and you hear the roar of Oz’s engine as he speeds off. The second you’re inside, you kick off your heels at the door and hurry to the back of the apartment. You flip the lightswitch, illuminating the modest bedroom. You pull the dress from the back of your closet, half expecting a cloud of dust to come with it.  

Thank god it still fits. 

You catch a cab downtown, which is much less luxurious than your previous ride. It drops you off in front, and the line to get in stretches down the length of the building. You knew it was a popular place, but you hadn’t expected this. The rain, nor the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening, deters these patrons – whatever’s inside must really be something. You pull your dress down your thighs, and walk carefully up onto the sidewalk. Deciding to try your luck with the bouncers, you bypass the line, trying not to look at anyone to your right. If you stand in line, you won’t be inside for hours. 

Two men – identical twins – stand in front of the door.

“Can we help you?” One of them asks, sternly. You don’t take offense, they’re only doing their job. 

“Um…” You blurt out your name, adding, “Oz asked me to come.” 

One of the men speaks into a small mic attached to the lapel of his jacket, covering it with his hand. It’s only a moment before one of them opens the door and the music goes from muffled to booming, vibrating your bones. You mutter a quick thanks, and step inside, feeling like you’ve just cheated the system. The visual that meets you truly overwhelms you at first, and you hesitate. 

It’s a staggeringly massive venue, filled with undulating bodies. The building itself is industrial in nature, all steel and flashing red lights. The dance floor stretches as far as your eyes can see, a literal sea of human beings, all grinding against each other, feeling the music in their veins. You stand, stunned at the start of the crowd, unsure of where to go.

After a moment, you lift your gaze and your eyes meet for the hundredth time that night. Oz stands on the second floor, on almost a catwalk above the crowds. He looks like he did at the restaurant, save for the leather jacket which was replaced by a white suit jacket; he’s wearing the same purple shirt and black slacks. Your shoulders relax, knowing that whatever happens next will be something you remember for the rest of your life.

He doesn’t make it a secret of how he’s checking you out, a devilish sneer on his face. He’s only ever seen you in your waitress outfit, which let it be known, is sexy enough on its own, but this plunging number that gives him a peek at your cleavage, and hugs your hips in ways he could only dream of… He deepens his grin and jerks his head to the side, urging you up. You follow his gaze and clock the staircase to your left. You make a beeline for it, holding the chain of your purse in a fist and climb the steel staircase carefully, until you get to the platform that Oz is standing on. 

“Hi!” You shout over the pulsing music. You’re giddy, like a schoolgirl. It’s embarrassing, really. 

“I gotta’ be honest, doll, I didn’t think I’d see you.” he confesses, leaning into your ear. His voice is rough, but enticing. He pulls back, gauging your reaction. You stare at him for a moment, saying nothing, prolonging the moment and torturing him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes flick down to watch. Something he does a lot, you notice. 

“What?” you ask, leaning into him. “After what happened in the car?” 

When you pull back to look at him, there’s a bemused smile on your face. Confident. Cocky. Like there was an unspoken contest of who would mention it first and you won. He shrugs lightly, huffing out a laugh. You reach for his cheek, palming it softly. Oz keeps his composure, even though inside, he wants to lean into it and whimper like a dog. He’s glad he doesn’t though. 

“I’m the one who kissed you, remember? It’s not like you did anything to offend me, Oz.” you coo.

“I ‘spose not, huh?” 

You nod, slowly, coyly. 

“The chicken parm,” he says suddenly, shrugging with his hands. “It ain’t bad. But I guess you’ve figured out the real reason why I come there, huh?”  

You laugh brightly, looking over the railing at the throngs of people below you, neon red lights washing over them in time with the music. You smile softly, feeling special. It’s not every day that you get private access to an elite club in Gotham City and get to schmooze with the owner. 

“Come upstairs with me.” Feeling like your attention is drifting from him, Oz takes your hand, guiding you in the direction of yet another flight of stairs. Your eyes trail up the steps; they lead to a loft, glass windows on every side. 

You’re stone cold sober, so you can’t blame the alcohol, but the second you’re in his office, above the crowds, above it all, you’re on him like a bear on honey. Your hands smear over his chest, fingers grazing through the hair that peeks out from his open shirt. He smells like cigars and an expensive cologne that you take lungfuls of. 

“You're an eager girl, aren’t ya?” 

“Yeah, Oz… I am.” You reply breathlessly, kissing a path along his bottom lip and chin. 

“How long have you felt this way, huh?” 

You finally pull back, and lick your lips, watching him intently. You knew he was a talker from the restaurant, always chatting. But right now, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. “Uhm…” Your chest heaves visibly, and Oz has to fight to keep his eyes on yours. “The first or second time you came into Bellini…” 

“Ah, c’moooon!” he says, incredulously. 

“No, I’m serious!” You laugh a little, moving your head to try and keep Oz’s gaze. He looks off behind you for a moment, and when he returns his attention to you, his expression is serious.

“Chicks like you don’t go after guys like me –”

You bristle and take his face in your hands. “Chicks like me? What do you know about chicks like me, Oz? You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” 

He sidesteps that with another question. “What, you like older guys or somethin’?” 

“They’re better…” You say in between tiny kisses. “They know better. They’re more experienced. Guys my age…” You pause to run a finger along his lip. “They don’t know how to take care of women.”

Oz smiles. It’s a dirty, devious smile, and it sends a pulse to your core. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and he brings his hand up to the curve of your shoulder. “You want me to take care of ya, baby? Is that what you’re sayin’?” 

You nod. A little too enthusiastically, maybe. 

“It’s a busy club, sweetheart.” He says, almost nonchalantly, as though his slacks aren’t tenting in between both of you. 

But… he has a point. You hum quietly. 

“Later, then? Give me a tour of the club and – “ Your voice trails off because Oz looks like he’s just gotten an idea. He smirks, and his hand grips your hip, pulling you close to his gut. “What?” 

“How’s about you sit on it, huh?” 

Your head turns, gaze heavily resting on the room across the way. You assume it’s for the dancers of the club. Whatever it is – it’s right there. You glance at it nervously, and your expression reads strong, apparently, because Oz chuckles next to you, and brings his hand to your jaw, forcing it back in his direction. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay. They ain’t gonna’ know a thing.” 

His hand drops from your jaw to your waist, where his thumb swipes circles over your dress. His hand sweeps around to the back, where your skin is exposed, and begins stroking patterns over the skin, igniting tiny fires wherever he touches. You lean forward, pressing your mouth against his again, hungry for his taste again. After a few minutes, Oz pulls away, ending the foreplay. He turns and ambles to the leather sofa angled in front of the window and you follow, taking slow, careful steps. One foot in front of the other. 

Once he’s seated, you lift your dress just enough to grip the delicately stretchy lace of your panties on either side, and carefully pull them down the curve of your ass. Oz is watching, his brown eyes locked on the tantalizing visual in front of him. You discard them on the sofa cushion, not thinking about where they land. Oz watches though, and his large hand snakes out, fisting them and discreetly tucking them into the pocket of his slacks. If you asked, he would’ve told you that he didn’t want anyone fuckin’ seein’ ‘em. The reality was that his perversions were too loud, and he was going to take a token of this dream he was experiencing.  

Oz reaches down, unlatching his slacks, and pulling the zip down just enough to reach in and pull his aching cock free. As you lower yourself, he lines it up, watching intently. You whimper his name, feeling the cockhead nudge your entrance. 

“Easy, sweetheart, easy. That’s it, nice n’ slow.” He licks his lips. 

At first, you nestle yourself down onto his thick cock gradually. The fat, leaking head pops in first, sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitches in your throat, and instead of sliding yourself down his shaft slowly, with a huff, you slam your ass down hard. You’re sitting all the way down on Oz’s wide lap, stuffing the rest of him in. He’s thicker than he is long, but god, it’s everything you thought it would be. He vocalizes, surprised at your determination. You still, letting your walls accommodate the girth of the man beneath you. 

“Hoo, baby...” 

The tiniest little movements have him clenching his jaw, hissing through his teeth. And then… with his hand casually holding onto your hip, Oz starts to rut his hips up into you. It’s just enough to rock your body up and down and move his cock inside you. 

He grunts underneath you, his grasp tightening on the satin of your dress. He craves skin, and his hand slides into the space between your dress and your back. You can’t help but let out the tiniest of whimpers at the feeling of being so full – you don’t remember the last time you were stretched like that. Your dress pools, hanging heavy between your legs and concealing your leaking core. 

Abruptly, the collective sound of high heels approaches, and your eyes snap up to the glass windows. A group of girls crowds the room parallel, and the second one of them spots you two, they’re heading your way. Oz stops moving. 

“Alright… quiet, doll.” He slaps your hip a few times. It’s a warning, and one you immediately heed, straightening up, tucking your hips into a more natural sitting position. His cock twitches inside you, and you swallow back the noise that bubbles up your throat. 

“Ozzy,” the girls coo in unison. One of them has a martini in her hand and asks who you are. God, they’re all so beautiful, you think. Insecurity threatens, but the stretching between your legs calms it.

Leaning to the side to meet their gaze, he tells them your name, proudly – the bastard – and you wave, sheepishly, trying not to allude to the fact that Oz’s girthy cock is buried inside you. Maybe they know. Maybe he’s done this before. You swallow hard, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“We was just havin’ a meeting. She’s thinkin’ of workin’ here.” A bold faced lie, but it distracts the women from looking too hard at the scene in front of them. They all titter excitedly, delighted by the prospect of having another friend to play with.  

“Oz takes real good care of us,” one of them chimes in, earnestly. “You’d love it here.” 

You clench around his cock as hard as you can, your internal muscles squeezing him in a vice. You smile as naturally as you can at the girls as Oz continues speaking casually. The man’s poker face must be insane because he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t give away a single thing. 

“Alright, alright. Girls, what am I payin’ ya for, huh? Get down there.” 

In a flurry of nods and apologies, the women disperse, heading back down to the throbbing club below them. The sound of their high heels clicking down the stairs fades away, replaced by the dull, muffled thrumming of the music below. As soon as you two are alone again, Oz bucks his hips up into you hard, almost painfully, pulling a low groan from your throat.

“Tell me how good that feels, sweetheart. Tell me.” The roughness of his voice, the harshness of his accent makes everything sound intense, but the desperation in which he asks that isn’t lost on you. He’s practically begging you to tell him, revealing a deep-rooted hunger for praise. You wet your throat, and lean your head back onto his shoulder, bringing your hand up around to the back of his wide neck; the flesh is warm and damp with sweat.

“It feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah…” You close your eyes, wincing slightly at the way his cock bullies you and stretches you open. “So good, Oz. I’ve thought about this… so many times.”

His hips rut up into you, finding a hungry, incessant rhythm and your slick walls clench around him. The action brings a choking grunt from his mouth, and your ego swells with the control. An idea blossoms. You straighten up; setting your hips and grinding them back and forth on his lap. Beneath you, Oz moans, his grip on you tightening. You feel his large body shudder, and a cocky smile curls its way around your lips. 

“You like that, Oz? You like me fucking you like that?” 

He nods, breathlessly, reaching up to palm the sweat that drips into his brow. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, arching your body against his. 

“I l-like the way you’re fuckin’ me. It feels real fuckin’ good… ” He grumbles, pleased. “Feelin’ that tight pussy uh yours… like heaven, doll.” 

You whine at that, loving the way it sounds coming from his mouth. Your hips gyrate, continuing their ruthless pattern on his cock. His hand strays from your hip and juts between your legs, finding your cunt. His thick fingers slip between your folds, stroking you just enough to drive your orgasm closer to the edge. You whimper, tossing your head back. 

Oz’s gaze drops from your back to your ass, watching as the flesh swells when you push back against him. God damn. It’s a perfect fuckin’ view, and he sucks in a deep breath. Every muscle in his body tightens, even if he ain’t ready for that.  

“Aw, fuck–” he grunts, low. Deep in his stomach, his muscles clench, trying hard to stave off the oncoming orgasm. His eyes open, focusing on the ceiling, the sound of the music, anything except for the way you’re ridin’ him. It ain’t workin’, because he feels his whole body tense up. Fuck. 

His hand goes slack between your legs and you grit your teeth, bringing your brows together in a pained expression. The dual stimulation was nice, but the way his cock massages your walls, stretching them out and filling you in a way that has you gasping is enough to drive you mad. You’re thankful that the music is so loud beneath you, because your desperate mewls and whines are getting higher and higher in pitch. Oz mutters something, something filthy about filling you and you drive your hips back against him. And with that, he loses it. He thrusts his hips up into you a few times, with a frenzied sort of desperation. You feel the heat painting your insides, coating your walls in his ecstasy. Underneath you, Oz’s thrusts have turned languid and lazy. He’s silently justifying the too-quick orgasm with the fact that he had to; anyone could’ve walked in at any time. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s been like a slobbering dog for you for months. 

Chest heaving, your hips continue rutting back and forth, and Oz shifts underneath you, still panting heavily. It’s tender, but he doesn’t complain. His thrusts continue to slow and you desperately reach between your legs, tapping his hand back to life. “D-don’t stop Oz, please… don’t stop…” 

Behind you, Oz chuckles under his breath and straightens up, having sunk back into the sofa a little too far when he lost it. His thick index finger strokes your clit upwards, and a shiver rips through your body. The coil in your stomach winds tighter as you settle into the oncoming feeling. Still full of him, your slick walls shudder around his cock as the first wave hits. The coil snaps, your thighs clamp shut around his hand, and you look down, sighing loud as he continues flicking between your folds. One of your hands is situated on his thigh, and the other comes to grip his wrist, feeling the cuban link chain beneath your palm.

“That’s it, sweetheart… that’s it…” As you ride it out, bucking your hips against his groin, he coaxes you through your orgasm, both vocally and with the way he massages your clit, the pad of his index finger pressing into it. You can hear the pride in his voice, it’s absolutely dripping with it. “Atta’ girl. Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out. You furiously nod your head as your legs begin to tremble. He doesn’t stop, and your immediate reaction is to dig your nails into the flesh of his hand, silently begging. 

“You good, doll?” 

“Y-yeah. I’m… wow.” 

Oz removes his hand from between your legs, and strokes the side of your thigh, gently. Tenderly. For a moment, you stay like that, just enjoying all of the post-coital sensations. Eventually, you get to your feet, curious about how the patrons downstairs are faring. Speaking of dripping… You swallow hard, and press your thighs together. 

While still in front of Oz, you straighten yourself out, pulling your dress back down over your hips. Now, you’re suddenly aware of the throbbing beat beneath your feet and make your way over to the window. 

“How about that tour?” You ask, running a nail along the glass that overlooks the dancefloor below you. After a few moments, you feel Oz’s presence behind you, his stomach pressing into the curve of your back. 

“I thought you weren’t a clubbin’ girl…” he murmurs throatily, in between kisses to your neck. You tilt your head, allowing more space for him to smother. 

“Well,” you confess, honesty tinging your voice. “I’m not. But it’s not every day you get invited to the most elite nightclub in Gotham City.” You shrug. “Might as well.”

[zomtart]

Unknown (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Hey y’all! So one of my favorite things to do writing wise is pick one of my favorite songs, listen to it on repeat, and write a fic to it lmao. So here’s that with Matt Murdock and my favorite song of all time, Unknown/Nth by Hozier. All writing is mine but of course the italized words are lyrics from Unknown/Nth, which belongs to the one and only Hozier (and Matt Murdock and co belongs to Marvel) <3 

I’m so sorry for the ending this was not supposed to end angsty but I had a prophetic vision I had to listen to it

Warnings: religious imagery to describe love, canon typical injuries/violence, death

Word Count: 1.2k

It ain’t the being alone

It ain’t the empty home, baby

You know I’m good on my own

You know, it’s more the being unknown

Sometimes, you terrified him.

You would say something, or do something, and he felt so…seen. Naked, stripped of any mask that protected him. You would never lay a hand on him, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any less horrifying. The fact that you could reach past any suit of armor, beat him to any punch, because you knew him. Sometimes it felt like you knew him even better than he knew himself. You saw past his attempts to push people away, to act cold and be alone. He’d try, time and time again, to convince both of you that he was better off by himself. It never worked. You weren’t scared away, and you had a way of making Matt feel like he…deserved to be in the company of you. To not be some anonymous figure drifting through the city. 

It was a shitty morning. It was too cold outside, numbing the edges of his fingers and the tips of his ears. He could feel the blood rushing to his nose, his body’s futile attempts to keep him warm. He was so cold he almost missed the scent of freshly brewed coffee coming from the office.

“Morning,” you said nonchalantly, gently taking his left hand and wrapping it around what he knew was a coffee cup. He felt frozen in place, but forced his mind to blame it on the weather. He could already smell it, but he took a sip before commenting.

“Peppermint mocha?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You hummed in response, already looking over the new papers on your desk.

“How’d you know?”

You just laughed a little, taking a sip of your own drink. “We’ve gotten coffee before, Matthew. My memory isn’t that terrible.”

It wasn’t the fact that you said his full name. It was how you said it. Softly and…reverantly. He’d compare it to a prayer, but it was more holy than that.

He murmured a thanks and tried to relax. Wow, he felt like it was losing it, and for what? Because you knew his coffee order? The four of you have gotten coffee together before for company meetings. You probably remembered Karen and Foggy’s order just the same. It meant nothing.

~

You called me “angel” for the first time, my heart leapt from me

You smile now, I can see it’s pieces still stuck in your teeth

And what’s left of it, I listen to it tick

Every tedious beat

When you discovered he was Daredevil, he expected a lot of things. Confusion. Betrayal. Anger, most of all. He never expected you to…laugh.

He was exhausted. Far too exhausted to do anything but stumble into his apartment, not realizing you had snuck in to surprise him for his birthday. It was a bit past midnight and you stood in his living room with a cake, confused at his absence. You were about to call Foggy to make sure he was okay when he stumbled in with a broken nose and too many bruises to count. You shrieked and dropped the cake, rushing to grab the knife on the counter to defend yourself against…

“...Matt?” you said incredously, setting the knife down and inching forward. He was in too much pain to realize the consequences of what ensued, and he could only let it happen, limping to the couch before he collapsed on top of it. 

You set the knife down and ran to kneel in front of him. You looked him over, at all his injuries and the way his exhausted eyelids drooped downwards. 

“You stupid man…” you whispered, cradling his face upwards, drops of his blood sinking into your palm. “You…you’re…”

“Halloween costume.” he managed, and you laughed, a watery, broken, sound that echoed throughout the apartment he lived alone in. 

You shook your head. “T-the Devil doesn’t take breaks? Even on his birthday?”

“Heard someone…they needed help.”

“You’re blind.” you whispered, looking back to his sightless eyes to confirm. “How…?”

He didn’t answer, just leaned into your hand that still held onto his jaw. After a moment his nose twitched. “Did you..get me cake?”

“Yeah. Happy birthday.” you said quietly with another laugh. The sound was like a balm to his wounds. It was better than any gift he could have asked for. “How did you know?” “It’s a…a lot to explain. We’d be here all night.”

“Don’t tempt me, angel.” you winked. Then you simply got up and left to get a first aid kit, as if you hadn’t left his heart beating out of his chest. 

That night, you didn’t ask anymore questions. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was so beat up, or because you were in shock, or because of what day it was. You bandaged him up and got him to bed. When you were satisfied with the amount of blankets he had you lit a single candle and sang Happy Birthday. Your soft voice was slightly off-tune, and the melody was occasionally interrupted with little laughs by the both of you, but to him it was perfect.

It meant everything. 

~

There are some people, love, who are better unknown. 

He had learned to regret that night. In hindsight, he should have known. He should have known that letting you find out his true identity would put you at risk. He should have known he wasn’t able to protect you, wasn’t able to protect anyone who got close to him. He had put on the suit to help people, but he knew now it only made him an omen. If the Devil was near, death would ensue. 

He should have known.

He should have heard the gun reloading and your footsteps pounding to jump in front of him. He should have never let you be there in the first place. You were dead, and the beating of his fists against your murderer could do nothing to bring you back. He killed for the first time that night, and he was all too aware of the irony. The person who knew him best was gone, and if she weren’t she would not even recognize him.

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[4: guess i have a type]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: you begin to recognize some similarities between ellie and good ol’ spidey… guess you have a type, huh?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Beep, beep, beep!!

You wake up with a grumble, last nights— er, this morning’s activities had done a number on you.. you weren’t used to so much excitement.

“What time is it?” you mumble against your pillow as you fumble for your phone, the bright light guiding your hand under the sheets, “Gotta call Gwen later.. let’s see.. FUCK!”

You scramble outta bed, tossing the blankets off you and your cat as well, who hissed at you very angrily for disturbing his fourth nap of the morning.

“S-Sorry,” you say to your cat as you scramble to the restroom, quickly brushing your teeth and rushing through your skincare routine. You decided to forgo the makeup today and instead just apply some light mascara and fix your brows up, maybe add some concealer.. and blush.. and maybe just a litt—, “No time!” you scold yourself.

You set your makeup bag down and run for the closet, rummaging around for .. “Ah, there it is!”

You snap the cheap metal buttons of your uniform together, the yellow polo with a red collar and pocket hugging your torso quite nicely, well, as nicely as a 30 year old uniform could, then you slid on the matching red skirt, your tights for extra warmth, shoes, and you can’t forget your name tag that read ‘Mary Jane.’

You quickly feed your cat some snacks, apologizing over and over as he ate and then made your way out. As you ran down the stairs, you pulled your trench coat on tight around you, hiding any part of your uniform.. you weren’t embarrassed about working at a diner but you knew your so-called friends, coworkers, and classmates wouldn’t be so understanding.. after all, you are from a well off family, so it would look funny.. besides, you don’t need anymore rumours going around about you.

As you’re about to round a corner, you bump into an all too familiar someone.

“Woah, slow down,” Ellie chuckled, her hands on your waist to stop you from toppling over.

“O-Oh, morning, Ellie..” you blushed, the memories of last night still fresh, you pulled the coat even tighter, you sure as hell did not want her to see you in this dorky uniform.

“Where you off to? You seem to be in a rush,” she commented, her eyes lingering on your form but before you could answer, your bus was pulling up.

“Sorry, Ellie, uh, chat later? I really gotta go!”

Ellie knew exactly where you were off to, she had stopped by that diner the other day to check out the schedule.. they should really get a better security system, she thought.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I know, I know! I’m sorry Darlene, I had a late nig—.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Missy! Just get out there and start taking orders, okay?”

You nod, thankful she didn’t give you another lecture. You liked Darlene, she was like a really cool mom.. who smoked a lot.. and drank a lot.. but she let you keep all your tips so she wasn’t so bad, you gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Thanks, Ma.”

Darlene was like a mom to everyone in the diner, she treated everyone like they were one of her own, it was nice being apart of a ‘family.’

Your morning was full of truckers asking for refills on coffee, business men asking for the paper, ladies of the night coming in after a wild night, and.. Ellie?

“Morning” she smiled at your coworker as she seated her, that goofy lopsided smile made your heart flutter a bit.. actually, you couldn’t tell if it was her smile that was making your heart flutter or if it was the idea of being found out.

You had to hold back a gasp as you dove behind the counter, praying she didn’t see you and as you crawled your way into the kitchen, so close to freedom.. Darlene rounded the corner..

“The hell..? What are you doing down there?” she prodded you with her foot.

You put a finger to your lips and gestured for her to come lean down, she reluctantly did so, grumbling about her knees, “Darlene, can I please, please, please go on my 15 minute break? A girl I lik— uh, know is here..”

“Your break now? You can’t take that until.. another hour!” She pulled you up by your collar, like a mama cat carrying it’s kitten by the scruff.

“Please!”

“No, no way.”

“What if I said I’ve taken up smoking, huh? Then you LEGALLY have to let me take a break.”

“You? You take up smoking?” she scoffed, “Nice try princess, get out there, now.”

You whimpered and straightened your apron as she shoved you out of the kitchen, when Darlene said now, she meant yesterday.

Before the door could swing shut, Darlene poked her head out, “Oh, and we’re changing your section.. you’re now serving tables 11-17.” you could feel the shit eating grin’s aura as she laughed her way back into the kitchen.

God fucking damn it.

“Morning..” you mumbled as you pulled out your notepad, “What can I get you.. Ellie?”

Ellie’s eyes lit up as she laid them on you, “Hey, uh, Mary Jane?”

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want?”

“Hey, hey, slow down! Hm.. what can you recommend MJ?”

“The waffles here are pretty good.”

“I’ll have that then, oh, and coffee, too. Five cream and five sugar.”

You laugh, “Are you serious?”

She stared at you with a deadpan look, “Yeah?”

“Oh my god.. you are.. Ellie, that’s, like, a lot of sugar.. literally diabetes in a cup.”

“I don’t like the taste of coffee.. tastes like burnt shit.”

You scoff, “Then why do you drink it?”

“Keeps me up.”

“You don’t need the caffeine, just take the five sugar packets and you’ll probably still run the same since you’re already drinking sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Shut up, just get me my coffee,” she mumbled.

When you had served Ellie her food and coffee, you expected her to leave right after like every other customer ever but no.. like always, Ellie had to differentiate herself from the crowd. She did leave the diner but she waited in her truck outside. So, when Darlene said you could leave and head to school, Ellie was outside waiting for you.

“Don’t wanna keep lover girl waiting, do ya?” Darlene had said when you clocked out.

The blush from her comment still on your face as you walked to Ellie’s truck and knocked on the window, “Hey, what’re you still doing here?”

Ellie straightened up, “Uh, thought you might like a ride..?”

“You didn’t have to, Ellie.”

“Wanted to do something nice for you,” how could she be so effortlessly sweet.

You nodded and hopped in, her truck was an older model, a chevy. It was nice, inside smelled like pine and cologne..

Do her and spidey share the same cologne?

Now that you think about it, they have a lot of similarities… they’re both nerds, smell like pine, tobacco, and that cologne, same height, and the same music taste.. weird.

Could Ellie be.. Spidey?

You almost let out a laugh at the thought. There’s no universe in which Ellie is Spider-Man. For one, she’s too shy compared to the flirty masked man, two, she’s never been able to hold a conversation with you without turning it back to tutoring.. and three, she’s a girl.. not a man.

Guess I have a type.

“To school or..?”

“Uh, school.. can you drop me off at the cafe across the street? I wanna change before class..” you say, a little embarrassed.

Ellie doesn’t say anything, she just nods as she pulls into the cafe parking lot.

You huff, “Hey, Ellie? Um.. can.. can you not tell anyone? It’s not that I’m embarrassed but y’know.. kids at our school can be mean when it comes to class and..”

Ellie nods, “Don’t I know it?”

You feel a pang of guilt as she says that, you knew Ellie wasn’t as well off as your family was.. in the first two years of college, she was belittled because of it. You didn’t participate in it, of course, but you wish you hadn’t just stood by and turned the other way, “Sorry..”

“I-It’s fine, fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.. but.. can I ask you a question?”

You nod, “Sure.”

“Why are you working there? You also model.. it can’t be to make extra cash, right? I mean your family is rich and—.”

You interrupt her, “I.. I know. My family’s rich and whatever but come on, there’s no way that my family, a family of politicians would ever want me to be a doctor. To them, being a doctor isn’t anywhere as good as being senator.. or governor..” you scoff.

“Fuck, sorrry..”

“Mhm.. so when I told my father that I wanted to be a doctor, he told me that I’d have to do it on my own since he didn’t see it as an ‘investment,” you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “So that’s why I work two jobs and apply for all those scholarships..”

“I had no idea, Y/n.. that’s really something.”

You smile at her.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Why the fuck does your name tag say ‘Mary Jan’,” she pointed at your name tag, the perplexed expression on her face eliciting a laugh out of you.

“Oh, that.. well, Darlene, er, my shift manager gave it to me like that. I guess Mary Jane was a waitress who worked there before me, she was a aspiring actor, apparently, she’s on broadway now.. so, I decided to keep it, hoping that her luck might rub off on me,” you giggled, “That and when I first started modelling, I had this creep stalker so I took on the name Mary Jane in hopes that it’d shake him off.”

Ellie laughs, “Makes sense.”

You nod and grab your duffel to head inside, “I’ll be right back.”

Inside the cafe’s restroom, you bury your face into your palms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t believe she saw me in this dorky uniform! I must look like a hotdog!

After putting on your normal clothes, you touched up your makeup and hair and made your way back out.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You ended up studying in the library late into the night. You had to pass this test coming up and you didn’t feel like seeing Ellie again. As much as you liked her, you couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated that she wasn’t affected by that night’s events… had she felt nothing?

You were too entranced in your thinking to realize that someone had sat right next to you at the bus stop.

“Hey, got a light?”

You rolled your eyes, prepared to fight off another disgusting man, “I don’t so why don’t you just—!” Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes laid on the red and blue figure in front of you, “Fuck, sorry.. didn’t know it was you..”

Spidey laughed into his fist as he nudged you with his shoulder, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Ugh, I have this test in chem coming up so I had to study.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell—.”

“What was that?”

“Uh.. why.. why didn’t you tell your teacher?”

You cocked your head to the side, “What?”

“Nothing!”

You chuckled, “Y’know, you remind me a lot of this girl I know. “

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, haha, you two are way too similar, so similar that I found myself wondering if you were the same person, “you giggled.

Ellie’s should left her body.

“Whaaaatttt, that’s crazyyyyy.”

You giggle, “I know, there’s no way you two are the same person.. I mean she’s way too awkward,” ouch, “she doesn’t look all that athletic,” damage: -20, “she also can’t really flirt,” i totally can.. just not without the mask, “Also, you’re a man and she’s a girl..” damn.

Spidey’ sighed, “Yeah.. I don’t know.. she sounds cool!”

You nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “Yeah.. she’s ‘cool.’”

“Do you.. do you like her?”

You blush, “I don’t know.. maybe? Like, I like her, hell, we even made out but.. turns out that I was the only one affected by it.. she doesn’t even seem all that bothered or anything.. I don’t know, maybe I just played myself? I’m pretty sure that if I were the last girl on earth, she would still never go out with me..” you rub your eyes, “Argh, I don’t know.. she’s hot and cold, too hard to read.”

“Sorry..,” you hear Spidey mumble.

“At least I have you, hm? Good ol spidey, here to save the day.”

He looks at you, you wish you could peel his mask back to see what kind of face he was making, without thinking, your fingers lift up to his face. He notices and within the blink of an eye, he’s gone..

ELLIE’S POV:

“F-Fuck,” Ellie whispered, her hand on her chest to steady her breathing as she peaked around the ledge of a rooftop at you, still sitting and waiting for the buss, “That was too damn close, Ellie, what the fuck were you thinking? Shouldn’t be letting her get that close..”

Ellie felt guilty as she watched you all alone, you must be feeling pretty shitty right now, huh? I mean, not only has Ellie left you high and dry… but now, so has spidey..

Ellie lowered herself onto the ground, even though she left you down there all by yourself, she wasn’t gonna leave you vulnerable in New York City at night.. so might as well get comfy while we wait for your bus, right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog @usuck @elliessweetheart @miss-chananandler-bong @lvlymicha @prettywhnyoucry @g0d-wont-let-me-die @errorlovernotfound99 @thatgiraffefromtlou

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There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part thirteen]

Summary: Azriel attends dinner. The skies provide a bit of comfort, if perhaps not clarity.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, betrayal, lying, slight deceit, Elain attempting to court Azriel, miscommunication, intentional miscommunication, conflicting emotions, Eowyn in a bad place and Azriel doesn't know what to do

a/n: its been a long minute and I sincerely apologize for that! i got busy around halloween and then with the election results I was just... too upset and disappointed to do anything. but fear not, i haven't completely lost my mojo! sorry for the delay and the slight heartbreak, i promise its gonna get better, it just needs to get a little worse (oops!), also a special shoutout to those that reached out to me to make sure I'm still alive and doing well, thank you guys so much it really means a lot to me <3

Minors, do not interact.

part twelve

masterlist

"She's been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire"

- Arctic Monkeys, She's Thunderstorms

He notes, if perhaps a bit absentmindedly— as he tries his very best to focus on anything but the growing nervousness in the pit of his stomach— that he’s never quite looked at himself in a mirror for this long.

His clothes weren’t too much to cry about, a simple buttoned up black shirt tailor made to accommodate not only his size but his wings as well, and his black pants were casual if perhaps a little more formal than his usual clothes. He couldn’t well go to dinner with Eowyn in his leathers.

He huffed as he adjusted the simple silver cufflinks on his sleeve, reminding himself once again that it was a casual dinner with friends in a group setting, it wasn’t a date, but the thought of sitting with her, sharing a meal with her�� he wouldn’t allow himself to linger on the thought of fixing her plate for her unless he wanted his pants to tighten uncomfortably for the rest of the evening (considering he had no time to take care of the issue before dinner)— and what’s more, to possibly have the opportunity to see what she hides behind her veil made the tingles of nervousness to bite at him once again.

Fixing his hair, although he only pushed it from one side to the other and then pushed it back in frustration when it didn’t fall the way he wanted it, he pulled himself away from his reflection, figuring there was nothing more he could do and finally slipped out into the hall towards the dining area.

Before he could hear the people in the room, his shadows rushed back to him, reporting on Cassian, Nesta, and Gwyn’s attendance but not yet Eowyn’s. Figuring it was best if he came in before she did, lest she think he was late, he calmly strode in and nodded in greeting at his friends who cheered upon seeing him, already seeming a few glasses into the wine.

“Am I late?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, finding himself in a rather pleasant mood, if not to say excited.

“Just in time,” Cassian assured him good-naturedly but Azriel needed to only spare him a glance to notice there was something only slightly off about his brother. Unlike Nesta and Gwyn who seemed in rather bright spirits as they both went into the kitchen to bring more wine, Cassian didn’t seem to be drinking at all, his face a little more serene than usual.

“Surprised you agreed to this,” Cassian admitted to him when the girls were out of earshot.

“Why?” Azriel shook his head, as he took a seat, directly in front of his brother to leave them both room for their wings.

“I just.. didn’t think you were interested in her,” Cassian admitted, much to Azriel’s confusion. Hadn’t Cassian been the one pushing Eowyn and Azriel to train together, hadn’t he been the one to gossip to Rhys about his feelings, feelings he could barely even admit to himself, having been so hurt so often by his choices— and he was surprised?

But before Azriel could answer him, Gwyn and Nesta came back in, not yet tipsy but seeming just a little lighter than usual. Their light idle chatter filled the space as they set the items down, followed by the feast the house thoughtfully spawned out for them.

Nesta immediately took her seat at the head of the table to Cassian’s right, leaving her between Cassian and himself, while Gwyn sat on the one directly next to Azriel. He tried to not be bothered by it and the fact that it would leave Eowyn in the seat diagonal to him.

Gwyn grinned widely, if perhaps a bit abashedly at him as she placed the bottle down on the table.

With that action came the realization that the table only had four sets of silverware.

“Here, try this,” he looked up to find a blushing Gwyn gently stacking a small cracker with a creamy spread and thin cold cut of meat for him to try. He felt himself go pale at the forward act.

Food sharing was sacred among fae. No female shared food, especially directly feeding anyone that wasn’t already part of their families. This was solely an act of courtship, something he truly didn’t want to entertain, despite the way he’d seen Gwyn’s eyes following him wherever he went.

Azriel felt at a loss, not knowing how to proceed. What if in an attempt to spare Gwyn’s feelings, he accepted the food and gave her the wrong idea? What if Eowyn walked in and thought the same thing? But what if he disrespected Gwyn’s kind act by rejecting her and ruining the entire dinner?

Since when did he overthink things so much?

“I— thank you,” he tried to smile graciously, but both the words and his facial expression gave away his awkwardness.

His shadows flurried around him in offense at her forwardness.

He took the offered food from her, careful not to touch her as he did and took a small bite.

She watched him with wide expectant eyes. “What do you think?”

“It’s… good,” he cleared his throat to fill the silence.

“Thank you,” she blushed harder, either from his response or out of embarrassment, he wasn’t sure.

“You ladies cook all of this yourselves?” Cassian saved him, the mood lifting with his playful incredulity as he raised a suspicious eyebrow at his mate.

“We had help,” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“We?” He continued to tease, causing Gwyn to laugh lightly, eyes sparkling in glee despite the lingering awkwardness from her interaction with Azriel.

“Nesta made a beautiful layout,” Gwyn defended, waving a hand over the board containing a variety of cheeses, cold meats, and spreads. “Wynnie helped us with a few side dishes and I roasted the chicken and vegetables,” she grinned proudly.

Azriel felt his heart leap at the sound of her name. It offered him the perfect segue to ask about her.

“When is she coming? Is she alright?”

They all turned to look at him and several things happened all at once.

Azriel wondered for a brief second how anyone thought he could make a living out of noticing those kinds of things. He was supposed to be a Spymaster, for Cauldron’s sake! He was supposed to be aware of everything in every room all at once, and yet he hadn’t noticed— or perhaps, he’d  willingly chosen to ignore— that which was so glaringly obvious the second he stepped into the dining room: Eowyn wasn’t here.

Still, all he could do was gather all at once every intake of breath, the barely noticeable gasp leaving Nesta’s lips, the twitch to Gwyn’s jaw and the way her gaze dropped— every minuscule movement everyone in the room made at any given point to give away something they were hiding. Seeking what they knew.

All at once he noticed the way Cassian’s head snapped up to look at his mate, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that spoke of both accusation and betrayal. Gwyn, who was filling a plate either for him or herself froze in place and focused on the plate for a second before looking up at him with something akin to betrayal in her gaze, while Nesta merely stopped chewing on her own bite of cheese and cracker for a second before continuing her slow mastication, gray eyes set firmly on the food she was piling on her plate.

“Eowyn isn’t joining us tonight,” she said simply, all wine playfulness gone.

“Why not?” he couldn’t help but snarl under his breath and this felt much too familiar, much like when he’d snapped at Gwyn the night before as she told him Eowyn’s decision to stop training with him.

“Well, she… said she didn’t want to intrude,” this time Gwyn spoke up, seeming recovered enough to speak although her tone was more questioning than telling. He turned to her and noticed the pink tinge to her cheeks and the glow in her eye was gone, replaced by a paleness to her skin and a distant countenance. “She helped with dinner, but said she didn’t want to be a fifth wheel on our double date.”

He remained silent at that, head blank despite his boiling blood.

“I see,” he spoke stiltedly after a minute of silence.

The tension in the room could be cut with even the dullest of blades and yet there was nothing anyone could do to bring back the lightness. Gwyn, seeming recovered enough, straightened her back and jutted out her chin.  “You came because you thought she would be here?” She confirmed, although they all knew at that point it wasn’t necessary.

Azriel had made it clear to all at this point without needing to say a single word that he cared about Eowyn. Everyone knew. It wasn’t a secret he was trying to keep, he cared about her, that much they all knew. Just how much he cared, he was only starting to figure out himself.

“Yes,” he replied simply yet honestly, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave the room and possibly hunt Eowyn down and demand an explanation.

He thought back to the conversation they’d had that day, attempting to recall her wording.

She’d told him the girls were making dinner and asked if he wanted to join. He wanted to both kick himself for not confirming her presence and scold her for not correcting him when he said he’d see her at dinner. Wanted to rip his own heart out to justify the unrelenting pressure on his chest.

“You love her,” again, she stated rather than asked. 

Azriel remained silent however, and that was all anyone needed to know.

—

He considered going straight to the library and storming into her office to demand an apology, but most importantly, an explanation for her clear deception. 

After the disastrous dinner he’d been blindsided into joining (a rather brief encounter) he found himself taking to the skies instead, needing to clear his head.

He considered everything that had happened in the last few days, or rather, the last few months of his life.

He flew for hours, relishing in the exertion on his back, the soreness of his cold wings, but all he could think about, every possible thought he had, always led back to her and how she’d crept her way into his life

He’d found her…interesting at first, that he couldn’t deny. 

He’d always noticed a quiet spark under those captivating black eyes, a certain knowing look that was both thrilling and challenging in a way few dared to look at him with. She was a breath of fresh air and she was a mystery to him, and the more time they spent together and the more he uncovered the layers that made her her, the more he grew immeasurable fond of her.

He’d sworn, after his brief disappointing fling with Elain, that he would not allow himself to fall in yet another pit of unrequited love.

He’d sworn off females for the sake of his growing desperation for belonging, for a mate, and he’d given up on seeking it and trying to force it to happen with females that were either uninterested in him entirely but were too kind to tell him straight off, or were barely interested in something short while and empty.

That had not been the same with Eowyn. Mostly because his interest in her wasn’t based off of his attraction to her (at least at first) but derived from a curiosity that might’ve remained friendly if not slightly distant had they not spent almost every day together, training in the morning and as of more recently, spending a few hours together in the few and far between occasions he wasn’t needed elsewhere. 

He had subconsciously sought her out every instance he could, and while the itch to see her hadn’t come to him all at once, it was undeniable and ever present now.

While he was self-aware enough to admit that his attraction to her hadn’t spawned in a day, but through the small intimacies shared, the trust and friendship they’d built, as there wasn’t anything licentious rooted in their relationship. He hadn’t salivated after her like some kind of beast, hadn’t even considered crossing any lines with her that went beyond their respective roles as trainer and trainee, for despite the fact that priestesses in Prythian weren’t generally considered pious and virginal maidens, these priestesses were special.

This group of females resided there to stay away from males lusting after them.

Eowyn was never outwardly flirtatious and outspoken, but she was also not meek and docile. 

She was like an impending storm, she was the anticipation between a bolt of lighting and its following thunder. And like a raging rainstorm that had begun in the furthest distance, raging closer with a speed that bade it impossible to escape yet took it’s righteous time to flank him entirely, the tempest was upon him now and despite his careful precautions, he was now caught amidst its chaos and found he never wanted to leave after witnessing its splendor.

He cared not about mates, not anymore. 

He didn’t even care if she didn’t want him the way he wanted her, he simply found he couldn’t be without her. It was beyond the fact that no one truly understood him like she did, no, it wasn’t about him. It was about the privilege of knowing someone like her. 

He’d had a taste of divinity every time he was near her, and he didn’t know how he would go on if he could no longer be by her side, in whatever way she wanted him.

He couldn’t be selfish, not when it came to her. He didn’t know what had been done to her, didn’t know if she was interested in males, interested in him, but he would never expect anything of her. Not when it came to that.

In his roiling thoughts, he wondered if he’d come off too intensely in their last few meetings. He wondered if he’d scared her off by hovering over as close as he could to hear about her well-being. He wondered if… wondered if his pathetic attempt to kiss her had made her think he was an animal of a male who sought nothing more than sex.

He wondered if she cared about him even half as much as he cared about her.

With his jumbled hurt and angry thoughts that merely circled and intertwined in his mind, he found no answers to his growing list of questions and doubts. He was, however, exhausted after flying for five hours straight, and found he couldn’t feel properly surprised when the shadows he’d left behind to guard the library entrance rushed to tell him Eowyn was waiting in the greenhouse.

She sat with her legs crossed on top of a sturdy windowsill at the furthest wall, looking outside with her back to the entrance.

He bit his tongue to hold back from scolding her for it, for her lack of precaution and safety.

“You’re angry,” she stated, rather than asked. 

Not wanting to risk snapping at her and driving her further away, he remained silent.

She sighed at his lack of response and twisted around to face him, although it accomplished nothing as he noted that despite her loose hair, her face was still covered entirely so that he couldn’t even see her eyes.

“I would be too,” she continued.

“Would you,” he snarled through his teeth.

“Yes,” she replied immediately, latching onto his response, “I would. Because what I did was idiotic and insensitive—“ 

“Don’t do that,” he cut her off, “don’t try to empathize with me by putting yourself down.”

She stilled and her back straightened, suddenly looking away and he noticed for the first time that she sat next to Thelxie, and that the once bright and proud flora now dropped sadly at her side, wilting.

She turned to him fully then, legs hanging over the side, back straight and if he could see her eyes, he knew he would see them looking straight at him.

She only gave him a brief nod before speaking. “Ask your questions then.”

Again, he was faced with the closed off and cold Eowyn. He narrowed his eyes at her in disbelief, a pang of guilt and self-deprecation eating at him as he watched her put her true mask on and push him away. For a second, she’d acted like herself, if perhaps layering it on rather thick to get on his good side, but could he not even express justified anger at her clear betrayal without her slinking back into a shell of who she was?

The anger that had been directed at her suddenly turned inward and he chastised himself for it, for he knew better than to allow a blinding and useless emotion such as anger get in the way. He breathed deeply and tried to let the rise of emotions ease into a steady stream.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t,” she replied, her voice cool and tempered and he realized that in the few seconds it had taken him to calm himself down, she had used that time to do the same and strengthen the walls she erected around herself. Dammit. “Everything I told you about my father— about myself, is true-“

“Not that,” the wave of anger tacked him yet he relented against it, for he’d had much time to think and he now came to realize that although she’d clearly made rather important omissions to her story, she had been truthful in everything she’d shared. Intimacy like that could not be fabricated. “You think you’re so clever, inviting me to dinner with Nesta and Gwyn and not correcting me when I said I’d see you there?”

She remained silent for a beat and he knew, without seeing her face, that she was gaping at him. “I- technically, that’s not a lie—“

“Eowyn,” he snapped.

She sighed, “I’ve no excuse for that,” she spoke quickly and sharply, “that was just me being a coward and not wanting to explain everything after training, and, well-“ she turned her head to look at her plant, gathered herself and spoke with the same speed, if perhaps a bit stiltedly, “Gwyn likes you. That’s all I would hear, every time I came back to myself from those horrible visions. She was by my side and she would tell me you were waiting outside the library walls, always so attentive and caring, and always so kind to her and anyone that would share a bit of news of your dear friend, and she asked me if I— if it would bother me if she asked you to dinner, and why would it? She’s the kindest fae I’ve ever met, she’s brilliant, she’s funny and sweet and beautiful and you deserve nothing less—“

“Eowyn—”

“-and I know I should’ve asked you first,” she nodded quickly, hands fidgeting in her lap, “I know I should’ve, but I was so weary… so tired, and I didn’t want to talk about what the herbalist said, and I just wanted you to give you both… an opportunity.”

If he thought his emotions were jumbled before, they were nothing but a mere puddle in the raging ocean within him now. “Eowyn, that wasn’t your decision to make,” he stated simply, unable to hold his words back, even as she nodded again and hung her head, “do you think I don’t know how she looks at me? You think my shadows don’t keep me aware of her reactions— of anyone’s reactions to me? I’ve been the target of people’s lust just as often as I’ve been the object of their hatred, their fear and disgust. I don’t mean to sound arrogant,” he frowned, feeling uncomfortable speaking in such a haughty way, “but if I wanted Gwyn, I would be with her. She is not the one I want.”

Eowyn gripped the windowsill tightly, her back ramrod straight. “You’re right,” she spoke after a moment of silence, “I’m sorry for deceiving you and for just— going about this all wrong. I should’ve asked you. She should’ve asked you without me being in the middle, but she thought she could trust me and I went and fucked it all up.”

“She should have asked me herself,” he found himself agreeing, listening to her breath as it halted for a beat longer, her only tell in an otherwise unmoved reaction. “That way, I would’ve been clear that I have no interest in her.”

“Right,” she murmured, sufficiently agreeably if perhaps dismissively, “are we not going to talk about the pegasus in the room?”

And while he wanted to push and prod at her to understand why she was actively trying to push him onto her friend after their own day together in the obsidian cave, he knew the subject could not be ignored for much longer. 

“Are you a witch?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated,” she pushed herself off her seat and paced in front of him, one hand resting on her hip while they other pinched the bridge of her nose, “everything I told you about myself is true, I haven’t lied about that, but—“

“Are you a witch?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she snapped, and stopped pacing for a second before she continued, “or I was. I don’t have access to my power anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed at that, “why not?” And while he was at it, “and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Out of safety,” she turned to him and he couldn’t see her face but he knew that if he could she would be looking at him with incredulity. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have told your High Lord I’m a witch the second you knew? As a matter of fact, why haven’t I received a visit from the High Lord?” She crossed her arms and looked around as if Rhys would spawn out of thin air.

He frowned at her. “I haven’t told him, and I find it quite offensive you’d suggest otherwise.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head, “don’t you ‘live to serve’?”

His frown deepened, not liking her tone, “don’t use my own words against me.”

“Oh that’s right,” she continued, “you needed to confirm with me first, right? Well go ahead and tell him what you want, it’s not like I’d be of any use to him anyway. I have no way to access my powers even if I wanted to.”

“Stop that,” he scolded, “stop trying to antagonize me.”

“I’m not,” she snapped, suddenly standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted up and he knew that her obsidian eyes were looking straight at him, “I’m simply stating the truth, and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t blame you: having a witch at your disposal would’ve been helpful during the fight with Hybern but unfortunately for you, there was nothing I could’ve done to help you.”

“I haven’t told Rhys,” he repeated, needing her to understand that. “I wouldn’t.”

“But you thought about it,” it wasn’t a reproach, it was a statement of fact. She knew him well enough to know his duty always came first to him. He was a soldier, he was a warrior and not only was he loyal to his High Lord based on his unfaltering belief in him, but he also held an innate sense of pride in his Court that was as deep-rooted as it was repressed, having been an outcast to his own homeland. Eowyn knew him well enough to know he would have at least briefly considered going to Rhysand.

“It’s fine,” she repeated, almost to herself as if it were a mantra, “Not many… know about that. Only Clotho and now you, but I’m-” she sighed and shook her head, “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He took a step forward but stopped when she took a step back.

“I just told you,” she snapped again, but it no longer sounded as firm and decisive as before. “No one knows. No one is supposed to know, and if you knew even half of what I used to be… of what they all expect me to be, you wouldn’t be having this pleasant little conversation with me.”

“Then tell me,” and although his tone was firm, it was out of desperation and need more than anger and frustration. “Nothing you can tell me will change what I know-”

“You-”

“—because I know you and don’t you dare say I don’t. I know you, Eowyn-”

“No, you-“

“I do,” he insisted, refusing to let her cut him off, “I may not know all the details of what you’ve done or what you’ve been through,” and when he stepped towards her that time she didn’t pull away, so he gently took one of her hands and held it between them, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a soothing caress, “but I know who you are.”

She remained silent and said nothing more for a long moment before pulling her hand away from his.

“I’m sorry… for what happened today,” she began and the way she collected herself and shifted slightly, looking over his shoulder and towards the door told him she had not and would not budge on the subject, “it was a mistake.”

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 ,

[wakacreations]

Raphael: One Drunken Night

Author's Note:

I write more angst than fluff pieces. I thought I should remedy that a bit. As much as i love writing some drama sometimes it is nice to enjoy some fluff once in awhile. Well write a more lighter piece compared to how I usually write. Anyways enjoy!

Word Count: 3866

Summary:

What is there to fill the air when silence stretches far longer than you wish? A promise is kept. Expectations are high. A reunion made between two fools. What is the harm in a meeting between a devil and his former client? Reconciliation is never easy but drinking down a bottle makes the truth easier to swallow at least for the devil.

“Are you going to run off, little mouse?” The devil polished off his whiskey. “Frankly, I should. There are better ways I could be spending my time.” You rose from the table. Raphael sneered forgoing his glass to drink directly from the bottle. “Take some consideration of my humble offer. Haven't I've been nothing but generous since our time together many moons ago. Didn't we spend a wonderful time together hmm,” his voice grew rich and warm inviting you to reconsider. With a snap of his fingers the tavern went silent. The patrons paid no mind to you. Drinking merrily and laughing about continuing on as if you two were far removed from their reality.

“Better to serve a greater purpose with that freedom than to waste away your precious talents,” his gaze darkened. Korrilla, I am sorry but I can’t stand babysitting him not now. “Yet I have heard nothing from you and you have the gull to tell me to save you from whatever shit you've dug yourself into. Find your own way home,” you stormed your way out from the tavern. “We are not finished with our discussion!” His voice died in the wind. The rush of the cool night’s air greeting you as the Elfsong drew further away.

Screw him and whatever else he decided to play savior of. “Mouse,” he growled. The crunching of dried dirt under a boot echoed as you walked. “Fuck off! Go harass the others with your contracts. You did a damn good job at doing just that for those other clients of yours!” The jiggle of bells grew louder. “You think that will scare me, Raphael!? I am done!” You ran towards the doors of your home, rattling the hinges of the door when you furiously shut it behind you. The sound of bells all gone silent. “Fuck him. Why did I think- Why am I stupid? Why am I so stupid,” throwing off your clothes as you made your way into the bathroom. He thinks he can just throw petty insults at me when he was the one who failed to keep hold of that stupid crown. The steamy mist enveloped you.

We are equals, you and I. What are we but champions of our own fate?

The scalding water's droplets batted against your aching back.

I like you in my own ways. Come little mouse, don’t fret I will always be here till your very end. I will come back to you my dear, what am I but a devil of his word.

He was the one who made me think, made me believe that. How could he just simply vanish out of my life?

Why did I believe there was anything more?

Stepping out, you made your way to the mirror. Forget it. Forget him. Wiping off the foggy glass. Tonight was supposed to be a simple evening to catch up on the time that had passed. Korrilla had snuck letters keeping up with the whereabouts and happenings of her patron. Apparently Raphael was mentally spiraling when Mephistopheles reclaimed the crown once again. How could he have failed?

Much has changed in only half a decade as you peered at yourself in the glass, tracing your fingers on the tired lines of the time that had gone. Did our time together mean nothing?

I will come back to you, little mouse. When I do, we'll dine.

You made your way into the bedroom and slipped into an old white tunic.

It's not often that a devil offers a favor for a former client but for you, anything.

You've kept your promise to meet, Raphael. Settling in for the night you reached into your nightstand feeling for the cool glass bottle. I am just a fool to wish for this night to turn out differently. At least I will get some rest pulling the cork of the Angelic Slumber. You raised the glass to your lips. Maybe I am the only one who wants that to.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound emanates from your bedroom door. Your hand moved towards your nightstand grabbing the dagger you tucked away. Gripping the blade tight you quietly patted your way to the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mouse…? Tav? May I come in?” His voice was all gruff. The door shook slightly but there was no movement on the door handle. “You know I've missed you, that is for certain.” You heard an audible clink of glass. “We never did talk about you in our earlier discussion.” There was a tiredness to how he spoke. Was it even worth seeing him now? “How are you, my dear mouse?” You remained silent. “I know you're there, Mouse. You left a clear trail to follow.” Would he force his way in?

Knock. Knock.

Would I care if he broke the door?

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I'm going back to bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hello little mouse.” There stood the disheveled devil. “Get out,” you held the door ajar. Anyone would have mistaken him for another penniless noble. His once fine doublet torn and mangled hung open, undershirt covered in stains haphazardly buttoned up, hair all tussled from its usual neat arrangement, face unshaven cheeks reddened as he holds a whiskey bottle in hand. This was how you found him in the tavern. “My my you always held a temper,” taking a drink from his bottle. “Leave,” you moved to shut the door. “Wait,” his hand blocked you. You pushed more of your weight into the door. “I can't,” he growled. “Bullshit, snap your fingers and fuck off.” He forced the door open, throwing you back. Your head bounced on the floor. “Fuck!” Tears welled up as you felt the pounding radiating in your skull. 

You groaned as you clutched your head. “Must you be so vulgar?” Towering over you his silhouette stretched against the walls, a flicker of gold diminished when he gazed down at you, his body swaying. “Wasn't this to be a happy reunion?” He bends down on one knee. “Are you hurt?” His hand clumsily reaches out to you. “Don't touch me,” swatting his hand. “Let me, mouse,” Raphael pleaded as he continued once more. You trembled as his hand grew closer. 

“Okay."

Gently he places his hand to the back of your head, cool soft waves eased away the throbbing in your skull. A satisfied smile graced his lips. His eyes traced the worn walls of your bedroom. “This place hadn't changed at all since I was last here all those years ago.” He held his hand out to you. Your gazed hardened as he made no movement to stand blocking you from rising without his assistance.  “A truce for now save for the morning,” he nodded. Sighing, you took his hand once more. This was always the game you two had played.

With a tug he brought you to his chest. “I would take more than a mere dagger to end me,” he spoke into your ear, body leaning against yours for support. "You need concentration to teleport between planes as you can see I am inebriated,” he mumbled, you froze when his arms came around to hold you. Well that is.. unexpected… “I can send for Korrilla,” you swallowed. Resting his chin atop your head he took a deep inhale. “Don't bother with her,” he exhaled, body going lax against you. “I'll be fine when the morning comes.” What am I to do with you? Tentatively your hands moved to encircle his waist. Would this be alright? You leaned into his chest. 

“Would you prefer I take you to the Devil's Den?” This was going to be a long night. “Trying to be rid of me, Mouse? I don’t blame you. No, I much prefer your dwellings as I have done before.” He gave you a tight squeeze. The smell of his musk filled your nostrils. “I missed you, Tav.” The heady mix of cherries, whiskey and his perspiration, your heart stirred recalling what used to be. What used to feel like home. You sighed into him. “You're too cruel, Raphael.” A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You call me cruel and yet, you are the one that declined my offer to have a place for you in my Hells.”

What is there left for you in Faerun my dear little mouse? Won't you humbly accept my offer? What fun you would have here playing the hero once more. His final offer to you as you handed him the crown. 

“I wouldn't have been free,” you whispered. He stiffened at your truth. “No, no you wouldn't be my dear… but what I offered you is the power of freedom. Whatever be your sole desires,” he purred. “The freedom to choose. The illusion of my own free will. Free to wander about only if you allow it,” moving your head back to look at him. “I know your games, devil.” The slight flicker of Hellfire danced alight in his warm brown eyes. A smirk spread across his face, approval. “You were always a clever little thing,” his hand came to hold your chin. Gaze wandering to study your features like a delicate work of art.

“You were always one of my favorite clients. Especially for that tongue of yours,” moving his head in closer to recall your face to memory. “I have always indulged in you, little mouse. I have to admit.” His body swayed against yours. The warmth of his breath brushed your lips. “I did confess my truth to you and yet you have not given your own admission…” Your breathing hitched as his thumb traced your bottom lip. “Don't you miss me,” tilting his head with a knowing smile. Shaking your head free from his hold, “it’s late you can have the bed.” Letting go of his waist to push him away.��

“Such a gracious host. A host is always one to accommodate.” he grinned. “You see I’ll be needing your assistance to the bed,” draping his arms over your shoulders. “I hope you don't mind,” leaning his full weight onto you. “Raphael,” you gritted between your teeth as you steadied yourself. “What is that, little mouse? You must speak up. Has no one told you it is impolite to mumble your words,” pushing more of his weight onto you. The two of you stumbled back towards the bed. “Asshole,” you breathed as he smothered you.

“That is no way for you to treat a guest in your own home but thank you for your generosity,” bracing his arms beside your face. You took in shallow breaths as the uncomfortable weight of him pressed on your chest. “Raphael get off,” you groaned. “Usually there is more foreplay before we get to that part my dear,” taking in your glare from beneath him. "Don't you miss this? Our little games?" Dropping his head to whisper those silken words into your ear. You turned your head away from him. “You are not going to fight, little mouse?” There was no point in struggling while he had you pinned. “Why is that,” he tsked. You laid there silently, closing your eyes. His soft breath against your skin.

He’ll grow bored. Just breathe. You felt his hardened stare watching the blood rise to the surface. “Silence won’t grant you peace.” You took an unlabored breath in. “We both agreed to a truce. Dawn is not upon us just yet,” hearing him gulp down the last of his bottle. Still you didn’t respond, steading your heart. “Not in the mood for our usual games? That is a bit disappointing but to be expected. Anything but would be foolish.” The bed creaked beside you. The click of glass settled down on a hard surface. “I suppose we both have trouble sleeping, given you have this potion open,” he chuckled dryly. The jiggle of bells moved through the room, the accompanying whine of the wardrobe opening and shutting.

“Take the bed, Mouse. It is rude for a guest to sleep on the bed the host slumbers upon.” The slight wind of soft wool settles onto your limbs. “If you are to chastise me for that statement. I do not view you as just a mere guest in my home.” The rustle of fabrics and the padding of pillows filled the air. The rattling of the window and the batting of winds amplified the quietness that hung between you. Cautiously you opened your eyes. The devil’s back was towards you laying on his side in a bedding of furs on the floor. You slowly sat up from your bed.

“You were right, you know, for not following me back into the Hells.” He fluffed the pillow in his hands. “There were many dangers present there that would derive no greater pleasure than to take that coin buried in your chest,” he sighed. “I would never let anything befall you, Tav. You are mine, you know…” His back muscles tensed underneath his undershirt. “I knew about your correspondence with Korrilla. There is nothing she could keep from me if I need but ask. You could have called to me, Mouse if you were so curious.” He laid still, holding the pillow close.

“You think I enjoyed half a decade of silence from you,” his voice gone rough. How could he say such a thing when...?

“You did just the same,” settling into your bed. How many times did you spend awake thinking is he alright? The silent cool nights alone second guessing of what could have been? For a deal that was never fair to begin with.

“That. That I did but no one enjoys a devil to come knocking on their door. I have done this line of work far longer than your family line's existence.”

No, you’re wrong Raphael. Wait. Does he really? Is that true?

“I went over your family records,” he said simply. “Oh,” you shifted uncomfortably. How am I supposed to respond to that? “It is my standard procedure when I deal with potential clients. All to better secure a contract with them if they are to seek some infernal guidance.” You stared into his back.

“That is not something to fault me for, little mouse. I am doing what is within my nature. You behave just the same,” he sighed. “I waited for your call but you never did. No matter how much you pried into my life in the Hells. You did not stay away from me. What am I left to think?” He turned over to face you. Your cheeks reddened at his smoldering gaze. 

“Haven’t you sent Korrilla to watch me, Raphael?” Though the warlock was especially easy to appear when summoned or to receive a timely letter from. “No, not particularly. No. But if she were to be passing close by on route while running my tasks, there is no harm on her part in checking on a former client.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “That is hard to believe. You haven't meddled in some way.” The devil raised a brow, “would that truly be hard to believe that others would enjoy your company?” You flushed, pulling the covers higher over yourself. “No, that's not hard to believe,” you mumbled. “Hmm…” You peeked over to look at the devil. His eyes were closed.

“If there is anything you wish to know, speak your mind.” You blinked at him unsure on where to begin. "Are you tired, Raphael?” Maybe it’s about time to- “Depends on what manner do you refer to,” interrupting your train of thought. “Physically no, not at all. In the manner concerning my mental outlook potentially… but all is not lost.” That is a more thorough answer than you expected. “Oh, alright.” You two laid in silence. 

The idle sounds of the wind howling outside the window. The syncopated breaths you two inhaled. The drumming of your heart beating within your ears. Who could rest like this? Your hand reaches for your potion but would this be the last you would see of him. “Raphael?” Curiosity killed the cat but not the mouse. “Yes, little mouse?” Better now than later. “How did you lose the crown?” My last parting gift to you and you lose it. The devil flinched, frozen in thought for a moment. “You always were one to wield your curiosity like a dagger,” clicking his tongue. “How did you lose the crown,” rolling the words on his tongue in contemplation of your request. “I will sate that dangerous curiosity of yours as this is the night of truths. As the one who handed me the crown… in fairness you have the right to know.”

Taking a bated breath in, “I held few allies,” he said sharply. Tilting your head. Was that really just it? That’s… underwhelming. “Power, control and fear are all necessary to rule in the Hells. Being ruthlessly ambitious will spur you further on in a long bloodied campaign but when you are left surrounded who could you rely on should plans falter.” His nose scrunched up at the unpleasant thought. “So, this was what you must of felt when you came close for your world to end.” Raphael reopened his eyes. “How welcoming must have been for you, to have a savior waiting in your final moments. When I came for you.” There was a small stir in his eyes when he met yours, quickly shutting them. 

“Foolishly I imagine if you were with me in the Hells would the outcome be more favorable,” throat gone dry. Was that the only reason why Raphael? Was that the whole truth? “What happened next?” You lowered the covers. “Haarlep presented the crown to him. I was sent to hang on his hooks exposed to the cold of Cania. He found the whole act amusing,” gritting his teeth. “Nevertheless Korrilla returned to me and provided the means for my escape. I am left to start at the beginning once more.” Why? “Why didn't you send for me? You knew you were in peril? Why hadn't-” Your voice wavered, eyes gone misty.

“Korrilla’s orders were not to disturb you less she loses her pact for any interactions that would require you to be in the Hells,” he growled. “Why?” He couldn’t be serious.. Your knuckles turned pale as you clenched your blanket. “You wished to be free from the Hells. Why should I concern you in any manner outside of our past deals, mouse,” he scoffed, turning away.

“Then why did you offer me another contract?”

“Why did you attend tonight?”

Tension was alive and well in the air.

“You are to answer first, Tav.” What could I even say? “I kept our promise to see each other,” turning your back to the devil. “Why a contract, Raphael,” peeking at him over your shoulder. “I needed your guaranteed cooperation. What is more powerful than a contract?” He shrugged. What else could he have expected? “Trust. Simply trust. Contracts can be broken and the original can never be repaired.” You stared up at the ceiling. Are we meant to be just that? An obligation beholden to each other? The devil remained silent contemplating your words. “I could have thrown you out of my home. You know.” Rustling came from the floor. “I knew that you wouldn’t, little mouse. You don’t have the heart to." Shaking your head, “how could you be so sure? People change. It’s been five years since the last we’ve spoken.” How much had time gone?

The devil cleared his throat. “You came.” You raised a brow. “I was the one under the obligation to attend. You could walk freely away and not accept.” Did he really believe… “You expected me to not show,” sitting up. “You did not take my last contract... Whatever else could I be made to believe," his words hung in the air. There was a tightness in your chest. You took a shaky breathed in, allowing your face to fall into your palms.

“You need but ask, Raphael,” looking down at where he laid. “You declined me again and again, Tav,” pulling up his blanket against a cold chill. “Ask again.”  You swung your legs off the bed. “What,” a tilt of uncertainty edged his tone. “Ask again,” you insisted. “Of what?” The air grew still. “To help you.” The devil stilled for a moment but continued on, “My offer still stands, Mouse,” he gritted out. “No, not that,” you huffed. “Then be out with it! Be forth-” Turning over to see you. “coming,” he swallowed as you laid beside him. What am I even doing?

“What manner of place is this? What trouble has the cat all worn and the fox is in need of a mouse?” What am I even saying? “Am I an old friend potentially, a fool conceivably but a savior once more that is yet to be certain,” your confidence falters. “I… have an offer. A gift for old time's sake.” Your hand trembled as you reached out to hold his reddened face. His pupils grew wide at your touch. “What is a new beginning but an opportunity to start anew?” His eyes search wildly within your gaze for your intentions. “What are we but champions of our own fate,” stroking his cheek. “What is one last performance to a mouse but I have one request.” You feel the pull of his smile in your hand.

“What is it, little mouse?” His hand moves a lock of hair to behind your ear. “Let's be equals for our final act together,” you smiled. The warmth of his hand moves to the back of your head. His eyes closed as he brought you in close to pressed a soft tender kiss to your forehead, “that's a deal.” Your eyes reflected his own. He extends a wide open arm for you. “Is this not enough invitation?” You pressed yourself into the devil you know. His arms pull you in for your bodies to mold into each other.

“You still have a couple of questions to answer for, mouse,” bunting his head against yours. “What is there for me to answer?” You drumming fingers against his jaw. “Why did you never seek for me?” He slowly blinked at you. “Was I not just a means to an end?” Wasn’t that what we were? Your lower lip quivered. “That is the fate of mortals and devils.” You wanted to look away. You wanted to squirm away from his hold and yet.. his presence was a familiar comfort that you longed for. “I am no mere devil and you no mere mortal,” he chuckled. How could he look so at ease? “Did you fear what we could become, Tav?” The movement of your hand stilled. “For a time, yes.” Who wouldn't fear a devil. “What of now?” You shivered from the chilling air. “I don't know. There is just much to think about.” Maybe fear but not only just that. He pulled up a blanket to cover you both. “Sleep now, little mouse. The morning will come,” shutting his eyes.

“Raphael?” You felt your eyelids grow heavy. “Yes, mouse,” he yawned. “Will you be gone by the morning?” When was the last time this place felt so warm? “Do you wish for the devil to be gone,” he gave you a squeeze. “No. Not at all,” you confessed. “Then I'll be here when you wake. Goodnight my little mouse,” he breathed. The howling of winds have subsided. Moonlight streamed through the window casting overhead. The steady snores that rumbled from the devilish bastard. You couldn’t help but quietly chuckle to yourself.

“I'll answer that last question of yours devil,” reaching out to brush back a hair into place. What are we but a mortal and a devil. Two beings that indulge in each other's desires but not their own. “I missed you, Raphael.” Trapped in our own personal Hells. What we are is a foolish pair. “Goodnight my precious devil." Your eyes come to rest. Tomorrow we'll weather through the Hells together. When the morning comes we won't be alone.

[snake-bite-piercing]

Yandere cafe 2

I'll link part 1 here

It had been a week after visiting the cafe across the street. You were contemplating going there again. The sweets they had weren't bad and you didn't really get to see everything they had to offer.

You went to the cafe again during your lunch break. This time it was more crowded than the last time you were here. You were seated at a small two person booth. This time you decided to just get a cup of coffee.

They handed you the same paper as last time. Your eyes scanned the paper again to refresh your memory. You decided to go for Alexander, he didn't seem so bad.

After finishing your coffee, you placed the paper under the cup with a tip and got up to leave. On your way out, you say your waiter pick up the paper and rush to the back.

The rest of the day was busy for you. Many worried people came in with sick animals or animals needing cleaning. You had to stay an extra few minutes to finish up the last fur baby that needed treatment. You didn't mind though you loved your job.

When you did finish you were the last person left so it was your job to close up. You checked if all the lights were off, no ACS were on, and you locked all the windows. As you were locking the door you turned around and bumped into someone.

You looked up, and your eyes locked with a tall man with a nervous expression. He has a solid build and beautiful dark brown hair.

"Sorry, we just closed the shop but will open tomorrow at 8." You said to him as you put your keys away. You felt his gaze on you and didn't know what to do. "I'm Alexander from the cafe across the street. You picked me, right?" he said, sounding unsure.

You were shocked that he was standing there in front of you. You thought you would have had to wait a while before meeting him. "Oh, sorry I didn't think we would meet this fast. I thought there would be a line of people before we ever met." you blurted out.

"Actually, there is but we get to pick who we prefer to go out with. Most people aren't kind to the waiters. But you were." You blushed a bit at what he said. "So, you picked me?" you asked him, "Yes!" he answered quickly, "I mean yeah."

"I brought you these." You looked at the small bouquet of flowers he was holding. You hadn't noticed them until now. You grabbed them and quickly said "Thank you... Should I give you my number so we can stay in contact?" He nodded his head and you guys exchanged numbers.

When you got home you had a conversation with him via messages. You both decided to go to an amusement park during the weekend.

It was already Sunday, and you were getting ready to go out. When you made it to the amusement park, you saw Alexnder standing near a ticket booth. He had already gotten you guys more than enough tickets.

You guys started at the bumper cars, then worked your way to the roller coaster. He went on most of them though. The date was going well, and you were generally having fun. He asked you a bit about your work. He seemed to actually care about what you had to say.

As your date was coming to an end you guys passed by a pull up challenge bar. Alexander quickly rushed over to it. The rules were simple hang on for two minutes to win a prize.

"Which prize do you want?" he asked looking over all the big stuffed animals. "Why are you so sure you'll win?" the man who set the game up asked. As Alexander rolled up his sleeves he said, "This will be a piece of cake."

Even though it was only for two minutes the timer went down slowly. Alexander was able to stay on for the first minute. Then the bar started shaking. You could tell he was having a bit of a hard time holding on. But Alexander was still able to hold on for the whole two minutes.

Just to show off he did a pull up. "So, you decided which one you wanted?" he said proudly. You laughed a bit at how cocky he was being and went to grab the big bear stuffed animal. Alexander held it for you. "Can I drive you home?" he asked pointing towards his card.

You agreed and watched him put your prize in the back seat. You didn't live far from the amusement park, so it wasn't a long drive. When parked his car in front of your house, you didn't remember telling him where you lived. Maybe you did but you forgot about it, so you let it go.

"Thanks for driving me home Alexander," you said. "It's really no problem, but you can call me Alex."

He carried the stuffed animal to your door, and you quickly brought it inside. You heard him blurt out "I had fun today." You smiled at him and said, "Yeah me too, maybe next time we can get dinner." His eye lit up and he had a big smile on his face.

"Next time? So does that mean you want to go out again?" You giggled then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Alex," you said and went inside.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Fic / Fluff of Auron and Rook stargazing, and just kinda talking about their feelings, if that makes sense :3

I’m sorry, i’m not very good at this.. 🥲

Being truthful to each other.

It makes perfect sense! Also don't feel bad if your not good at asking as you ask more you can figure out how to do it!

This all started as a date, with Rook telling Auron they should go star gazing together. Planning was easy, going out of the city for a bit to enjoy each other. It's been a while since they've done this and both excited why not.

Enjoying the first day together, Rook shared stories about their childhood. Along with how they days have been without Auron, since he was busy with something. And Auron enjoyed every second just listening to them talk.

But as the day wined down, Rook was giddy setting up their small area for the star gazing. Talking about how they packed warm snacks and drinks. Placing a big blanket down and smiling with pride as Auron praised it all.

"You put so much work into this, it's very nice dear." Whispering Auron sat across from his lover. This trip has been so amazing so far, but the thoughts in Auron's head were still there.

"Thank you! I wanted this to be perfect! Since it's always you planning them. I wanted to give it a shot." Giggling, Rook leaned against their partner and smiled. Looking up to the sky as the sun settled down for the moon to come up.

The couple enjoyed as it slowly turned night and the stars slowly started shining. Laying down to see it all better, Rook held Auron's hand. Pointing up Rook began saying which stars were what, even seeing some constellations.

Turning his head, the red head looked at Rook and smiled. They were so attentive and kind to him, but what if he wasn't a good choice for them? The thought made Auron freeze.

What if one day they regret choosing him? What if someone comes after them and Auron can't stop it? What if-

"-on? Auron!" Raising their voice a bit, Rook looked concerned. Propping to their elbows looking at their lover, the red head cleared his throat.

"Yes? Sorry, it seems I was up in my head." Answering, Auron looked at them. Seeing how Rook didn't fully buy it, the CEO sighed and slowly sat up.

Copying him, Rook positioned themselves in front of Auron and gently took his hand. Waiting patiently for him to speak, not wanting to rush him.

"...I, have doubts of if I'm even deserving of you." Soft words hung in their air, Auron looked down at his lovers hands. Feeling a bit foolish saying it out loud, but blinked in suprise as Rook hugged him.

They were warm, Rook always was they seem to always know how to comfort him. Frowning and feeling the need to cry Auron wrapped his arms around them. Burying himself in their neck and letting out slight hiccups.

Letting Auron cry a bit, Rook then slowly let go of him. Bringing their hands up to their face, softly swiping his tears away.

"Why do you think that?" Gently asking, Rook wanted to know. And Auron took a deep breath before explaining everything to them.

About how he feels he isn't a good man, not deserving of this. How easy it was loving them, adding more to it when he first said it in the limo. Along with how Auron fears that he won't be strong enough to protect them.

Rook listened quietly, holding his face and looking in his eyes. Just being opened minded for Auron so he could be more valuable to them. And once he finished Rook gently kissed his lips.

"I won't lie, sometimes I wonder if I should have agreed..." Whispering Rook saw as it seemed to break Auron's heart a bit, "But I'll do it all over again."

Smiling as tears fell Rook climbed into Auron's lap as he held them close. Rook then hummed as they thought of their next words carefully.

"I know, I need to know little of what your other life is. To protect me better so I'm not in more danger. Your already doing fine and I don't care if your good or bad. I love you for you." Whispering Rook rested their forehead against Auron's. The glasses wearing man smiled listening to their speech.

"I love you too." Chuckling Auron kissed their face as Rook giggled. After he finished the red heads lover pulled a serious face. Making eye contact Rook held his hands.

"You deserve this. To be happy, to have someone close to you. And I'm forever greatful it's me. And guess what? I say you deserve me." Firmly saying, Rook then smiled and kissed Auron again. Feeling warmth in his heart Auron kissed then passionately back. Holding them tightly as they laid back down, looking up at the stars.

Enjoying the stars before it got too cold, the two held each other a but tighter as they went inside. Enjoying the small cabin Auron rented to be away from everything. Both were happy that they were a little bit truthful to one another on this trip.

[ladylokianna]

Since i have a soft spot for a softer, tender, "human" Aemond, quite away to the stern boy we use to see and read, i scribbled something based on this during my lunch break.

Hope you enjoy, as always be kind, english is not my first language, sorry for my mistakes.

***

"Stop running away from me! Good Gods, Aemond, what happened? We... we were good, were we? We were talking and everything was fine, and... just tell me what i did wrong, sweetheart."

"You were and you still mocking me."

Your heart flutters a bit faster, not knowing when such thing had happened: what mockery was he talking about? An instant before the two of you were kissing in the library during your usual Valyrian lesson, laughing after something funny you told him, and the following instant he was freezing cold, rushing out the room with such a haste that you had to chase him through the corridor, relying on all your strength to grab his waist to stop him and bring him back to your chambers, so much so that you almost had to literally drag him by weight: not an easy task, though, because despite being thin, you are fully aware of his tremendous strength, and you are grateful that he did not put up too much of a fight. "What? I would never do it."

"But you did. Just... why?"

"I'm a bit confused, Aemond. Just tell me what i did wrong and i swear i will never do it again."

His gaze pierce your eyes and something in you suddenly recall your words. You raise a hand to his scarred cheek, caressing him gently and lovingly.

"Was it what i said to you? Gods, i've upset you with my words. Darling i'm so sorry."

"Stop it, will you?" Aemond removes your hand from his face, sighing. "Just...stop it, i beg of you."

"I'm not teasing you, i'm praising you like you do with me: i mean it, love, you talked to me in your beautiful language and you made me so happy that i called you my good boy but... i will never use those two words again, if they hurts you so much, i promise." you say. "Look at me, Aemond. I really think that you're my sweetheart, my love. I love you and i wouldn't do something so vile to you. Never. Do you understand?"

His good eye stares at you, searching for a mean grin, for something that could confirm that you were teasing him but he only read calmness and love in your features, only care and protection in your eyes.

"No one spoke to you with affection before?" you say, widening your eyes on the realization that no, maybe no one ever did. "Not even your mother, or your sister?"

You were so used to receive tons of affection from your parents and siblings that you had foolishly assumed he too was used to being complimented and loved like every human being deserves. With a sigh and a soft movement, Aemond grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer, leaning towards you and your embrace and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Oh, swee- Aemond, it's okay."

"They used to tease me using those words, i mean Aegon and our nephews. Once they brought me a pig saying here's your dragon, be a good boy and ride it. They use to mock me after the accident, when i was trying to accommodate my half sight to train with my sword... what a good boy, you hit the dummy even with an half aim. They continued even after our engagement: oh what a good boy, you found a wife, is she blind too for not seeing what you are?" Aemond says, recoiling something from his past. "I'm sorry, i didn't mean to react as i did, i'm just not used to..."

"Shhh, i understand." you gently shushed him. "It's fine, we will take a step at a time. For now i will simply use your name, okay?"

Another sighs escape him.

"It's so easy to believe to all the bad thing people says about you, that when someone says something good, it's hard for me to trust." Aemond whispers. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

[fandomtherapy44]

Coffee Meet-Ups Sam Winchester x Fem! Reader One Shot!

summary: Y/n needs a tutor, and Sam is happy to help.

Warnings: A little bit of cussing, kissing

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WC: 1,434

AN: Hey Ya'll, I thought I would do a fluff fic for our boy Sam Winchester, I've done fics for Cas and Dean, so I thought it was time for Sam. I also just put out a Dean Fic with smut if you're interested, I hope you guys enjoy!

The air is crisp and cool leaves are falling down, the sky is full of orange and brown. I could see my breath make puffs like I was smoking. People in Harvard sweaters were walking to their classes. A slight hint of cinnamon and apple drafting through the atmosphere really gives you the Fall feel. A real Gilmore Girls picture. Too bad I didn’t have the time to enjoy it. I am currently running to make it to my tutor meeting on time. 

“Excuse me!” I said rushing in between and out of people making it look like I was crazy.

I finally made it to the on-campus coffee shop. And there is my tutor looking very disappointed while looking at his watch and then at me like a mother would if you missed curfew.

“Hey, Steve I am so ready to learn all about the integration of advanced criminal law.” I try to soften everything with a smile. 

“Great, my suggestion is to sit down and open the book I’ll see you around.” He walks past me and I grab his arm.

“Wait Steve, please I will fail this class without you.” I pleaded almost begging.

“Y/n you are smart but you don’t imply yourself enough and I don’t have the time to do it for you, good luck.” With that, he turns and walks out letting the cold hit me with the realization that I no longer had the very expensive tutor that my parents were paying for. I sighed deeply racking my brain about what I was going to do and turned and ran into someone and something hot.

“Ah fuck! Shit holy that fucking-” I looked up and I saw one of the cutest guys I had ever seen. And suddenly my burn from the coffee didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry, here sit down I'll bring napkins.” he leads me to a chair very carefully. He brings napkins with cold water on them. “Agan I am very sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going and I-” He stops and does the same thing I did. 

“I’m babbling and this is the the first thing I should have asked, are you okay?” His eyes peer into mine and they are a deep chocolate brown.

“Yeah, I'm okay nothing like a mini heart attack to start the day.” I joke to lighten the mood.

“Definitely, I’m Sam.” He brings out his hand to shake. I take it and he has a nice firm handshake. 

“Y/n, so where were you going with such hot coffee so early?”

“Just classes.” 

I then see the books he’s carrying.

“So law huh? Same here.” He looks kind of shocked at that.

“Really what made you want to do law?” He asks now intrigued.

“I want to… make a difference really fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves, basic I know.” I picked at my fingernails to try to distract myself from my own self-deprecation.

“No no, I like that, a lot of people become lawyers for the wrong reasons.”

“Well, it's not like I'll even be able to come one.” 

“Why?” He asked with true wonder for some reason about a stranger.

“I am totally failing my classes that’s why I was actually here I was meeting my tutor but I screwed that up too.” 

Sam then gets an idea.

“How about I tutor you.” He says with complete seriousness.

“What no I couldn't ask you to do that Sam, I'm sure you're super busy.” I blinked my eyes not believing the offer.

“Well you're not asking I’m offering, it can be me making it up to you for spilling coffee on you so what do you say?” I look at him and his sincerity in his eyes and for some reason I believe him which is weird for a guy I barely know.

“Okay, you are on Sam.” We shake on it.

I am actually early for once to a tutor meeting. Books open, coffee ready. I didn't want to waste Sam’s time. He walks in looking cute without even trying he’s in some jeans and a brown sweatshirt matching his hair. 

“Hey, you ready?” He sat down and pulled out his book.

“Yes teach!” I pulled out my pencil and was ready. 

“Ok good.” He chuckles at enthusiasm. “So let’s start with chapter fifteen…”

About two hours later I had been taught and understood more about law than I had from my tutors and teacher. 

“Wow, Sam, I think you're the best I've ever had.” I blush at what I just said and try to quickly backpedal. “I mean I the best tutor I mean.” I mentally slap my forehead.

“Thank you and you are welcome. And you are the best student I've had.” He smiles at my clumsy put together complement.

“No way I mean I got like ten questions wrong.” I was flattered but a little shocked at that.

“Yeah I mean I don’t usually tutor and you actually want to learn unlike some people here.” 

“You don’t usually tutor then why me?” I asked hoping that it wasn't pity.

“I saw you're potential and thought you deserved a chance too.” 

I didn’t even notice that tears were in my eyes.

“Thank you, Sam. I won’t let you down!” I gave a big smile and a thumbs up.

“I know.” 

It had been about two weeks into these tutor sessions with Sam and the information was actually sticking like never before we also had started to build a friendship.

“So worst injury from when you were a kid, go.” I half demanded in a friendly way while sipping my coffee we had been an hour in but got distracted by talking about our childhoods I can't even remember who asked the first question.

He sits back in his chair thinking for a moment. “Mhh I broke my arm when I was four.”  

My eyes light in surprise. “Really!? How?” 

“I had followed my brother on top of a shed and we were dressed as Superman and Batman and he had convinced me that I could actually fly so I jumped off and lold and behold I broke my arm so Dean had to take me in his handlebars on his fisher price bike.” he finished off with laughing and I joined in.

“Wow, I don’t know if I can top that.” I slapped his arm.

“Oh come on it’s your turn.” 

“Okay well, when I was six I sprang my ankle.” I see his face and he tries to hold back his laugh. “Hey hey, I never said it was good.” I also laugh.

“Well, I guess it's good that it wasn't worse but it doesn't really make for a good story.”

“That’s what I told you!” I then think about my test.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can pass this test?” I picked at my fingernails again.

He grabbed my hand. And directed my head to meet his.

“I fully believe in you Y/n, you are going to be a damn good lawyer.” Again I look into his eyes and believe him.

I grab my test and run to find Sam. I ran through in-between other people not caring if I bumped into them. 

“Sam! SAM!” I yelled all the way to the coffee shop with the test paper in my hand arm raised looking crazy. And I did not care. I get there and see him in there standing in line. I pulled open the door and full on ran to him.

“Sam SAM! LOOK! LOOK!” Everyone looks at me with a look at this girl who belongs in the coo-coo place. “Sam I passed!” I hand the paper to him he takes it studies it and sees the grade.

“I knew you could go it!” He picks me up in a hug and spins around in excitement. He puts me down both of us high and giddy from the good news our eyes met and we both decide to go for it. We meet in the middle of a sweet kiss. It was slow with a tiny bit of earning behind it. His lips were a bit chapped but still soft somehow. We both let go at the same time.

“Wow, that was amazing.” He said while gently grabbing my hand.

“Really, me too.” I smiled at our hands joined. “I guess it’s lucky you bumped into me.”

“And I guess I'm lucky you needed a tutor.” I giggle at that and we kiss again.

Thank you for reading!