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marvelousmando · 1 year

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"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"

Sherlock x Reader

A/N: So here's my first attempt at a one shot - the idea for this popped into my head not too long after watching Enola Holmes 2. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining. Reader is wearing a dress.

"Here we are," Sherlock said after you exited the carriage, walking up to the side of the building to peer through the nearest window.

Looking around with awe at the large home decorated with beautiful flowers and twinkling lights, you wished for a moment that you were here to enjoy the lively music and celebrate like the other guests. You could see them through the window, dressed in all their finery, dancing the night away.

Taking a breath to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand, you looked around the corner to the front of the building. More guests were lined up outside along a winding path, and - yes, as you looked closer - were holding slips of paper in their hands.

"Alright! This is simple. All I need is one of those invitations," you exclaimed with a mischievous grin, turning towards him. "So, what's the mystery item you're after?"

His dark brows immediately furrowed.

"You're not taking it."

You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"This item that I am taking is of high value to my case. It is not something I can entrust in anyone's hands but my own," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "I will slip in, break into the viscount's office, grab it, and slip back out."

You let out a soft snort.

"Sherlock, we are at a ball. Do you really expect me to believe that you won't be attention grabbing?" you said while studying the crowd through the window again. "There are a great deal of ladies in there with what looks to be barely any gentlemen. All the ladies will be constantly surveying the dance floor for their next match, waiting to sink their claws into the most eligible bachelor, and you are so very …"

Your words trailed off. You pressed your lips together, with a blushing glance back at Sherlock.

He returned your gaze, waiting, his features painted with slight curiosity.

"... tall," you finished lamely.

Silence.

A heated tension gathered between you both.

After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.

Clearing your throat and breaking eye contact, you continued on, "The point being, I would attract far less attention, and as you know, I have plenty of experience breaking and entering, among other things."

Sherlock stepped towards you.

"Two things. First of all, that was a one-time occurrence that will never happen again. You caught me on a very rare, off day." Still moving closer, he finally stopped, with barely any space remaining. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, drawing his eyes to the source of the sound.

"Second of all," his voice lowering into a gentle tone, "how could you ever think that you would not be the most eye-catching woman in that ballroom?"

Lifting his hand to turn your face up towards his, you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. Resting your hands on the sides of his coat, you began to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, framed with the most -

-"Even if you're not … tall, was it?" he teased, interrupting your runaway thoughts.

You huffed, glaring at him while taking a step back, causing Sherlock to drop his hand.

He immediately offered his arm. Upon taking it, you two strolled over to the front to join the moving guest line.

"So what exactly is my purpose in accompanying you this evening, if not for helping you with your case?" you questioned with a raised brow while waiting for your turn along the path.

"You are simply my date,'' he answered. You immediately opened your mouth in retort. Before you could pose another objection against him, he smoothly continued, "I don't deny your skills, but I believe your beauty will attract too much attention for you to break into the office successfully."

A smile broke out on your face at his attempt at flattery with a double compliment. He watched you closely as it slowly turned into a more sly expression.

"Well, I guess that just means I'll need a big distraction." By this time, you and Sherlock were a bit closer to the head of the line, with a few more guests waiting behind you.

In a loud voice, you suddenly gasped and stared at him in pretend shock, "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it! You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Not a second had passed and the guests ahead and behind craned their heads to get a look at the famous "Sherlock Holmes" who was attending the party.

Stunned into silence, Sherlock stared at you as you pulled out two invitations you had hidden within your dress. His mind flashed back to the heated moment you shared at the side of the building, when your hands had rested right by his coat pockets. At least he wasn't wrong about your skills, he thought.

Murmurs began to break out amongst the guests remaining in line, staring more openly at him.

"What's the item?" you asked again. "If you tell me, I'll give you back your invitation," you offered with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

He sighed in defeat.

"It's a silver compass with a chain. Engraved on it are the letters, H E G." He held out his hand impatiently for his invitation, as people were beginning to break away from their spots in line to talk to Sherlock.

"I didn't say when I'd give it back," you laughed, moving farther away as more and more people approached him and started to surround him. "You're Sherlock Holmes, you'll get in!"

He wasn't worried, he knew everything would be fine with your level of talent and capable hands. Lately, Enola had been telling him that he needed to be better about giving up control when it came to working with others. He guessed this was as good a start as any.

Sherlock couldn't help but admire your cunning and quick thinking as he watched you hand the invitation over to the footman, shooting a quick glance and flirtatious grin back at him as you entered the ballroom scene.

Hardly listening to the people now crowding around him and attempting to introduce themselves, he returned the smile as a thought entered his mind.

He would just have to get to the compass first.

"The game is afoot, indeed."

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes one shot

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slvt4felix · 3 months

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I Could Never Hate You (Part |||)

Pairing -> ninthmember!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~2,700 words Includes -> Reader has anxiety, fluff, and maybe some angst due to the beef with Hyunjin Summary -> You prepare for the day trying not to let your nerves for the concert later take over. This should be easy with Minho by your side but the grudge is still being held strong between you and Hyunjin. They say time heals, but can time heal this? Author's note -> Hi everyone! Welcome to part three of this little mini series. I didn't expect for this to be even more than one part but now I'm thinking it's gonna be around 4 or 5 parts to completely finish it off. I was gonna try and make this the final part but I realized writing short chapters feels much less overwhelming to me so I decided to break it down a little bit. I hope you like it! Let me know your thoughts in the comments <3

♡ Masterlist // Previous // Next ♡

"You have got to be joking right now..." you mutter to yourself as you frantically look around the bathroom. You had completely forgot to bring clothes to get dressed in after you showered. Hyunjin left a while ago and after a few laughs with your new love, you had decided to actually get ready for the day, realizing you can't spend the whole morning alone with Minho, no matter how much you want to. There's too many things to do today.

So, you had left Minho to go take a shower without too much thought. Well obviously not much thought considering you forgot your clothes. You could easily slip your pajamas back on and go get your clothes, but they were dirty and you were clean. You hate having to wear dirty clothes after a morning shower. It was supposed to be the start to a fresh day. With a concert later tonight, you are already anxious enough as it is. The shower did help a little, but this situation, although a bit silly, is souring your mood a bit. On days like these, you just want everything to go right, so it can get frustrating when little things happen. You take a deep breath, not wanting to let your thoughts go any further.

'Hyunjin would understand' you think, saddened by the events of last night. Normally, he would be the first one you would go to when you got nervous

You sigh, annoyed with your thoughts, and grab the wrinkled sweatpants and t-shirt. It'll have to do. You guys just started dating the day before, you don't wanna scare the poor man away by immediately walking out nearly naked with just a towel to cover.

Just as you're about to slip the shirt back on, your nose wrinkled in disgust, you notice a piece of black cloth resting on the counter next to the sink. Your mood instantly shifts as an idea pops into your head.

You swiftly grab it from the sink, unfolding it so that it is no longer inside out, and just like you thought a familiar design appears on the front. It's one of Minho's favorite shirts. He must of left in here last night when he changed into his pajamas. You smile, admiring the stupid drawings on the front. They are just so fitting to Minho.

Without a second thought, you slip the shirt on, getting a whiff of Minho's cologne as it passes over your face. Looking in the mirror, you notice that it covers just enough to not be too scandalous, especially with your underwear on. Minho wasn't too much bigger than you, but the couple inch height difference and his wider frame made for the perfectly oversized shirt.

It was the perfect solution; you got to wear Minho's shirt, you didn't have to walk out in a towel, and you didn't have to put all your clothes back on from last night. And hopefully, Minho's reaction will be an added bonus.

You open the door and venture out into the room, immediately seeing Minho. He's now fully dressed since he took a shower the night before when you were busy having an argument. He's on his phone patiently waiting for you while sitting in the chair Hyunjin had vacated just about an hour earlier.

He looks up upon hearing the bathroom door open, and you make eye contact. As he does so, his soft brown hair falls in front of his eyes. He uses a hand to brush it away, lightly threading through his hair. You see his eyes widen a bit at your choice of outfit and you send him a shy smile back before walking softly over to your suitcase. You bend over, making sure everything is still covered, and grab the casual clothes you had planned for today. You always dressed as comfy as possible before you had to get into the extravagant outfits the stylists prepared for the concerts. They weren't too bothersome, but sometimes the tight clothes weren't your preferred choice for all the dancing that comes with going on stage. But hey, at least you looked hot.

You stand back up after gathering the soft cotton into your hands. You're a little surprised upon feeling arms wrap around your waist. You smile as the scent of Minho's cologne yet again fills your senses; It's one of the many things you love about him.

He pulls you closer so you’re pushed against his front, his head resting on your shoulder. Your heart starts to best faster and you realize just how comforting his hugs are. You could really get addicted to this fast.

"You look so beautiful," he says softly. His breath hits your neck, sending goosebumps down the rest of your body. He doesn't say anything, but you know he had to have noticed. You're glad he doesn't make a remark, but you know just how caring and observant Minho can be. You can't help but think he's already stored that bit of information away for another time.

"My hair's wet, and I'm not even dressed yet," you say with a giggle.

"I know, I just can't believe I missed out on this for so long," he says as his grip around you tightens slightly. You can practically feel him start to recall memories from the past few years, of the way he used to treat you. It's a wonder how this is the same man who was ignoring you just days ago. But you wouldn't trade it for the world, you would stay in his arms forever if you could. He's the same Minho you used to know all those years ago, before all the insecurities got between you two.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door pulling the two of you out of your daydream.

"God, why can't they just leave us alone," he says, rolling his eyes. You just laugh at the remark, aware of just how much Minho really loves those guys. Sure, they can be annoying sometimes, but you grow to love it.

He brings his head off of your shoulder, pecking your cheek as he moves away. Heat floods your face, despite already having a more intimate kiss with Minho the night before. Your confident that no matter how long your relationship manages to last, his affect will never wear off. Minho is just the type of person you can't help but be in love with.

He shuffles away from you and you move to go back into the bathroom, excited to finally finish getting ready for the day. Minho opens the door, not thoroughly thinking through his actions, eager to get the conversation with whoever knocked over with.

You freeze in your spot halfway to the bathroom when you hear the hotel door open. You look up, seeing Chan on the other side just as you had expected. You're not too uncomfortable since practically all the boys have seen you in this state of dress before. After years of being in the same group, it's difficult not to walk in on each other. You don't mind too much anyway.

However, this may be one of the instances where a quick glance may be your downfall. Minho's shirt and no pants may be a bit too much for Chan to not question anything. Chan can be very scary when it comes to stuff that could affect the group as a whole, and a relationship could definitely do just that. Let's just say confessing to Chan was not one of your goals for the day.

"Hey Minho, we're having breakfast downstairs before we head out for the concert venue. So once you guys are ready just meet us down there," he tells your boyfriend. You can see a small smirk form on his lips as he says the last sentence. You know he's probably thinking about the plan the boys had formed last night to make you and Minho stay in the same room. If Chan was in on it, then everyone was in on it.

While waiting for Minho's response, Chan raises his head to see around him. You assume he's looking for you to ensure the other man will actually pass the news on. The two of you make eye contact, and it's unsurprising as you watch his eyes widen upon taking in your outfit. Your blush deepens, instantly ducking away into the bathroom, not wanting to be under his scrutiny any longer.

You finish getting ready, trying to block out the conversation from right outside the door. You honestly don't even want to know what Chan said after that whole fiasco.

When you go back into the main room, Chan is gone thankfully. He must of still had a few more of the boys to wake up.

Minho and you make your way downstairs to get breakfast together with the guys before it's time to head out for the busy day. Typically, hotel food isn't all that exciting for you. You much prefer to stop at a cafe or some other restaurant on the way, but today, waffles in the middle of a hotel lobby don't sound half bad.

On the way, you walk side by side, your heart skipping a beat whenever Minho looks your way. You glance down as he subtly touches his pinky to yours. You haven't had many relationships before, falling victim to the lack of romance related to the industry you’re in, so you can't help but wish to have the typical teenage romance you hear about in movies. You've dreamed of it for years and the fact that it's finally happening makes excitement bloom in your chest.

Minho takes the hint, clasping your hand in his, sending a smile your way. Emotion floods your body, making you feel as if you could take on the whole world with just his hand in yours.

When the two of you enter into the breakfast area, you subconsciously drop his hand, suddenly aware of how many people are around, fans and members alike. Felix looks up, noticing your presence and waves you over. There's two seats available, one at the end of the table next to Jeongin and the other next to Felix, which also happens to be directly across from Hyunjin, who all of a sudden looks a little too interested in his food.

Without a second thought you go to take a seat next to Jeongin, but Minho beats you to it. He flops down in the seat smiling cheekily.

'Asshole' you think, falling back into the habit of calling Minho names. He may not hate you anymore, but that doesn't diminish his love for annoying the absolute shit. However, instead of making you roll your eyes in annoyance, it makes your hands twitch by your side, nerves flooding your body head to toe. You know it was his plan, but it really is not helpful at all right now.

Felix smiles up at you, yet if you take all the tension into account it could arguably be a grimace. He pulls the chair out, and you take a seat; your back is a little too straight and fingers are still picking at your cuticles. You don’t want to raise any questions, but sometimes you really can’t help your nervous habits.

There had been plenty of chatter when walking up to the table but it had stopped suddenly upon Felix waving you over. It hasn’t resumed since, and the looks your members are giving each other are not subtle in the slightest. It’s obvious they know something.

Just like you had thought, word must have gotten around fast. It’s just a question of who spilled the beans and what it is they all think they know. Is it about the fight with Hyunjin? The fact that you and Minho had slept in the same bed? Or perhaps it was because you were seen wearing his shirt this morning?

But who knows? Before you even have time to fully ponder the questions or for anyone to break the uncomfortable silence, there’s a loud noise gathering everyone’s attention.

Hyunjin had sent one final look of panic to Felix before abruptly pushing his chair back and storming out. Everyone looked up in shock and suddenly it’s very clear that they were not aware of the fight. How are you gonna be able to explain this one? You don't even understand what happened. I mean sure, Hyunjin and you had fought and you didn't make up yet so it was uncomfortable, but you don't know why he would feel the need to make a scene like that. You guys had interacted just fine this morning. Maybe he was just uncomfortable with the idea of having to pretend everything was fine. You aren't exactly hiding the fact that you aren't happy with him right now. Due to basically being two peas in a pod, Hyunjin can usually read you like a book.

You glance over at Felix in hopes that he knows what that was all about. It's not much help when all he sends back is a shrug and an apologetic smile.

Unsurprisingly, there were few words spoken after this; the majority of the silence only being filled with concerned looks.

So breakfast was a bit awkward to say the least...

Unfortunately, that is extremely worrisome considering the schedule for the rest of the day. You guys don't have time for awkwardness and unsettled fights. Yet, you also don't have time to resolve anything. A never ending cycle of tension, how exciting. It's one of the not so fun parts of being an idol; the fakeness of everything. You just have to hope your groups acting is going to be on point enough today to not draw any attention. Fans were nitpicky and it was always best to avoid as many rumors as possible. With how close you and Hyunjin are, there's bound to be questions if you don't act all buddy buddy like you usually do.

The group takes two separate cars to the venue, and you can't help but notice the members are a little different than normal. More specifically, Minho has taken the seat next to you which is typically occupied by Hyunjin. In fact, Hyunjin isn't even in the car anymore.

This isn't the first time the cars were specifically divided out. Years ago, they had to switch which car Minho was in to keep the chaos under control. Previously, Minho had been in the same car as you, but once tensions started running high between the two of you, he had immediately been switched in hopes to keep the peace. It seems that was exactly the goal of today. God, you need to stop making so many issues within the group.

It seems that as the day progresses things are just getting more stressful. Hyunjin is avoiding you, and you can't help but feel as if you're messing up the group's dynamics. Suddenly, you're reminded of the awkward encounter with Chan this morning. If he figures out everything that has happened, is he going to be frustrated with you? Maybe you just never really fit in the group to begin with.

With every mile closer to the venue, you feel like you're approaching your doom. This is not the right mental state to go on stage, but that wasn't exactly an option, now was it?

So for now, you simply grip Minho's hand tighter, hoping to quell the growing anxiety inside you. You just have to make it through the concert and then you can resolve all the issues happening.

But it's never that easy is it?

Taglist: @armystay89 @thisisnotjacinta @silentreadersthings @seungminsapuppy @linos-kitten @hafrenstay @redstayrosie

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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steve and/or eddie with a reader who, upon first glance, is very soft and feminine (skirts n dresses n heels), but is quickly discovered to be feral. swears like a sailor and throws hands like nobody’s business. (mildly d&d and rock n roll obsessed mayhaps…) this is super self indulgent so dont feel the need to write it i’m just Obsessed with these men

Eddie's halfway to knocking some sense into the kids surrounding Dustin on the front walkway of the school when you beat him too it. Skirt swishing around your thighs, heels stomping into the grass, you shout, 'Hey, fuckwits!', and he's entranced immediately.

The chains on his belt and rings on his fingers wouldn't work half as well at intimidating the freshman as your rage-filled gaze and foul vocabulary does, and as you chew out the bullies for picking on the curly-haired boy, Eddie's eyes widen where he's looking out the window of his van.

He's surprised you don't attack them, impressed that you have the willpower to refrain from taking your shoes off and jamming the heels into their eyes. But you grab Dustin around the shoulders, tugging him out of their demented circle and storming off with him under your wing.

"Are you okay? What did they say?" You question worriedly, and Dustin placates you with his hands on your upper arms.

"Nothing! Nothing, it's fine, just- the teeth thing."

A near-animalistic growl comes from your throat and Eddie doesn't know whether to be aroused or terrified.

"Those assholes!" You huff, one heel stomping into the sidewalk.

"It's fine," He assures you, catching sight of Eddie's van, "Wait! Wait, come with me, I need to get my bag."

He jogs up to the door and Eddie's barely able to register him, his eyes lingering on you who's trailing behind him.

"I left my bag in here during lunch," Dustin informs Eddie, "Can I have it back?"

"Yeah." Eddie nods, afraid that if he turns around to get it, you'll simply vanish. You don't, though, you're still standing there puffed with fury when he passes Dustin's bag through the window.

"Thanks," The boy grins, and Eddie nods, eyes still wearily cast over your frame, "Oh! This is my sister," He pushes you forwards, and your demeanor shifts, a polite smile falling over your previously anger-ridden features, "Y/N."

"Pleasure," Eddie grins, nearly breathless as he shakes your hand, the same one that he was sure was going to end up knocking one of the bullies' teeth out, "You two are really related?"

"Somehow," You reach up to ruffle Dustin's curly hair, grinning when he protests by swatting you away, "He got the short end of the gene stick."

"You guys-!" Dustin's jaw drops, "You're meaner than those kids were!"

"We're teasing!" Eddie reaches through the window, raising himself from his seat slightly to pull the same hair-ruffle maneuver you'd done yourself only seconds before. Dustin jogs off to your car to get away from it, shouting indignantly on his way.

"He's so dramatic," You scoff, already following after him, "Bye, Eddie, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie beams, waving as you approach your car, "Hopefully I'll see you around!"

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littleredwing89 · 1 year

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PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 1

PRINCE OF GOTHAM

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Some other characters are changed too, hopefully you’ll enjoy the cameos etc. I’ve tweaked parts of the story here and there so it suits better. I hope you all enjoy xoxo much love. Let me know if you want a tag list / to be on the tag list.

***

Roy lounged back in his leather office chair and smirked as Jason sauntered in without knocking. “And what do I owe this displeasure?”.

“Just wanted to see how things were going, you know, it is my company after all”, Jason glanced around the office. Roy liked to keep things minimal, although the addition of the little cactus was new. An almost feminine touch. He made a note to question him about that later. He’d never known Harper to take an interest in plants before.

As the office door closed behind him, arguing erupted outside, barely concealed by the walls. He raised his eyebrow and looked through the window seeing a short, stumpy man in a suit become red and blotchy in the face.

“I don’t know why we still pay that moron”, Roy grunted and waved his hand to the disagreement outside. The stubby man, Eric, was tugging at his tie as a more feminine voice dressed him down confidently.

“I can have HR carry out a performance review if you’d like”.

Jason glanced out between the blinds and saw you storm around one of the desks, straight into his vision, hands flying violently as you spoke. He swallowed as his eyes followed you; a tight fitting grey pencil skirt paired with a wine silk blouse. He raised an eyebrow in interest. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands falling down to frame your petite face. Lips painted a deep shape of rouge. You laughed venomously before pointing to one of the free standing boards, a colourful diagram adorning it. Eric shook his head and turned away, only infuriating you more. Jason smirked, enjoying the little show.

“She’s been here 5 minutes…down boy”, Roy chuckled and grabbed something from his printer. Scrawling his signature across the bottom.

“You say that like you'd wait even 30 seconds”, Jason scoffed, a little embarrassed and slightly impressed at how well Roy could read him.

Roy looked up from the papers and grinned, “I give at least 3 to 5 working days as a courtesy before I pounce”.

Jason felt his stomach churn at the thought. He spun around quicker than he would have liked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh...so you’ve tried then?”.

“What’s it to you if I have?”, Roy grinned, noticing Jason’s reaction.

“I want to see if she has taste”, Jason quipped and turned his attention back to the escalating discussion outside. Hoping to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. You’d now dragged the whiteboard across to Eric, jabbing at one of the PowerPoint slides before rubbing your temples in frustration.

Roy scoffed to hide the laughter before getting out of his seat strolling across to Jason to hand him the signed papers, “You know, she’s the woman that saved you 500 grand last week”.

Jason frowned upon taking the paperwork from Roy, “I don't remember hearing about it”.

The white haired man shrugged to the shouting, “Take a wild guess why, Todd”.

“He played it as his own victory?”, Jason’s gaze fell back to you. Eric was crossing over your work on the board with an ugly red marker, sneering at you. Jason felt his temper surge at the blatant disregard for your hard work and effort. His brow creased at the unfamiliar emotions swimming in the back of his mind.

Roy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, a dark grin on his lips, “Oh! So you do have a brain”.

Jason rolled his eyes, rolling his broad shoulders, “Contrary to popular belief, yes I do”.

Roy laughed deeply as he watched you with Jason through the window, your irritation bubbling over as you repeatedly jabbed your pen to the graphs on the board, voice becoming louder with every word, “She’s a real pistol”.

“I can see”, Jason hummed appreciatively as you stalked off towards the coffee room, the skirt pulling tight against you, highlighting the curve of your ass perfectly.

Eric looked flustered as the rest of the staff in the room stared at him following the heated exchange. He shouted something to them, causing them all to bow their heads behind their computer screens. Roy grumbled something under his breath Jason couldn’t make out. Eric turned towards Roy’s office and stiffened when he saw both men watching him. Jason smirked at him, giving a subtle wave before turning to Roy, “You know what, I will send HR down this week to investigate”.

***

You checked yourself in the mirror of the elevator again, nerves making your stomach somersault. The dress had been an extravagant splurge but the moment you laid your eyes on it, you knew you had to have it. It was a floor length, backless crimson dress with a daring thigh split. You ran your hands down the front of the fabric, the satin soothing your clammy palms.

Your hair was curled loosely and draped down your bare shoulders, lips a dark red to match your dress. Briefly, you hoped, you hadn’t gone overboard with your outfit. The invitation had said ‘formal wear’. The elevator dinged and before you could think too much, the doors slid open revealing you to the party. You heard someone gasp in the distance and that’s when the entire room turned to your direction.

You were used to people staring at you in the office because of your fiery attitude but this was different. You felt your skin prickle. An odd sensation driving through your nerves. Everyone had paused to stare at you as you stepped into the room. The music faded in the back of your mind, replaced by the hammering of your heart. You straightened yourself and strode into the room with all the false confidence you could muster.

His eyes. Jason. You could feel them burning more than anyone else’s. He’d stopped mid sentence when you entered the room, cigarette left smoking in his hand. He was surrounded by his executive team, including your area manager, Mr Harper. Whilst you felt heat spreading across your cheeks, you felt somewhat pleased you’d stunned your loud mouthed CEO into silence. Roy had slapped Jason on the back, a dark smirk on his face drawing his attention away from you. He glared at Roy before taking a long drag from his cigarette, continuing with his conversation as though nothing had happened. The group of suited men dissolved into barks of laughter.

You needed a large drink. Preferably a strong one too if you wanted to last the night. You headed straight towards the bar, as fast as your towering heels would allow.

———

Jason patted one of the executives on the shoulder, making his excuses before striding across to you as you leaned against the bar, your bare back on full display. He swallowed thickly, you looked majestic under the glittering fairy lights draped around the room.

He settled next to you at the bar, clearing his throat before speaking, the deep timber of his voice rattled your core, “I think...I've seen your face before”.

You rolled your eyes at the terrible opening line before turning to face him. The black suit fitted him perfectly, showcasing his broad shoulders, his blood red tie knotted tightly against the collar of his crisp white shirt.

“Probably during one of your lonely nights over a bottle of chardonnay”, you lazily waved your hand at him.

Jason smirked at your attitude and laughed, “You think I’m chatting you up princess?”.

You pursed your lips together, nodding, “It certainly sounded that way to me and I really don’t know what else you would do after swaggering away from that crowd just to talk to lil’ old me”.

“I simply had to talk to the woman who stunned the room into silence”, his smooth voice sent shivers over your skin, oozing charm. You imagined it worked on every woman he encountered. It almost worked on you.

“Very smooth Mr Todd”, you teased and tried to wave the bartender down with no luck. You sighed and cursed under your breath.

Jason clicked his fingers, drawing the attention of the waiter immediately, “Two large glasses of Malbec please”, he winked at you when the bartender reached to the top shelf of liquor, “I know who you are”, Jason gave you a devilish smile, “You’re the 500 grand woman”.

“Y/N”, you winked and wiggled your finger at him in a joking fashion. The grin on your face widened when the wine was set down in front of you both. The rich, spicy smell drifted up your nose.

You dug your hand into your purse but Jason shook his head, “It’s on me”.

“Oh”, you clicked your tongue playfully, “You’re too kind”, you smirked at him.

Jason wouldn’t admit it, but he knew exactly who you were. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he laid his eyes on you last month. Your spitfire attitude had spread through the office and you’d made quite a name for yourself. Cutting impressive deals and smart talking anyone who tried to shoot you down. The only thing Jason had lacked was an opportunity to talk to you.

He held up his glass of whiskey and looked down at you, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, “A toast”, he leaned down towards you, his hot breath fanned across your cheek, “To Y/N”, his voice dipped lower, a gravelly rasp, “The most beautiful, enticing woman in the room”.

“You forgot to add smart”, your voice sounded more breathy than you intended, giving Jason an idea of the effect he was having over you.

He winked, “The most beautiful, enticing, smart mouthed woman in the room”.

“To me”.

You clinked your glass with his before bringing it to your lips, taking a long sip. The alcohol burnt your throat in the best way, the deep red of your lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Jason couldn’t help but stare at the smudge, wondering if it would stain as nicely on his skin.

Downing the drink in one, Jason placed the glass on the bar, the bartender rushed over quickly, leaving the bottle of red wine next to Jason before scurrying off. Your tongue darting across your lips, savouring the taste of the luxurious drink.

Jason watched you closely, you felt alive under his burning stare, “I hope you’re enjoying working for The Iceberg Lounge”.

“Of course, Sir”.

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his lips. The way you said it. The way your lips wrapped around the word Sir, how easily it rolled off your tongue. He took a deep breath. You riled him up with little to no effort.

You glanced around the gala, almost everyone from The Iceberg had turned up. Hundreds of people were braying in the room. Dancing, drinking, laughing and screeching. The music thudded in the background, the bass thrumming through your body. You had to hand it to Jason, he certainly knew how to host a company party. Well a man in charge of a chain of bars should really.

Jason gripped the bottle of wine swiftly, “It's getting rather lively in here princess, fancy a drink and a smoke on the balcony?”.

You nodded, grabbing your clutch from the bar. You sashayed through the crowd easily, Jason following close behind you. Slinking through the throes of people, you smirked to yourself. You were playing with fire but, you had to admit, you liked the heat that came with it.

———

When you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze whipped around your body, nipping the bare skin on show. You shuddered slightly, looking up at the night sky. You were high enough that you could finally see the stars. They twinkled innocently, making you smile to yourself.

Jason placed the bottle of red on a nearby table, looking across at you. You looked even more stunning under the midnight stars. He coughed deeply, working his way across to the railing you were leaning against, “I’m surprised that you came alone, I find it hard to believe you struggled to get a date”.

You turned to him, your chandelier earrings dangling in the breeze, they captured the starlight and flickered elegantly, “I like coming to these things alone”, you mused, a coy smirk on your painted lips, “I like to see who else has come alone”.

“Oh”, he inched closer, the soft brush of his suit jacket against your bare arm made you flush, “So you’re on the lookout?”.

“Maybe”, your fingers wrapped around the metal bar and you looked over the edge. The bustle of Gotham City never ceased to amaze you, even at this height. And there you were, gazing at it with its unofficial Prince standing next to you.

Jason grinned, letting a cool finger stroke down your upper arm, “I might be able to help with that”.

You smirked, looking up catching his heated stare, “Are you going to introduce me to one of your rich friends?”.

“Trust me princess, they’re not your type”, he scoffed, his eyes tracing down the neckline of your dress, mapping every inch of your tantalising skin. He noticed a faint sparkle of glitter on your skin, along with a subtle scent of vanilla invading his senses.

Moving away from the balcony edge, you stepped into his space, fingers grasping the end of his tie, playing with it gently, “And what is my type?”.

Jason felt an unmatched desire burning in his gut when your hands toyed with his tie. He took a deep breath before cornering you into the balcony railing. His eyes were hooded with lust, “I know exactly what it is”.

The bitter metal pressed into your lower back and you bit back the moan creeping up your throat, desperate to escape. You snaked your hand up his solid chest and straightened out his shirt collar, “Well don't keep me in suspense, Sir”.

It was taking all of his self restraint not to bend you over the balcony and rail you from behind, especially when you kept calling him Sir. His hands gripped the balcony bar behind you, knuckles white from the force. Jason smirked, his voice dropping several octaves, “I can show you instead princess”.

The heat from his body was addictive and you leaned into it without thinking, breath catching in your throat. His aftershave was intoxicating and you felt your mind spinning. Jason pulled back suddenly and offered you his hand.

You slipped your hand into his and bit your plump bottom lip, “People are going to see us leaving together”.

“So?”, Jason shrugged, “Then they know we're going to have some fun, aren't we princess?”.

You shivered, letting his words drip over you. Oh the night was yet to begin and your heart was thrumming with excitement. You secured your fingers through his and started to pull him back inside so you could both leave.

“Of course Sir”.

The second you were back inside, Jason’s free hand wound around your waist, guiding you towards the elevators. He leaned down, hot breath fanning down your sensitive neck, “Yours or mine?”.

You pressed the down button on the lift pad a little more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You felt him smirk behind you, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Mine”, you whispered before slipping into the cart when the doors sprung open.

———

The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with subtle touches and increasing tension. You’d expected Jason to pounce on you the second you slid into the backseat but he didn’t, simply keeping one arm around your shoulder, the other resting on your exposed knee drawing feather light circles.

“Keep the change”, Jason muttered, shoving a wad of cash through the divider before helping you out of the car.

His hand pressed into your lower back, rough fingers scraping against your soft skin. You shuddered, excited to feel his touch exploring the rest of your body. You led him through the marble floored lobby and up a flight of stairs, stopping outside of your door to retrieve your keys from your clutch.

His lips pressed into the junction of your neck, tongue lapping over your skin which flushed rapidly under his touch, “Hurry up princess”. You felt Jason’s hand stroke up the front of your dress, palming your breast greedily before pinching your nipple.

You gasped at the rush of sensations, almost dropping your keys. The overload of his touches made you shudder and your eyes close, head dipping forward.

“Unless you want me to fuck you out here for everyone to see, I suggest you get that door open”, he growled, lips teasing the shell of your ear. His cock was straining against his suit trousers as he brushed it against your ass, groaning quietly.

Steadying your hands and your frayed mind, you slotted the key into your door, opening it as quickly as possible. Before you had any time to think, Jason crushed you against it, slamming it shut, his lips plastered to yours in a frenzied heat.

You moaned, the noise swallowed by his mouth as his tongue glided along yours. He could still taste the wine on your lips, mingling with your own sweet flavour. You dropped your bag and ran your hands up his chest, reaching his tie. Tugging it hard, you loosened it, enough to free him of it and start unbuttoning his shirt.

Jason smirked and sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, enjoying the gasp of pleasure you released. You looked into his darkened gaze, giving him a sweet innocent smile before pushing him back against the hallway wall. His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he allowed you control, stroking the pads of his fingers up and down your spine.

With the last button popped open, your nails dragged down to his belt, unfastening it slowly, licking your lips.

“I bet this is what you thought about didn’t you?”, you teased, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, slowly, “Me on my knees for you, swallowing your thick cock”.

You palmed him through his boxers, watching his face twist with held back desire. Your lips curved and you dropped to your knees, eye level with his hard shaft.

Jason groaned quietly, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tighter when your lips ghosted over the outline of his throbbing cock.

“Princess”, he warned huskily, voice laced heavy with lust.

The stings of pain as he pulled your hair shot down to your core, lighting up all of your nerves. You mewled and mouthed his tip, “I thought about it too…Sir”.

His hips rutted towards your face at your words and you grinned. You pulled his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock sprung free, slapping against his rippled abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, aching for him to sink into both your throat and pussy.

You nipped along his thick, muscled thighs, your lipstick smearing as you neared his pulsing length. He tensed with each bite and growled loudly, cock twitching with excitement.

“Princess if you keep-”, the words died in his throat when the wet heat of your mouth encased his cock in one swift motion. His head flung back, eyes scrunched shut at the feeling.

You purred around his shaft, tongue fluttering along the underside, tracing the vein there. Your hands stroked up and down his thighs as you worked your lips around him. Bobbing your head back and forth.

Each time you whined around him, the vibrations buzzed up his spine, sending his mind into a delirious haze of pleasure.

“Fuck!”, he grunted and fisted his hands into your hair, thrusting forward into your hot mouth.

The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged around his cock, whimpering with desire. He caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes black with passion.

“Your lips look perfect wrapped around my big cock”, he smirked and thrust harder into your mouth, the wet, sinful sounds echoing in the hallway of your apartment.

Your pussy was soaked and each time you shuffled, the lace of your thong rubbed against your clit. The sensation made your skin flush but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.

Jason sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you swallow his cock. Your once perfect lipstick was smudged all over your mouth. Some stained his length. He groaned as you pulled back, tracing your tongue over the slit of his tip, hands kneading his inner thighs perfectly.

“Sir-please…”, your voice was raw as you spoke, wide eyes searching his, “I want you”.

He let his thumb run over your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lips wrapped around it without second thought, sucking softly. Jason dipped it down your chin before hooking it underneath, “Come here”.

You stood slowly, adjusting the strap of your dress which had fallen down your arm. Jason bracketed your hips and lifted you easily, letting your toned legs wrap around his waist. His lips moulded to yours, kissing you deeply. He could faintly taste himself on your tongue, the bitter arousal sparking through his body.

———

He carried you with ease through your apartment, occasionally banging into things along the way.

“Second d-door”, you moaned loudly when he bit your shoulder, “on the-the right”.

When you finally made it into your bedroom, after several stops along the way with Jason shoving you into the nearest wall, he dropped you down onto the bed.

You inched up the bedding slowly, watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. You made no show of hiding how much you admired his finely sculpted body. You licked your lips as his muscles flexed when he knelt onto the bed, grabbing one of your ankles.

“You’re wearing too many clothes”, he complained as his fingers travelled up your bare leg before finally reaching the hem of the dress.

“What are you going to do-”, the tear of fabric was loud in the room, Jason’s face was knitted with desire.

“Jason!!”, you scolded loudly as he continued to rip the flimsy material off your body, leaving you bare beneath him in a skimpy lace thong. You watched as he threw the offending material to the floor, his predatory gaze turning back to you.

“Get on your knees”, he commanded, ignoring your protests about your once beautiful dress, “Now”.

You wanted to argue, but the twisting coil in the pit of your stomach made you comply readily. You saw his pleased smirk before you rested your head against your forearms, pressing your ass and core to him.

He whistled appreciatively, slapping his hand over one of your cheeks. You moaned wantonly, muffling your cries into the flesh of your arm.

“Don’t you dare”, he growled and spanked you harder, your skin becoming hot and prickly, “I want to hear every sound you make”.

The thong you had on framed your ass perfectly, barely covering your glistening pussy. He smoothed two fingers through your silken core, sinking them into you slowly. Jason grunted when your walls tried to pull him further.

He removed his hand and spread your wetness along the back of your thigh, pushing your thong to the side. You whined in protest at the loss of sensation and pushed back. Jason gripped your hips tightly, halting your movement, “Tell me what you want princess”.

Heat crept over your flushed skin as he teased you, the tip of his cock sweeping through your sopping folds. You ignored his question and circled your hips, mewling his name.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back forcefully, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, “I said, tell me what you want”.

“Your cock”, your moans were depraved as you felt the overload of euphoria thrumming through your veins, “I want you to fuck me”.

Jason kissed the spot behind your ear, sucking a mark there before muttering, “Where are your manners princess?”.

You dug your nails into the sheets below in frustration before panting desperately, “Please Sir, please fuck me”.

He chuckled darkly behind you, tugging your hair again, before sinking his cock into your pussy fully. You cried out at the delicious sting as he stretched your walls with his thick girth.

Jason gave you no time to adjust before slamming his hips back into yours harshly, keeping your hair wound around his fist as he thrust into you.

The air was filled with the sounds of your debauched moans and his skin slapping into yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your first orgasm hit you without any warning.

Jason cursed behind you as your velvet walls spasmed around his cock, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became shallow as he drove harder into you, working you through your climax.

Changing the angle of his thrusts, the head of his shaft slammed against your g spot repeatedly as he ploughed faster into your pussy. You sobbed his name into the bed sheets, gripping them tightly. You were certain your nails were going to rip through the fabric.

“That’s it princess”, he coaxed, tugging your hair back, “I know you’ve got another one for me”. He snaked his hand around your front, rubbing over your clit furiously.

“Jason!”, you cried his name loudly, vision going blank as he fucked you into another powerful climax. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he fell into his own release, emptying himself in your tight core.

“Fuck!”, he rasped, releasing your hair and holding onto your hips as his thrusts slowed down to a complete still.

Pulling out of you, he groaned under his breath as he saw some of his seed drip down your folds. You collapsed down onto the bed, flat on your front, fighting to catch your breath. Jason dropped down next to you, relaxing on his back, his own chest heaving with deep pants.

You hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time. If ever. With the last of your energy, you rolled onto your side, a sly grin on your face, “Got time for another?”. Your fingers stroked down the grooves of his abs, following the dark trail of hair.

Jason grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, nipping at the pulse on your wrist, “Definitely”.

He pulled you on top of him, his hands moving up to cup your breasts as your lips danced together again, drinking in each other. You knew he would only be here for the night but, you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make the most of it.

***

#jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #ceo!jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader insert

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fromabasementonthehilll · 6 months

Text

Braids

☾𖤓 ~ Summary: fluff basically

Pairing: Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Warnings: ...

Original request

Soccer was a big deal for your friends. You were meant to join, back when everyone else did, but you opted for cheerleading instead - dancing in front of the bleachers with bright pom poms. Today, the Yellowjackets soccer team were playing against state rivals, and your team was there, as per usual. Everyone was there, the players warming up in the changing rooms. You watched the coach set up the field from afar in your awfully tight cheerleading uniform, waiting for the the game to start.

"She cheers for you louder than she ever did for her boyfriend." Van laughed deeply, stretching her legs and waiting for Lottie to laugh with her. "Yeah, well, the boys team kinda sucks." Tai intervened, Van just let out a weak 'yeah'. "Ex, boyfriend." Lottie insinuated, giving Van a pouty look.

As the Yellowjackets ran out, your eyes landed on Lottie, your best friend of 5 years now turned into some secret relationship. She gave you a grin plastered in excitement, and you returned with a warm smile. Next, the opposing team ran out, but the cheer was louder for the Yellowjackets, as per usual.

This morning you spontaneously showed up to Lottie's house, at about 6:30. Of course, she was still asleep, and you weren't surprised to see a bed-haired, droopy eyed Lottie answer the door. "What the hell, y/n." Her voice was raspy, her shirt inside out. "I'm helping you get ready for your game!" You lit up, ignoring her obviously altered state of consciousness. She had to agree, letting you in as you took it upon yourself to make coffee whilst she got dressed. She came back and fell onto the kitchen island chair, still partially unconscious. "Excited?" You smiled, handing her a mug, "I shouldn't be awake right now, you know." Lottie sighed.

You spun around to face her back, in awe of the sheer size of her house, how lonely Lottie seemed in it, and the absence of her parents. The kitchen was open, it connected to the first floor area, where the staircase was built directly parallel to the kitchen. Everything was awfully plain. A single chair rested beneath the staircase, against the left wall - behind which was a hall leading to one of few bathrooms, and the dining room. No decor, not even a picture frame; one plant near the front entrance to make it seem somewhat homely. Lottie's room was on the second floor, you always admired the artsy look it had in contrast to the rest of the rooms, and you could tell she mostly adhered to her parents expectations - keeping it to a minimum, but you recognised her efforts.

"Want me to do your hair again?" You focused your attention back onto Lottie. She hummed and nodded. The couple of hair bands that were on your wrist - now held with your teeth. You parted her hair into two sections after brushing it out. A flush of pink reached Lottie's ear as she stayed quiet.

Maybe you being there got rid of the isolation, because each time you'd come over her eyes softened, her touch was gentle, and her smile was genuine. But this time, and it happened often, she was still on edge. It could've been because of the game today, but she was usually confident about those kind of things, so you assumed it was the usual. "What classes do you have today?" She asked plainly. "Chem, math, and;" you paused, "I don't know." You gave up, finishing on one braid. "Practice, you've got practice." She said and laughed. You had completely lost track of what you were meant to be doing today, too focused on Lottie's schedule rather than yours. "I forgot." You whispered with fabricated shock, Lottie giggled in a hum, as you loosened the finished braid and moved onto the other one. She always let you do her hair - whenever you'd ask. Sometimes she would be the one to ask, but only ever to 'fix it up' or 'check if it looks alright', otherwise she just enjoyed when you would take it upon yourself.

And you; you loved everything about doing her hair. The slight curl it had against your palms, how she softened against you, and the same dark, woody tones in your field of view.

After a few times of dropping the bands held by your teeth, scolding Lottie for moving too much and laughing carelessly, causing you to let go of a carefully untied braid, you had finally finished. "Done." You wrapped your arms around her neck from behind her, giving a small kiss to the top of her head. She thanked you, and the two of you left.

"...get it right, girls." Your team captain finished, right before the victory cheer. The Yellowjackets won, of course. You chanted, this time louder than the one before the game, jumping up and down as your revised choreography went. You noticed that most of the girls doing cheerleading were extremely serious about it, but you weren't there for the all star cheer, it was just a pastime, an extracurricular. Liking dance was enough for them to offer you a place, and besides, it would look good on your résumé.

A slight shame trailed the rival team, and you felt slightly bad, but for the most part you were happy for your girlfriend, and you knew how much going to nationals meant to her.

Lottie scored the most goals, her face ridden i pride as they went back to the changing rooms, each one of them leaping around the place manically.

You stood behind the locker room door, and instantly pushed yourself off of the wall as you saw Lottie walk out, a grin still plastered onto her face; she turned to you in surprise. "Hey!" She beamed, almost jumping up, "you were so good out there, Lot." Your eyebrows curved up, "couldn't have done it without you." A chuckle echoed across the hallway, it felt odd somehow to be in school at this hour - and in all honesty, you were exhausted, and so was Lottie. "Sleepover at mine?" She perked up as the two of you began to walk back, you had already changed out of your cheer uniform, carrying a duffel bag that held it, wanting to just get rid of that extra weight. "Obviously."

She didn't live that far away, about a 15 minute drive in her sedan, and playing music from her expensive car speakers was something you'd always looked forward to.

Once you got there you dropped your bag at the door step unknowingly, wanting to just fall onto the couch. And as much as Lottie's house felt like home to you, you decided to stay around just for a while more. "You want anything? Tea? Hot chocolate?" You began making your way to the kitchen, "you're the guest here, let me take over." Lottie insisted, staring right into your tired eyes. "You won a big game tonight, c'mon, just let me make you something." You pleaded, half sarcastically, already cautiously taking a cup from the cabinets whilst giving your best puppy eyes.

She gave in and agreed, and suddenly you were making her a drink - just like this morning. Lottie ran upstairs to get dressed, and you carried two cups after her, settling them on the coffee table in the upstairs living room. The TV was off, and in all honesty you preferred it that way, no noise apart from the subtle music Lottie had turned on in her bedroom, just down the hall from the living room. She came in wearing a loose t-shirt and pyjama pants, you; still in your after school clothes. She fell onto the couch, her eyes almost fully shut. A single warm light illuminated the room, and it was small compared, but it remained the only half-nice light in the whole house. The rest were just too fluorescent.

"Come here." You whispered, looking her up and down as she shuffled and lazily laid her head on your chest. You could tell she was tired, really tired, so asking if she was felt like too stupid of a question. Instead, you tangled your fingers in between her hair, playing with the front pieces before taking the bands out. A smile curved against your chest, making you grin back.

Today was one of the first days where you and Lottie went to bed early, usually worrying if you'd manage to make it to first period, but she was too exhausted today and you were going along with whatever she did. And as much as you wanted to change out of your clothes to finally get some sleep, getting up felt like an even worse idea than sleeping in them.

You continued unbraiding her hair, gently undoing the curls with a faint expression. "Promise I'll be more fun tomorrow." She whispered against you, eyes closed. You let out a slight chuckle in response, setting the bands onto the coffee table and falling asleep on the couch.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets oneshot #lottie x reader #lottie matthews x reader #lottie mathews

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intern-seraph · 2 months

Text

i will wait (and hope)

book 7 spoilers! malleus/gn!reader

also on ao3

Malleus is afraid of the Prefect’s dream. Or, well, he’s afraid of what it could be. After all, there’s a chance that he’s not a part of it. He’s visited several dreams since he cast his blessing upon Sage Island, and many hadn’t included him. Understandable, he’s not close to many of his peers. But if his newest and dearest friend, the very human sleeping peacefully in his lap at the moment, doesn’t see him as essential to their perfect world..? He’s not sure what he’ll do. Still, the urge to satisfy his curiosity urges him to take a peek. Just a little one! So, with uncharacteristic hesitation, he throws himself into their dream.

When he opens his eyes, Malleus finds himself standing in an unfamiliar bedroom. The walls are built of immaculate stone brick that reminds him both of his dorm and his home. It’s the same size of his dorm room, or just about, and decorated in much the same Gothic style: black and green dominate the color scheme, but there are splashes of other colors that catch his eye. A pink heart-shaped pillow on the luxuriant onyx bedsheets, a few posters for things he doesn’t recognize on the walls, foreign tech in stark white and electric blue. The most conspicuous item hangs proudly above the bed’s headboard: a lavishly-decorated certificate framed in silver. He takes a few steps towards it, intent on reading what it says, but a sudden, powerful sense of magic draws his attention towards the floor-length mirror next to the wardrobe. He turns, eyes wide, as the mirror’s surface warps. Two hands emerge from the swirling glass, bracing against the frame, followed by one foot, then a second. Finally, a familiar face bursts from the mirror. Malleus is struck silent as his Prefect stands before him. Older, perhaps, but still his Prefect in all their loveliness.

They sigh and dust off their trousers. Mid-patdown, they finally meet his eyes. A brilliant smile blossoms on their face, and they rush to embrace him. He whispers their name, and they laugh. “Hey, honey. I know I was supposed to be home at the end of the week, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“Honey.” “Home.” Malleus feels dizzy when he hears those words. Before his stunned silence drags on for too long and makes them suspicious, he says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but I know my Hornton is strong enough to last for a month while I’m away.” They pull back, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before they walk over to the wardrobe. He watches them change into a more comfortable set of loungewear — looking down at himself, he finally notes that he’s wearing a soft black robe that matches one hanging in the wardrobe — and tries desperately not to ogle their bare body as parts of it are exposed. As they dress, they continue to speak: “My family’s asking about you, you know. They want to have you over again sometime soon, maybe for our holidays? It’s not for another month and a half, so there’s plenty of time to coordinate with your advisors and maybe even convince Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and possibly Grandma Maleficia to come with us.” They pause and look back at him, eyes twinkling with warmth that turns his insides soft and gooey. “No pressure, of course. They just want to get to know you, is all. After the honeymoon, there’s been so little time between your duties and my work to really bond more as a family.”

“I shall see what I can do. I, too, want to get to know everyone better. After all, they are my family now as much as they are yours.”

The Prefect, done changing, takes his hand and walks him over to the bed. He follows dutifully, sitting beside them and letting them rest their head on his shoulder. “I’m so happy that everyone’s getting along so well. I was worried, y’know, when we got the gate to work. Like, what if everything had changed since I arrived in Twisted Wonderland, what if everyone forgot about me, what if they didn’t want me back, all of that. But it’s been wonderful. I’m so happy I can share this with you.” They wrap their arms around his waist, and he feels his heart seize in his chest. “I love you, Malleus.”

Throat tight, he replies, “I love you, too.”

#malleus draconia #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #malleus x reader #malleus x yuu #twst malleus #twst fic #twst spoilers #my writing #seraph speaks #book 7 spoilers

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lendeah · 4 months

Text

After the Weave 3.

series masterlist

Summary: Elara and Astarion go to the ball with the aim of securing support, but navigating high society comes with its own set of perils.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD.

Word count: 4.3k

Also on AO3

"Godlike power, perhaps I can live without, but you?

You're everything"

The memory tugs at my mind, that moment beneath the rich purple sky, when everything felt within my grasp beside him. I can still see it clearly - the way his eyes gazed at me, filled with adoration and vows of forever. But now, as I finish tightening the corset with a sharp pull, the long red ball gown hugging my curves perfectly, I realize that those were just empty promises. Lies upon lies.

The crimson silk hugs my curves beautifully, though as I walk the long halls, each step becomes a battle against the uncomfortable fabric that makes me trip repeatedly. A beautiful dress indeed, but one that brings discomfort and pain with every move. Just like Gale's love.

Astarion is waiting by the entrance, looking as disinterested as ever, his face a mask of boredom. He is dressed in a crimson and black suit that hugs his form in all the right places. I can't help but admire how the fabric accentuates his lithe frame, the way it compliments his pale skin and emphasizes the white of his curls.

As his eyes finally land on me, something changes in them. There's a flicker of surprise and admiration before he quickly masks it with his usual sneer.

"That is a nice dress, I wonder who made it. They sure are talented, for making you of all people look regal."

I roll my eyes, "I don't even know how they got all my measures right. I mean, I don't think anyone has ever measured me, to begin with."

Astarion smirks, his eyes roaming over my form with a hint of amusement."Ah, well, I do recall taking your measurements once. However, that was quite some time ago, my dear, so you may have forgotten it."

I frown, and then a flicker of a memory flashes through my mind, and I can see Astarion's skilled fingers and his concentrated expression as he took my measurements with meticulous precision.

"You shared my measurements with a seamstress to make this dress?" I ask, surprised that he went to such great lengths for our work at the grand ball.

Astarion's eyes become unreadable for a second, and then he nods. "Yes, of course. It wouldn't do for you to arrive at the ball looking anything less than perfect." His tone is laced with sarcasm, but I can sense a hint of sincerity behind his words.

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "You never cease to surprise me, bloodsucker." I say, approaching him slowly. "Thank you for your help."

His smirk softens into a small smile and he bows slightly in response. "It was my pleasure, Lady Elara."

His voice is dripping with mock formality, and I can't help but chuckle at his antics. I gesture towards the door. "Shall we, Sir. Ancunín?"

Astarion extends his arm to me like a gentleman, and I take it gratefully, feeling strangely comforted by his touch.

Just as we are about to step into the grand carriage, he stops and turns to face me once again. "Are you absolutely certain about this? We can stay here if you'd like, especially after... the missive."

I wince to myself. I knew he would want to talk about the letter sooner or later, but I thought I had done a pretty good job avoiding the subject for the past few days. Aparently, it hadn't been enough.

"Yes, I'm sure. The sooner we get this over with, the better." I say dismissively.

He looks at me intently, his eyes searching for any signs of hesitation or doubt. Then, his expression softens as he nods in understanding. "Very well then, shall we go?"

We climb into the grand carriage, and make our way towards the palace where the ball is being held. The ride is a quiet one, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I steal subtle glances at the man in front of me. He looks mesmerizing, as always, with his white, tousled hair falling just so over his forehead, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. His crimson eyes, usually filled with mischief, now hold a hint of worry that he's trying to conceal, and I have to fight the urge to smooth the lines that have formed in his forehead.

I catch myself staring and quickly avert my gaze, focusing on the passing scenery outside the carriage window. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the city. Lately I feel like I'm constantly living in the night, between the walls of the Palace. I guess that is how Astarion's life has felt in the last few months, back in the shadows without the tadpole giving him immunity to the sunlight. I can't help but pity him, as the memories of his pale body basking in the morning light flash through my mind.

As we near the palace, Astarion finally breaks the silence between us. His voice is softer than before, almost hesitant.

"When was the last time you practiced the art of sorcery?" he asks, with his eyes still fixed on the window.

I feel myself freeze up at the question. It's been months since Gale left, and with him went my motivation to even touch a spellbook or scroll. Every hint of magic reminded me of him, and I couldn't bring myself to face that pain again.

"It's been a while," I admit reluctantly. "Since Gale left."

Astarion nods in understanding, but there is a hint of dissatisfaction in his expression. "That's a shame. You were good," he says firmly, finally looking at me.

I meet his gaze, feeling a mixture of gratitude and irritation. Astarion always had a way of cutting through the chaos in my mind and speaking truths that I didn't want to confront. He was right, of course. I had allowed Gale's departure to shatter not only my heart but also my connection to magic. A wave of regret washes over me as I realize how easily I had let go of something I loved so much, how easily I had forgotten myself.

"I know," I reply, my tone softer than I anticipated. "It's just... difficult. Every time I try to conjure a spell or tap into that part of myself, I can't help but think of him."

"Ah, I understand the pain of reminders all too well," he murmurs with a wry smile. "But Elara, you cannot let him, or anyone for that matter, define who you are or what you're capable of. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for."

His words stir something within me, an ember of determination that has been smoldering beneath the ashes of heartbreak. Perhaps he's right. Perhaps it's time to reclaim my magic. But not now, I tell myself, there would be time for that after we finish doing what we came here to do.

As we step out of the carriage and into the entrance of the castle, my mouth falls open. I didn't even know such extensive grounds could fit in Baldur's Gate's narrow streets. The palace, lit up by hundreds of lanterns and torches, looks like something out of a fairytale. The gardens are filled with colorful flowers and fountains, and the marble steps leading to the entrance are lined with statues of ancient gods.

Astarion catches me staring in awe and smirks. "Remarkable, isn't it? A chance to join the illustrious Duke at his grand ball is a rare privilege indeed."

"Wait, Duke? As in Duke Ravengaard? As in, Wyll's dad?"

Astarion nods, "Yes, the very same. I'm surprised you didn't know, it must've slipped my mind to tell you." But the mischief in his eyes tells me he most definitely didn't.

As we make our way into the grand ballroom, I find out the grand hall is just as breathtaking as the exterior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm golden glow on everything below. People dressed in extravagant gowns and suits dance to music played by musicians in one corner of the room. As Astarion and I enter the room, all eyes turn towards us with a flurry of emotion. Some gaze at us with curious intrigue, while others openly display their desire. But the dominant reaction is one of pure fear, evident in the way they shrink back and avoid eye contact.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have resurfaced at the sight of so many eyes on us. Astarion must sense this, because he takes my hand on his cold one and squeezes it reassuringly.

"Relax," he whispers with a smile. "Just be your usual 'Savior of Baldur's Gate' self and you will be more than fine."

As we reach the ballroom, I can see it is filled with high-ranking officials, nobles and other powerful figures, all dressed in their finest attire. I try to remember the individuals Astarion had taught me about, but there are too many and the names and occupations are mixing in my brain. In a sea of unfamiliar faces, one stands out amongst the rest. Duke Ravengard approaches us, with a welcoming smile dancing on his lips. He reminds me so much of Wyll that a wave of emotions hit me like a punch to the gut.

Before I can even say anything, Astarion steps forward and greets the man with a respectful bow. "Your Grace," he says smoothly, "allow me to introduce the Savior of Baldur's Gate. Rumor has it, she once saved you from certain death in the not-so-distant past."

I feel my cheeks heat up at the remark. The Duke's eyes widen in recognition before a warm smile forms on his lips.

"Ah, Elara. What an honor to see you again," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I've heard tales of your brave deeds for our city, and we are all in your debt."

I manage to give him a small smile and a nod.

"It was a pleasure, sir."

He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Modesty becomes you, my dear." He says with a smile. A flicker of sadness appeared in his eyes as he asked "Have you happened upon any news of my son? I recall that the two of you were once close friends."

My heart sinks at the mention of Wyll. I haven't heard from him since he left for the Avernus with Karlac, but seeing how important Duke Ravengard is to him, I decide to be honest.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard from Wyll in quite some time."

The Duke's expression falls slightly but he nods understandingly. "I see. Well, if you do happen to come across him in your travels, please let him know that his father misses him dearly."

"I will," I promise solemnly.

He pauses for a second, and then adds "But let us not dwell on the past tonight. This is a night of celebration and joy!"

As the Duke leads us further into the ballroom, Astarion walks beside me, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and mischief. "Well, well, Lady Elara," he whispers. "How greedy you are, relishing in all the glory"

I roll my eyes at his teasing remark but can't help but feel a sense of pride bubbling within me. Standing in the midst of power and privilege, I can't help but feel that maybe I do deserve this recognition.

As we continue to mingle among the crowd, a smooth voice catches my attention. I turn to see a blonde elf woman approaching us, drink in hand.

"Ah, Astarion, dearest," she says with a charming smile as she reaches us. "What a pleasure to meet you again."

Astarion smiles back at her and gives her a slight bow. "The pleasure is all mine, Lady Shaphyra."

I remember now. Her name is Lady Shaphyra Boldsong, daughter of one of the most influential elven families in Baldur's Gate. And she and Astarion seem to know each other quite well, by the looks of it.

"I see you have brought a lovely companion with you," she says, turning her gaze towards me. "The Savior of Baldur's Gate, no less. And she is a half-elf! What a delightful surprise."

I feel my cheeks flush once again as I am introduced for the second time tonight. But Lady Saphyra doesn't seem to mind as she bows towards me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she says warmly.

I bow back. "Likewise, Lady Saphyra."

She turns back to Astarion, with a sly smile on her lips. "I couldn't have imagined you keeping such remarkable company. Is she also lending a hand in funding the hospital?"

I tilt my head and raise a questioning eyebrow in Astarion's direction, but he remains unfazed. As if sensing that it's now my turn to take the lead, I clear my throat and confidently interject into the conversation, "Actually, Lady Saphyra, I have been heavily involved in the fundraising efforts for the hospital. It's a cause close to my heart, after the catastrophe we lived."

Lady Saphyra's expression changes, her eyes widening in surprise. "How wonderful! I must say, you are quite the impressive lady, Elara."

Astarion gives me a small nod of approval before turning back to Lady Saphyra. "Indubitably, my dear, she is a remarkable creature indeed. I daresay, any assistance we can offer in tending to these unfortunate young ones is most welcome. Even more if the help comes from someone as bewitching as yourself."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at Astarion's practiced flattery, his smooth words and charming smile all too familiar to me by now. However, Lady Saphyra appears taken with his act, as she giggles and sips her drink before responding, "You are quite the charmer, Astarion. But I am glad to hear that you both are involved in such a noble cause. I may consider helping myself, if you treat me to a dance."

He takes her delicate hand in his and guides her gracefully towards the dance floor, their movements fluid and elegant as they join the other couples swaying to the music.

I watch them go with a mixture of amusement and relief that everything is going as intended. The rest of the night unfolds with a whirlwind of introductions and conversations. Astarion seems to know every person in the place, with most of them regarding Astarion with respect. I find myself seamlessly switching between engaging in political discussions with influential figures and gracefully gliding across the ballroom floor in elegant dances, all of this while convincing the nobles to join our very worthy cause. Just as Astarion had predicted, my presence was enough to sway many into following through with his plans.

At some point during the evening, we are approached by a group of people. Among them is who I recognize as Sir. Paddock, a human man in his sixties with silver hair and piercing green eyes. He is one of the most influential magistrates in the city, and also someone Astarion explicitly told me to beware of.

"Sir. Ancunín," he greets us with a bow before turning to me with a charming smile. "And Lady Ella, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I give him a polite smile despite him getting my name wrong.

"You know, I didn't imagine the Savior of Baldur's Gate to be so appealing to the eye," he says with a raised eyebrow and lowers his eyes down my chest just enough to make me uncomfortable.

"Thank you for your compliment, Sir Paddock," I say stiffly.

He chuckles as if he's amused by my reaction before turning back to Astarion.

"So tell me," he says in a lowered voice, "what brings such extraordinary person here tonight in the arm of a man of the night, of all people?"

My jaw tightens at his words and I feel Astarion tense beside me. I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself.

Astarion flashes his signature smirk, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Ah, Sir Paddock, always the observant one," he says with a playful tone.

"Actually, Mr. Ancunín is doing a lot of important work for the betterment of this city," I say firmly.

The man just raises an eyebrow skeptically. "And do these 'important' labors involve the draining of a certain vital liquid?" he asks with a sly smile.

The people around us shift uncomfortably at his words, although I can hear some chuckles.

I stand my ground, not allowing his insinuation to rattle me. "No, they do not".

Astarion leans in, his smile never wavering."Ah, Sir Paddock, you wound me with your choice of words," he replies smoothly. "But as for Lady Elara's presence here tonight, she graces us with her company as both a hero and a benefactor to the hospital fund. We are fortunate to have her support."

Sir Paddock's smile falters, but he quickly regains his composure."A hero and a benefactor? Impressive indeed." He glances between us, a glint of suspicion in his eyes."Well then, I apologize for my bluntness. It's just that Astarion here has quite a reputation in the city."

"I assure you, Sir Paddock, that Astarion is a changed man now," I say confidently, placing a hand on Astarion's arm for emphasis.

Sir Paddock studies us for a moment.

"You seem like an accomplished and respectable young woman," the man continues, ignoring my previous statement. "You don't need to waste your potential with... this thing."

His words strike a nerve within me and before I know it, I am speaking without thinking. "Mr. Ancunín may have a past that some frown upon, but he has proven himself time and time again as a valuable asset to this city," I retort "he is the most caring, ambitious, hard working and loyal person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. And none of you would be here if it wasn't for his labors." I finish, my voice quivering with rage.

The surrounding crowd falls into a heavy silence, their eyes darting between the three of us. Astarion himself wears a stunned expression, his typically composed demeanor momentarily cracked.

But the man just chuckles condescendingly. "Oh dear, it seems like you have quite the temper on you," he says with amusement. "But mark my words, Miss Ella. Associating yourself with someone like that will only bring you down in the eyes of this society."

My fists clench at my sides as fury courses through me. How dare he speak about him like this? Despite all of Astarion's faults and past mistakes, he has been nothing but good to me and the city. Hells, he is keeping 7000 spawn alive as we are talking!

Before I can respond, Astarion steps forward "Ah, Sir Paddock, always one to jump to the most scandalous conclusions. I assure you, Lady Elara and I are engaged in far more noble pursuits than you could ever dream of."

I shoot Astarion a grateful smile. Sir Paddock's eyes narrow as he studies Astarion. "Well, well, the rogue with a heart of gold. You've certainly managed to charm your way into the hearts of Baldur's Gate's elite, haven't you?"

Astarion smirks and bows slightly. "Charm is my specialty, dear sir. It seems even the most discerning individuals can recognize true talent when they see it."

Suppressing a laugh, I instead give his arm a tight squeeze in appreciation for his backhanded compliment.

"And now, as lovely as it has been talking with you, I believe I owe this beautiful woman a dance, so if you'll excuse us" Astarion says smoothly, extending his hand towards me.

Sir Paddock studies us for a moment "Oh, of course," he says with a forced grin. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your dance."

I glance at Sir Paddock, a smug smile gracing my lips, before placing my hand in Astarion's. With a bow, the vampire leads me away from the group, towards the dance floor. As we glide across the dance floor, the tension from our encounter with Sir Paddock slowly dissipates. The music envelops us, its melodic notes weaving through the air as if casting a spell of tranquility upon the room. I can feel his eyes on me while we dance, his hand resting gently on the small of my back, guiding me with effortless grace. I try to push the earlier confrontation out of my mind and focus on our mission, but I can't help but feel guilty for losing my temper.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, breaking the silence between us. "I overstepped and almost blew our plan."

"You handled Sir Paddock admirably," Astarion whispers in my ear, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and mischief. "You have quite the fiery spirit, my lady."

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks at his words, my heart swelling with a warmth that I hadn't anticipated, "Thank you, Sir Ancunín."

For a moment, I forget about the tensions of the evening and lose myself in the rhythm of the dance.

As we sway together amidst the sea of elegant couples, Astarion leans in closer, his voice barely audible over the music. My back shivers at the closeness to his body, the feeling of his cold fingers grazing my open back.

"My dear Elara," he begins, his breath tickling my ear, "Your strength and resilience have always been a source of envy for me. But there is something I find ever more admirable from you."

"And what is it that you find so admirable?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Astarion pulls back slightly, his gaze fixed on mine. "It is your unwavering belief in the goodness of others, even in the face of their doubts and prejudices."

A small smile tugs at my lips as I listen to Astarion's words. His observation warms my heart.

"I'm not sure if that is entirely true," I say. "I have made plenty of mistakes believing others in my life."

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he tightens his grip on my waist."Don't we all?" Astarion replies. "But I've seen you in action, Elara. You have a way of bringing out the best in people, even when they don't see it themselves."

I swallow hard, his words resonating deeply within me. Astarion's observations of my character always manage to surprise me, as if he can see into the depths of my soul. For so long after Gale left, I had felt lost and disconnected from the world, but his presence back in my life had brought about a newfound clarity, a sense of purpose.

"Thank you," I say softly.

As the music begins to fade into another song, Astarion pulls me closer, his grip on my waist firm yet gentle. The room around us seems to blur into insignificance as our eyes lock, a silent understanding passing between us.

"Can I ask what Gale's letter said?" He says, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

I tense visibly at the mention of the piece of parchment, tripping on my own feet. But Astarion quickly catches me before I fall.

"I-I don't know," I stutter, trying to regain my composure.

Astarion's eyes narrow slightly. "You don't know? Did you not read it?"

I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. How much should I tell him? In the short time we've been living together, Astarion has already opened himself to me in more ways than one. Yet, I can't shake the feeling of shame that washes over me at the reminder of the words written in ink.

"He said that he has started crafting Karsus' Crown" I blurt out.

Astarion raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up on my discomfort. "And that's it?"

I give a slow, resigned shake of my head. "He also said that it's over, that I should forget him and move on with my life." I say, my voice heavy with disappointment, "Oh, and of course, he made sure to mention that he's not coming back, which I guess was to be expected at this point." I laugh bitterly.

Astarion's expression turns serious at my words. "I'm sorry, Elara," he says quietly. "I know how much Gale meant to you."

"It's fine," I say with a shrug, trying to brush off the sadness that threatens to consume me. "I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it."

Astarion studies me for a moment before speaking again. "How do you feel about it?"

His question lingered in my mind. How did I feel about it?

"I...I don't know," I finally answer truthfully. "Part of me is sad, of course. But another part of me is relieved."

Astarion looks at me curiously, and I can tell he wants me to elaborate. So I take a deep breath and continue.

"I've been holding onto this hope that maybe one day we would get back together. For so many months, I really hoped he would give up his power for me," I say, feeling slightly embarrassed at my admission. "But now I can finally let go of that hope and move on with my life."

A small smile appears on Astarion's face and he nods in understanding. "I think that's for the best," he says softly.

I nod in agreement, grateful for his support and understanding. We continue dancing in silence for a few moments before Astarion speaks up again.

"You know, dear," he begins hesitantly. "He on no account ever deserved you."

I glance up at Astarion, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. I'm about to ask him what he means by that, but before I can even part my lips, a blood-curdling scream shatters the stillness of the room. In an instant, Astarion's hand is clasped around mine and he is pulling me towards the source of the cry. The corner is filled with a sea of nobles, their faces contorted with fear and shock. We push our way through the crowd, struggling against the tide until we finally reach the head of the gathering. And there, lying on the floor in a pool of crimson, is Duke Ravengard. And his lifeless body bears two deep puncture wounds decorating his neck.

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little-diable · 1 year

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Burnt Brownies - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

What can I say, we all just love undercover!Hotch, don't we? Please like and reblog, if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: A new neighbour moves into the house next to (y/n)'s – Mark (Aaron), a tall, handsome man she falls for far too quickly. All good things come to an end eventually, and sometimes people aren't what you may think they are.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), CM violence, some angst

Pairing: Undercover!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (3.2k words)

The sun was breaking through the blanket of clouds, following (y/n) through the streets she kept jogging through, rays lingering on her face. It was an early morning, barely anybody was awake yet, so it took her by surprise as she stumbled upon a tall man, dressed in sports clothes, moving into the same direction as she was. It took her a few moments to recognise him, the tall man that had moved into the house next to hers only yesterday, greeting her with a smile that had left her heart racing.

He waved at her, moving closer to fall into a matching pace, “Morning, (y/n), I hope you don’t mind me joining you.”

“Oh no, don’t you worry. Did you settle in fine?” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her smile from spreading, taking in Mark’s handsome features, the dark hair paired with eyes darker than the November sky at night. She barely paid his reply any of her attention, still caught up in her wandering thoughts, wondering why a man like him would move into their area without any wife or children.

“So, tell me, who’re our neighbours, whose name should I remember?” Her chuckles echoed through the morning as they took a left turn, slowly making it back to their street. She pondered over her words for a moment, wondering how much she should tell him, if she should give away her dislike for most of the people living in the houses close to hers.

“There are Betty and Dave across the street, they are sweet, like to invite neighbours over for weekend drinks. We also have Marie and Katy, they live in the house next to yours, a young couple I haven’t seen around much. Oh, and there’s Mike, but he isn’t one for socialising.” She didn’t notice how the tall man next to her furrowed his eyebrows, focusing on the last bits of information (y/n) just had shared with him.

“What do you mean by “not one for socialising”?” They slowed down their pace, falling into a slow jog as they found their street, already seeing their houses from afar. (Y/n) deeply exhaled, eyes flickering down to her watch, watching the last few seconds fade by on her timer.

“He likes to stare, but won’t really speak to you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice before.” A soft chuckle clawed through (y/n) to try and ease the heaviness lingering around the two. Mark’s eyes met hers, and with a smile pulling on his thin lips he nodded his head, coming to halt in front of (y/n)’s house.

“Same time tomorrow?” It took her a second to reply, smiling at Mark as she nodded her head, murmuring a soft “Can’t wait”.

—

Soft music echoed through the supermarket, guiding (y/n) through the aisles, trying to pick up a few things for the weekend ahead. She had her eyes concentrated on her phone, rereading her shopping list, hoping that she won’t forget the most important items.

“Let me guess, you’re trying to figure out what to bring to Betty and Dave’s tonight?” A raspy voice echoed through the air, forcing (y/n) to jerk, surprised by the sudden interruption. Her eyes found Mark dark ones, instantly making her smile widen as she took in the frame of the handsome neighbour.

“Are you stalking me, Mark?” (Y/n)’s chuckles seemed to have an addicting effect on Mark, forcing a rough one out of him as he lightly shook his head. She couldn’t help but take in his frame, the dark purple dress shirt he was wearing, paired with dark trousers that seemed to add a few inches to his height. Fuck, for the past week her thoughts had kept wandering back to him far too much, fully hooked on the man that now joined her morning jogs, telling her more about the accounting job he was working, how he had been desperate to leave the big city.

But even though she had clearly made a joke, (y/n) couldn’t help but notice how his smile fell, murmuring a soft "I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable?”

“Oh no, please, I enjoy running into you.” Her hand found his forearm, slightly squeezing before her mind managed to catch up with what her hand was doing. Gingerly (y/n) pulled her hand away, cursing the heat that flushed through her like a tsunami wave threatening to pull her under. “And yes, I have no clue what to bring to theirs.”

“I think wine should do the job?” Mark showed her the bottle he had placed in his basket moments ago, listening to her soft chuckles.

“Maybe I’ll bake something for them, I was thinking brownies?” Her eyes wandered back down to her phone, wondering if she needed something else for her baked goods, knowing how picky Betty was with whatever guests brought over.

“Brownies it is! Will the others also join?” Mark followed (y/n) down the aisle, helping her reach for the items she still needed, trapping her in an awfully homey feeling. Her mind couldn’t help but imagine how spending her weekends with Mark would play out, casually dating the man she felt all too comfortable around.

“If you’re lucky you’ll meet Katy, Marie’s out of town, I’ve never seen Mike at Betty’s though.” She was too focused on her items to notice how the man next to her began to tense at the mention of the man’s name, eyes flickering down to her features. He only hummed, placing his items down to pay for them as (y/n) sorted through hers. “If you’re up for it, you could come over and bake the brownies with me.”

Her confidence only seemed to grow as Mark smiled at her, helping her pack her shopping bags, “I can’t promise that I’ll be of any help, but I’d love to join you. I’ll come over at five?”

—-

“More wine?” Mark started refilling their glasses before (y/n) even got a chance to reply, concentrating on her brownie batter. He had joined her minutes ago, helping her with a few ingredients, but mainly sticking to sharing comments that made her laugh, giving away small bits and pieces of his past baking experiences.

“I’ll be drunk before we go over there, if I mess up the brownies it’s your fault, I hope you know that.” She turned towards him with a smirk, not expecting him to stand this close. For a few moments they were engulfed by silence, eyes flickering down to his lips, wondering how the evening would play out if he’d kiss her, pulling her focus away from their evening plans. (Y/n) broke eye contact first, focusing on pouring the batter into the moulds, pushing them into the oven.

“Here, let me at least do the washing-up.” Mark softly pushed her away, hitching up the sleeves of his dark shirt, exposing his muscular forearms. (Y/n) stepped away only to find rest on her kitchen island, sipping on her wine as she watched him clean. Fuck, she was in too deep already, would offer her everything to the man she had known for the past two weeks.

“Feel free to come by more often to do my dishes.” (Y/n) chuckled at the way he raised his eyebrows, body fully turned towards her with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He studied her for a few moments before he moved closer, settling between her dangling legs, hands placed on the kitchen island. No words were spoken between the two, pulled closer by the pull (y/n) felt inside her chest, urged on by the wine that warmed her from inside. Neither of them were drunk, not even tipsy, but the wine managed to drown out the daunting thoughts (y/n) had been guided by.

He decided to move first, breath fanning over her skin, eyes meeting hers for one last time before he closed the gap, kissing her carefully. It didn’t take long for (y/n) to snap into motion, arms finding their way around his neck, tongue finding his, forcing a deep groan out of the man. Her eyes fell close, relishing in the feeling of his wandering hands, how his fingers stroked her soft skin, finding rest beneath her shirt.

“We need to stop, otherwise we won’t manage to make it over there by seven.” Mark’s voice had grown raspy, clearly giving away the arousal thumping through his veins, guided by the desire he felt. She could only shake her head, pulling him in for another bruising kiss, not ready to let him go just yet.

“I need you, fuck, please.” He studied her for a few moments before he gave in, slightly swollen lips pulled into a smirk.

“I’ll take my time with you later, but we gotta be quick.” She pushed him away, hand reaching for his to pull Mark towards her bedroom, gasping as he gave her a rough push, back pressed against her mattress. He towered over her like a god, dark eyes staring down on her as if she was Persephone, abducted by Hades; spring would blossom soon, urged on by the heat he pushed through her.

Mark fumbled with her shirt, pulling her free from it with her bra and trousers following moments later. His clothes followed soon, shirt unbuttoned by her shaking fingers, moving down to his belt to free his hardening cock. (Y/n) didn’t dare break eye contact as she spat into her palm before she wrapped her fingers around his cock. His breath hitched in his chest, staring down on (y/n), how she pumped him slowly at first, trying to adjust to his size.

“Can I taste you?” Her soft whispers left him groaning, freeing the breathy “Yes” that burned on the tip of his tongue. Her tongue followed the veins wrapped around his cock, following them up to the tip, sucking on it before she decided to take more of him. The corners of her mouth burned, struggling to take all of him.

(Y/n)’s gags echoed through the room, glassy eyes taking in his pleasure drunken features, not daring to look away. His veiny hand found her head, guiding the bobbing movement of hers, adding more speed to her pace. She could stay like that till the end of this very night, pleasuring the man she never wanted to part from again, addicted to his sounds, to the way he tasted and felt.

Her tears kept dripping, rolling down her cheeks like the first rain that had fallen onto the dry earth after Hades had pulled Persephone into his trap, binding her to the underworld, one with the dead souls crossing the river Styx.

“Just like that, doing so well for me, pretty girl.” Mark’s praises left her walls clenching around nothing, needing to be filled by him, wanting to feel his cock buried deep inside of her. She felt him twitch in her mouth, soon he’d give in, releasing himself down her throat with a groan of her name, and yet he interrupted the moment before he could give in. “Need to fuck you now, before I lose my control.”

(Y/n) moved up her mattress, reaching for a condom Mark pulled from her hand, watching her push her soaked panties down her legs, exposing herself to his darkening eyes. He crawled up her frame, staring down on her as one hand found her core, fingers brushing through her dripping folds, collecting drops of her arousal he spread on her pulsing bundle. Soft moans left her, ringing in his ears like a symphony made by the gods, inspired by the pull both felt deep inside of them.

“Please, Mark, fuck me.” For a second he stared down on her before he aligned himself with her heat, eyes not leaving hers as he pushed into her. She tensed, eyes falling shut to breathe through the new sensation, needing to adjust before she could nod her head, allowing him to fuck her.

Mark didn’t waste any time, pulling out of her tightness to only add more strength to his thrusts, fucking her into the mattress. (Y/n) had her eyes squeezed shut, fingernails leaving scratches on his back, clawing herself into his skin. Both knew that they wouldn’t last, urged on by the pressure the last days have pushed upon them, building up the heat that thumped through their bodies.

Their moans reverberated through the bedroom, echoing off the walls, a sound (y/n) would remember for days to come, caught up in the memories of this very evening. Her legs trembled, back arched as his fingers found her clit, circling it a few times to give her the last push she needed to fall off the edge. She moaned his name, pulling him down right with her.

He fucked her through her high, letting go with a soft gasp he groaned into the crook of her neck, lips finding her soft skin. Both were heavily panting, caught up in the feeling of their highs, not paying attention to the passing by minutes, nor to the burnt smell lingering in the air. It took them both too long to snap out of their trance, disappearing into the bathroom to redress before they emerged from her bedroom.

“Oh fuck.” (Y/n)’s gasps gained his attention, watching her take in the burnt brownies, glistening eyes finding his. Both couldn’t help but chuckle, sharing another kiss before he murmured “Guess the wine will have to do” against her lips. And even though he left her house to pick up his wine, rejoining her moments later, (y/n) knew that she never wanted to part from him again.

—-

Both knocked on Betty and Dave’s door, waiting a few moments before they knocked again. They were a few minutes late, struggling to let go of one another, wondering if they should bail on their neighbours.

“Do you think they forgot?” (Y/n) asked as she knocked again, reaching for the door handle. The door was unlocked, allowing the two to step into the house. Both called their neighbours names, stepping further into the house, wondering where the others were. It took them a few moments to move down the hallway, freezing as their eyes found the scene in front of them.

Betty and Dave were sitting on the sofa, eyes focused on Mike, who had two guns pointed at his neighbours. (Y/n)’s eyes found the wide ones of Betty, watching the tears drip down the woman’s cheeks.

“Well, finally, we were waiting for you.” Mike chuckled his words, pointing one gun at (y/n) who instantly raised her hands, not daring to move.

“Put the guns down, Mike. There’s no need for them to get hurt.” Mark spoke softly, too softly for (y/n)’s liking, not understanding why he acted so calmly. “Look at me, Mike.”

“Shut up!” Mike grew more agitated, tightening his hold on his guns, eyes flickering between the four neighbours, clearly unsure who to focus on. Mark took a step closer, halting as Mike pointed both guns at him, screaming a panicked “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot them!”

“Listen, Mike, there’s no way out of this, the game is over.” (Y/n) shot Mark a confused gaze, not understanding what he was talking about, why he seemed to know more about Mike. “You won’t make it out of here, but I promise your parents won’t manage to hurt you again.”

“You know nothing about my parents!” Mike kept screaming, pointing his guns back at the other couple as Betty cried out, panicked by the situation. (Y/n) didn’t dare let her eyes move back from Mark, gasping at the gun he pulled from the back of his trousers, pointing it at Mike.

“Do you hear this Mike?” For a few seconds silence lingered in the room, allowing all five of them to focus on the sound of sirens, making relief widen in (y/n)’s system – and yet the feeling didn’t last long, confused by Mark, his words, his gun, wondering what was going on. “They’ll be here any moment now, put the guns down, I don’t want to shoot you.”

A panicked cry left the young man, eyes squeezed shut as he let go of his guns, gasping as Mark caught his frame, pushing him to the ground, murmuring words (y/n) paid no attention to. All she could do was watch the door being pushed open by armed officers, stepping into the house. A pair of handcuffs were pushed into Mark’s stretched out hands, arresting Mike before he was pulled off the ground.

It took Mark a few moments before his eyes found (y/n)’s, pushing past the other officers to find his way to her, “Are you okay?”

“Who are you?” Her voice had a tremble to it, and yet it carried no emotion. (Y/n)’s glassy eyes gave away the confusion she felt, caught in the emotions flushing through her, unsure what had just happened.

“C’mon, let's talk outside.” She reluctantly followed him outside, arms wrapped around herself as they came to halt in front of her house. “My name’s Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. We’ve been watching Mike for a while, but we needed to get close enough to him, it was only a matter of time till he’d go for your neighbours. He was hunting down people that reminded him of his parents, an act of revenge for their abuse.”

“Did you use me for information?” Her voice was small, unsure what she could and shut trust.

“I was hoping you’d tell me more about him, but everything I told you was real, well, besides my name, my job and my family. I didn’t sleep with you because of information or something like that, what I feel for you is very much real and I’d like to keep following this, wherever it will lead us, if you’ll let me.”

“I need a bit of time to think about this.” Aaron nodded his head, murmuring a soft “Of course” before he reached for his wallet, pulling a card free.

“Here, my number’s on there, call me whenever you feel like talking.”

—

Days have passed since that very night, days (y/n) had spent with wandering thoughts, unable to focus on anything but the thought of Aaron. Every now and then she had reached for her phone, wondering if she should call him, and yet she had been held back by the confusion she felt.

She missed him, more than she’d like to admit, guided through the uneasiness she was trapped in. It was late at night when she finally found the courage to call him, fingers trembling as she waited for him to pick up, unable to bite down her smile as he picked up the phone with his rough voice.

“Aaron, hi, it’s me, (y/n). How do you feel about some coffee tomorrow morning?”

#Aaron Hotchner smut #Aaron Hotch imagine #criminal minds imagine

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white-poppie · 1 year

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𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞

Character: Mafia!Sakusa x Civillian!Reader (Based on the poll) Genre: Mafia AU, Yandere Warnings: blood WC: 0.5k+ Writer:@white-poppie

~ Synopsis: "When Sakusa meets a kind and fearless stranger with similar taste, he can't help but fulfil their rather vicious desires."

~ Note: This is very rushed! My exams are starting soon and I wanted to gift something to you guys before I vanish *poof*

Sakusa was a level-headed man. Smart, cunning and sometimes even manipulative if he might. It wasn't a choice, it was a necessity in the profession he was in.

But right now he was submerged in the twilight zone of obsession and desire. Since he met you, he hasn’t been himself.

Sakura Kiyoomi, the leader of the Japanese Yakuza faction called ‘The Black Jackals’ has a history of distaste for humans in general. He is just slightly concerned about his hygiene and health. As a child, he suffered from a weak immune system. Therefore, as he grew older and the responsibility of the gang came upon his shoulders, he had to be even more cautious about getting sick.

He first saw you at a museum he was visiting. He liked to see his crime scene before committing the crime. He was casually looking at the pieces until one of them caught his eye. A fierce-looking woman in a black dress stood on a medieval balcony looking towards the sky. Her eyes were red and distant and her beauty was so enthralling, one could almost ignore the blood on her figure.

It was spellbinding, the way he automatically moved closer to the frame, until his chest came into contact with something soft. He looked down to see a person, brows scrunched up in distaste, but with a very unkind smile on their face.

"Apologies," he said gruffly and you were taken aback by how melodic his voice sounded unlike his clothes, which looked like he had walked straight out of a 12-year-old girl's fantasy.

"It's fine," you sighed, "you may have to be the second one mesmerized by Madame Hien's beauty."

He tilted his head in question.

"The painting," you replied. "It's called 'Madame Hien'."

He looked back up at the painting. Such exquisite artwork, surely anyone would be enamoured by it, but why were only the two of you there?

"You said the second one. What is that supposed to mean?"

You smiled and looked ahead. "Madame Hien has a reputation for being cursed." You crossed your elbows and looked back at him.

He piped, "aren't you scared?"

"What is there to be scared of? Its a painting, art is supposed to make the comfortable uncomfortable. The artist wanted to make it famous by spreading this rumour however unlike other 'haunted paintings', luck didn't side this one. It didn't become famous."

A deep laugh reverberated through his chest. "such a shame, a masterpiece like this in a secluded corner of a tiny museum owned by the government."

You chuckled at his words, "You talk like an anti-communist during the world wars."

He crossed his hands behind his back, "It's a shame really, this painting deserves so much more than this."

You sighed longingly, "sometimes I wish it had a better place to exist."

You look at her black dress, "wish someone would be kind enough to steal it from this godforsaken place."

He smirked and looked towards you, "for an ideal citizen , you talk really dark."

You smiled and answered, "perhaps, law is there to break anyways."

"So hypothetically if I ever plan on doing something illegal, can I count you in?"

"A hundred percent!" you laughed and fished for your business car, "feel free to call me if you ever want to do something illegal."

Sakusa was hesitant to feel another human's touch, but he agreed, "got you."

You looked at your watch in a hurry, "oh no I have a meeting in an hour!"

Quickly you started heading towards the gate, before stopping dead in your tracks, "wait I never asked your name."

He hesitated as he stared at the floor quietly. "Kiyoomi." He said without mentioning his family name.

You flashed him a smile, "Y/N L/N."

BREAKING NEWS: 'Minor painting in the city museum was stolen. The painting titled, 'Madame Hein' which was infamous for cursing those who saw it, has been stolen. The bizarre fact os that the CCTV footage of the entire day of the museum has been erased completely. The thief left the following message graffitied on the museum wall where the painting used to be.

"It's in a better place now, stranger. See you soon." -- K

⤷‧₊˚ HAIKYU!! (ハイキュー!!)

🥀 BYI/DNI ♡⌇ Request Rules 𓏸 🗝️ ₊﹒《 Join my Taglist •

TAGS: @akumicchi, @nanaseishiro, @denkis111, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp, @innerpurple, @sakinotfound, @oikawatoorupdf, , @juanasspirit, @renster05, @cleaningfairylevi

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choiwonder · 1 year

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KISS ME MORE — [ DO I GET TO CASTRATE HIM? ]

wc: 407

synopsis: it’s february! tis the season to be filled with cuddles, kisses and love! only problem is you’re single! so what do you do? cry to your coworkers about another not-so midlife crisis you’re having!! in hopes of cheering you up, beomgyu decides to set you up on a blind date. was this the best idea? no. of course not. you should have listened to the others attempts to stop you from saying yes, not aware that it’d be the parent of one of your students.

“did you have fun?” yeonjun’s voice fills the air, reaching his hand out to help you get out of the car.

your eyes immediately switch from the ground to his frame. your heart tightening to see a feature of concern dress the canvas of his face.

considering he went out of his way to participate in every game, ride and won prizes then proceeded to treat you with dinner, of course you had fun. although yeonjun promised himself and his friends that he’d stop seeing you outside of school, he just couldn’t resist the temptation to see you in special moments like these.

you smile and nod, looking away again before speaking, “it was probably one of the best days of my life…”

it was quite the disappointment to know that the night would soon be over. your footsteps were in sync as you walked along the pavement of your home, yeonjun places a hand behind your back, leading you to your front door.

he stood outside with a heavy sigh as his eyes cast down upon your figure watching you carefully place your things inside.

you turn back to face him leaning against the door frame, waiting for him to say anything, but he just... stood there — as if he was waiting for something.

"what?" you stood up straighter with a laugh.

yeonjun’s eyes meet yours and you can’t help but feel your heart beating out of your chest when he grins, tilting his head slightly at your expression, “can i?” he reaches his hands out, aiming for your waist.

“yes!” you answer, shaking your head at your sudden response. now was not the time for you to be embarrassing yourself. yeonjun’s grin widens and you’re quick to correct yourself, “i didn’t mean that! well — i did mean that, i just meant — ”

yeonjun places his hands on your waist, leaning in to mutter only two words to you.

"shut up."

before you could retaliate, his lips carefully and thoughtfully met with your cheek. he remains still for a few seconds then lets his lips graze along your ear, “i want to see you again… is that okay?” he leans back just enough to look at you.

“um, yeah…” you nod mindlessly, “that’s okay…”

“okay,” yeonjun laughs, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger before letting you go, “i’ll text you when i get home. goodnight yn.”

“goodnight!”

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note: i am never gonna give a specific gender or name for their kids cuz i’m too lazy 😭😭 so i’m just gonna say kid or kiddo the whole fic 😭😭😭

taglist: @luvrhyune @17szn @megururus @rggie @cyjlovebott @2ynjns @bubblytaetae @hyuneyeon @beomslay @kswlosver @forever-in-the-sky2 @shota-pop @surshica @blehhhidk @wccycc @suburbiataehyung @fakedanger @meowmeowhoon @ttyunz @soobst3rr @aestheticsluut @foxsunoo @randomness7198 @luvsoobs @milkycloudtyg @captivq @soobsfairy444 @90sni-ki @sulliefimmie @koeuh @yoonrimin @alpha-mommy69 @cutiespaghetti @fairy-yeo @emohazuzworld @yeonyeonyeonjun @angelbythewindow @lovejunz @shiningstar-byulxx @yeehawnana @ahnneyong @chwlogy @gwyru @alyssajavenss @ce1ight

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yellowkitkieran · 11 months

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To Have and To Heal (Part 9)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

"Those yellow heels don't work," your best friend says, her voice scratchy through your phone speaker. You set the device on your vanity and throw your hands up, noting Jen's upturned nose. She's the closest thing you have to a fashion expert, so naturally you called her an hour ago for some final advice on what to wear on tonight's date after sorting through your closet for an hour on your own.

"Well then I have no idea what to do," you whine, at your wits end as you toss the uncomfortable heels onto your bed. They land on top of the pile of discarded outfits you've tried on, none of them flattering enough for you to feel confident meeting Martin in. "This is ridiculous- I should just put on jeans and a hoodie and call it good."

Jen snorts, "Absolutely not-"

"It's probably what he's gonna wear! It could be cute if we wind up matching-"

"Babe, listen to me." You stop rummaging through your closet at the sound of Jen's teacher voice, listening instinctively to what she says. "You're not wearing something that simple. Martin has probably, like, rented an entire restaurant for you. I'm not letting you show up dressed for a date at your local pub!"

You decide against snapping back with a retort along the lines of 'actually, I don't know where my date is because Martin hasn't told me,' and opt for biting your tongue instead. It seems the better option when you've already gotten a light verbal lashing from Jen and you're loath to set her off on a tangent while you're already frazzled.

"Okay, fine. How about this?" You dig through your discard pile and pull out a red dress you tried on towards the beginning. It's simple, nothing more than a form fitting sheath of rich red fabric with three quarter length sleeves and no embellishments, but it feels like the right balance of classy and sexy. Jen hums, tapping her chin as she leans closer to her own phone until her face fills your screen.

"I like it, that could work if you pair it with that charcoal blazer you wore last week, and then those matching heels? The low ones, just in case you wind up doing a lot of walking."

After a minute of struggling you finally get into the dress and come back into the frame of your camera to show Jen. She wolf whistles, which is a sign of her approval. "Ooohhh girl that's the ticket! Do a spin- yeahhhh! That's hot, Martin is gonna lose his head when he sees you!"

"I mean I hope so, it took us literal years to pick out!" You both laugh, yours a touch awkward as your nerves begin to shine through. The ball in your stomach has gained momentum and now feels like a boulder in your gut. It weighs you down and keeps your feet rooted firmly to the carpet. You should be ending your FaceTime call and heading downstairs to call an Uber, not contemplating your outfit again to distract yourself.

Tonight's date is the highlight of your week. You've been looking forward to it since the second Martin asked you, and you hope he's felt the same way.

Maybe he's nervous too, you think. I can't be the only one. Then again… footballers probably don't get nervous. He's probably been on dozens of dates. This is probably routine for him.

Sighing to yourself, you realize belatedly that Jen has taken it upon herself to hang up on her own. "Love you too," you mumble to your phone, stuffing it in your bag and slowly making your way towards your front door. You tap through your apps and order an Uber to the address Martin gave you, fiddling with your keys while you wait for its arrival.

The ride is quiet, the young woman driving not bothering to try and make conversation due to your obviously negative mood. Being nervous isn't something you're particularly used to; normally you're quite confident and outgoing, which is why you're such an excellent teacher. Kids don't do well with shy adults.

When it comes to Martin however, he turns you on your head. Everything about him makes you feel backwards, out of your comfort zone, though not in a bad way. If given the time, you feel like you might grow with him. Like he might bring out a side of you that you don't realize exists.

Twenty minutes into your mysterious drive, the driver pulls over along the river and parks. "You sure this is the place?" The blonde looks as skeptical as you are as she meets your eyes in the mirror. You double check the street sign outside your window and match it to the one in Martin's text before you nod.

You don't see much other than a few traditional brick houses lining the quiet lane, each with matching floating flower beds hanging from the window sills. The wrought iron street lights cast a yellow glow over the uneven pavement. A few people mill about, either coming from work or out on their evening run before cosying up inside for the night.

"This is it, thank you." You give the woman a genuine smile as you place your sweaty palm on the door handle.

"Do you know this person you're meeting? I can hang around a minute and make sure everything is as it should be."

Your heart swells thanks to this stranger. Women looking after women, recognizing something suspicious and not being afraid to speak up about it. The smile that graces your lips now is brimming with confidence, as is the nod you offer her.

"I know him very well, he's a friend that's just finally offered to take me on a date, so I'm a bit nervous is all."

"You look wonderful," the woman offers. "He's a lucky man, that's for sure. I'll be crossing my fingers that it goes well for you then, but be confident! It'll be fine!"

"I appreciate that, I guess I better go find my date before he thinks I've stood him up."

You don't see Martin as you cross the street, which only makes you more concerned that maybe he's gotten cold feet. But you push on, following the low voices catching your attention and surveying the water in the canal on your right- which is when you finally see him.

The boat Martin stands on is slender, barely six feet wide. The Maiden is painted in flowing black script on the rear deck. Years of feet have worn down the white paint surrounding it, leaving bare wood in their wake though the name itself remains in perfect condition, like the vessel's superstitious captain avoided stepping on it at all costs.

The man Martin speaks with is dressed handsomely in a full black suit and silk tie. Martin, unaware of your approach, continues talking quietly and you get the sense that the two know each other well. Martin's companion flicks his eyes up when you shift your weight, finally drawing Martin's attention to you.

As Martin turns, his smile is the first thing you notice. He's already grinning, lips tilted in that devilishly handsome way that has you feeling like you're free falling, wind whizzing through your hair, and Martin is the only one that can save you from certain disaster. You're so caught up in him that you don't realize how dressed up he's gotten for the occasion until he calls your name, his voice breaking your stare so you can sweep your eyes over him.

It is clear Martin has placed as much weight on tonight's events as you have. He's dressed as if he were attending a red carpet, minus the suit coat, which is a plus because you prefer the rolled up sleeves of his white button down. Martin's strong shoulders fill out the shirt perfectly. You swear the row of buttons down his chest are set to burst open at the slightest movement, not that you'd mind that happening. His black wingtip shoes shine, either brand new or just simply very well kept like the man wearing them.

"Come join me solskin," Martin says, "I swear Antony doesn't bite."

You lean on the chain railing in front of you to peer over the edge of the canal, not noticing any steps. The water is higher than normal, which means you should be able to step onto the boat without issue, but you don't trust your clumsy self to do so without tumbling over the side and into the drink. Tonight of all nights, you'd rather not embarrass yourself.

"How am I meant to get down there?" You ask, biting your lip when Martin's musical laugh sings over your skin. His laugh sounds like a snowy winter's day, curled up at the hearth with a hot cup of cocoa and a fuzzy blanket. In your daydream, you suppose there's room for a handsome Norwegian footballer at your side, too.

"I'll help," Martin says, offering his hand as he comes to your side. Without a second thought, you bend your knees one at a time to slip off your heels and hand them over. "That's not exactly what I meant solskin, but-"

"Could I have your coat? I'm sure you've brought one."

Martin blinks, clearly contemplating what you're up to before he nods and disappears into the small cabin. He's in and out quickly, careful not to allow you more than a brief glance inside which reveals very little about what your date may entail. The mystery only serves to have you more excited, like a child waiting patiently to open the pile of gifts under the tree at Christmas.

"Thanks Mar," you murmur, unsurprised when he predicts your intentions and lays his jacket on the bricks at your feet. Polite as always, Martin averts his eyes as you maneuver to sit on the canal, feet dangling over the edge as you take the two foot leap onto the barge. The vessel sways with your sudden weight, forcing you to grip Martin's arms for balance until it rights itself.

"Careful," Martin murmurs, his warm hands finding your hips to steady you. When you look up, you're met by Martin's ridiculously perfect smile and those mischievous blue eyes. Until you met Martin, you never understood why everyone lost their heads over blue eyes. Now the hype is obvious; in the sun, Martin's eyes sparkle and shine like white-capped ocean waves. In the moonlight, they're deeper, like the depths of a lake that you yearn to explore and discover what secrets they hide.

"Thank you for meeting me here," Martin says. "I'm glad you didn't mind me keeping it all a bit of a mystery. It's a good thing I did though, because I almost had to figure something out last minute because my original reservation got canceled- but Antony was kind enough to help me out so I could still bring you here."

Martin's little ramble is adorable. You note how he fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt, like one of your students when they're paired with their crush on an assignment. The childlike innocence in the action only has you falling harder, like you've tripped over your own two feet destined to hit the pavement, only to find Martin is there to catch you.

"I don't mind at all. I'm just happy I didn't have to do any of the planning because that sounds like it was a bit of a pain." Despite the warmth of Martin's hands, you shiver when a chilled breeze sweeps over the water. Martin realizes the temperature change and reaches for his jacket, placing it on your shoulders over your own.

"Hopefully that will warm you up." Martin's tone is rich like warm caramel, brimming with a sweetness that makes your teeth ache nearly as much as your heart.

"It definitely will, thank you."

"Take her inside," Antony stage whispers behind his hand. The brunette winks when you glance over at him, then rolls his eyes as if Martin's mannerisms are nothing new to him. Perhaps they're old friends. It doesn't matter now- as Martin leads you inside, you find yourself smiling at how perfectly his hand fits in yours, like the puzzle piece you thought you'd never find finally snapping into place.

"Watch your step. And your head," Martin adds, his free hand flying up to cover the square edge of the door frame as you stoop down to enter. The gesture is instinctual but sweet, intended to prevent you from hurting yourself.

You aren't sure what you expected, but the candle lit dinner that awaits inside certainly exceeds your wildest dreams. A round, worn wooden table laden with snacks is situated in the middle of a U shaped bench. Latched oak cabinets with peeling white paint line the wall on your left with a niche for a small sink dotted with rust from years of use. A basket with a few wool blankets sit to the right of the door, which leads you to believe that one could sleep in this tiny space if they desired to. The whole thing is like something out of an old sailing catalog and feels somewhat like a time capsule to an age where the world was a freer, more enriching place.

Martin's cologne washes over you when he reaches to flick a switch above your head to dim the lights until only the candles remain. You crane your neck to watch his deft work. Another switch and a dial adjusts the soft, instrumental music to his liking, and when he finally steps back you're dizzy from the soft sandalwood scent of him that lingers in your nose.

"I hope this is alright. I didn't want to take you out to some fancy restaurant and risk being recognized or interrupted."

"This is perfect," you assure him and take a seat on the yellow padded bench. Plates of finger sandwiches and bowls overflowing with fresh cut fruits align with Martin's easygoing personality more than the romantic vibe of your surroundings. You like it better this way however, especially when Martin pulls a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the seat next to him and pours you a short glass.

"I'll fill it when you're low, it's just better to not have a full glass incase we hit a little wave," Martin explains. "And I think this is your favorite, right?"

"Let me see." Martin is already in the process of spinning the bottle to show you the label when you speak. You grin at him, a hand on your chest when you note the vintage handwritten on the sticker. "It is- how did you even know that?"

"I asked Jen," Martin admits. Candlelight dances in his proud eyes, his smile shining brighter than anything in that moment. "She pointed me in the right direction. Like I said, I wanted tonight to be perfect."

"You've done plenty to make this perfect Mar. I'll admit I would've been happy with a home cooked meal or a trip to an arcade but this? Martin, this…" You shake your head, gesturing to the walls and windows to indicate the entire evening. "No one has ever gone through so much effort to make me feel appreciated like this. I know we've only just sat down, but this is already the best date I've ever had by far."

Hearing that seems to set Martin's mind at ease. His strong shoulders lose some of their strained rigidity. His face softens and his smile has butterflies stirring in your gut.

How can Martin bring out your soft side so easily? You're not one to let your guard down quickly. Normally you keep your heart in a cage to shield it from hurt because you aren't sure how many more cracks it can handle. Something about Martin has you throwing your self-inflicted rules out the window. You aren't terrified of being used because somehow you know his intentions are genuine.

"Atla was very upset when she found out that I was seeing you tonight and she wasn't allowed to come with me." Martin spoons some fruit onto his plate and spears a piece of pineapple with his fork. "She said I betrayed her trust, which seems like an awfully big phrase for a little girl to be using."

"Ah, then she's learning. Good to know that she's been paying attention to our books."

Martin quirks a brow, "Oh? I guess that's a positive. What exactly are you reading her? I hope it's appropriate," Martin teases.

"Oh, I'm reading her Shakespeare," you say nonchalantly, ignoring the surprised look Martin throws your way as you throw his teasing energy right back at him. "She loves it! It makes sense that she's picking up some bigger, sophisticated words with how quickly we're flying through Romeo and Juliette. You should see her when we're reading a tense scene, she likes to act out the fights and the drama."

"Really?" Martin, for as intelligent as he is, can be a bit too trusting at times. You struggle to keep a straight face, covering up the beginnings of a smile by sipping from your glass.

"Mhm, she picked it out all on her own. We started with Macbeth, and next we're probably going to move on to A Tale of Two Cities or something. She likes the old settings, you know?"

Martin hums, lips pursed as he tries to imagine Atla reading literature that most high schoolers would struggle through. "Wow, I didn't think Attie would be interested in anything like that, not when she's so young at least. I wouldn't have dreamed-"

You cut Martin off with a laugh that bubbles out of you in the most unflattering, unattractive way. It continues past the hand you have clamped over your mouth, catching Martin off guard until he laughs along with you. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't unafraid of being yourself with Martin. He embraces your quirks, especially the bits that make you, you.

"Mar I'm kidding," you wheeze when you're able to catch your breath. "I wouldn't read that to a student! Gosh, she's far too young for something like that!"

"Good because I was gonna start questioning your teaching ability! I was thinking whether or not I'd need to report you… I'm glad I don't have to make that decision!" Martin laughs, running a hand through his blonde hair. The few strands that stick straight up only add to his natural charm, somehow making him more attractive. You find yourself wondering if his locks are as soft as they look. If you ran your own hand through them, would they fall flat again or would they leave the same endearing spikes behind?

When the laughter fades, a comfortable silence falls as you both snack on the array of snacks provided. Silences normally feel stagnant and bloated with words left unsaid, which is why you avoid them as often as possible. But it isn't that way with Martin. The quiet is comfortable and for once you don't feel the need to fill it with a random story from your childhood or an out of pocket fact about architecture. With Martin, you embrace the lack of speech and instead focus on the soft music playing from a hidden speaker.

At one point you peel back the curtain to peek outside and are greeted with a stunning view of the Tower Bridge. The lights of the city create rippling constellations on the Thames. When you've had your fill of drinking in the city, Martin asks about your hometown, your family, your friends, anything and everything to keep you chatting. You ask him questions of your own when he leaves you space to interject, but overall he seems more interested in getting to know the real you than letting you past his walls.

That's fine, you can work with that. This is only one singular date, the first of many if you're hopeful. Seeing as you've not embarrassed yourself yet, there's every reason to believe Martin will ask you on a second, and at that time you can turn the tables on him and learn what makes him tick.

Martin checks his watch and smiles to himself. "If you peek outside again, you should see the parliament building, I always forget the name. But I know you said one day that you wanted to see it from the water, so I thought why not do that tonight?"

"No way!" Throwing all manners out the window, you grip the windowsill with your fingertips and haul yourself around to confirm what he's said. "How did you remember that? I mentioned it ages ago!"

"I remember most of what you say, all of the important things at least."

Luck is a fickle thing. Is it finding a four leaf clover in a field of threes, or is it finding a penny on heads? Luck can be waking up on time when an alarm isn't set, or it can be this: landing a date with the man of your dreams, who goes out of his way to ensure you're aware that he values you as much as you value him.

*********

An hour later, Martin's rented boat has docked where your journey began. Martin helps you climb to street level, where the two of you now walk aimlessly at a leisurely pace.

Martin's expectations for tonight hadn't been high. He's surprised by how easy it is to talk to you. You take turns asking baseless, silly questions, like how impossible it is that some people find pineapple to be a suitable pizza topping. Neither of you are willing to let the night end, but when you begin to shiver, Martin knows he cannot be selfish any longer.

"Can I drive you home?" Martin asks finally. "You're on my way anyway, so you can't say it would be an inconvenience to me. And by the way, I would still offer if you lived across the city."

"Yes, I think you can. I'd appreciate that, Mar, thank you."

Martin's eyes are stuck on your smile. It consumed his thoughts for days, made his own lips tingle with the need to feel them pressed to yours, to discover whether you taste as sweet as you smell. Martin wonders, not for the first time, if you think of him at night the way he does of you. He needs to know, sooner rather than later. All it would take is him leaning forward a few inches and he would know.

But Martin can't shake the intuition that moving too fast with you might be a mistake. And it's not just the fact that he hasn't kissed anyone in three years. It's that he doesn't want you to write him off as just another man who wants nothing more than to take you home and undress you. Martin wants more than that. He wants to know what lies beneath the surface. He has too many unanswered questions to let you slip away from him because he can't think of anything but how you might feel pressed against him.

Plus, he has a daughter at home. Martin can't just bring you over whenever he pleases, and he knows that as soon as he gets a taste of you, he'll be addicted. Once won't be enough; he'll need you every second of every day.

"That Audi is yours, isn't it? It's very nice. I love the color."

"It's just gray," Martin notes, thankful that you don't call him out for staring. "Nothing special. It's not even a premium color, it's just one off the showroom floor."

You shrug those elegant, slender shoulders. "Still, I think it's pretty. I don't know much about cars, but- oh!" You hold your hands over your head as the skies suddenly open up, the beginnings of a downpour rumbling in the clouds. Martin immediately slings his jacket off and holds it over you, shielding you from the rain as you both walk towards the car as quickly as your heels allow.

Rain. Martin hates rain. It's slippery and dangerous and nothing good ever comes of it. Your foot slips as you step off the curb and Martin lurches for you, catching you in time to keep you upright.

"Please be careful," Martin says, more than a hint of panic in his voice. That familiar, unwelcome fear begins crawling its way up his throat. He hates this, he hates all of it. He should have insisted on getting you home earlier, when he could've been positive you'd be safe. Now it had to go and bloody rain, ruining a perfect night.

"I'm okay Martin, really! I'm alright." You smile when he opens the passenger door for you. He takes your hand not to be polite but because his soul demands he ensures you're alright. When did his chest get so tight? Why are his fingers tingling? God, Martin can’t form a single coherent thought.

Martin closes your door and stands in the rain for a few seconds, letting it pelt his skin. It's frigid. His shirt is stuck to his skin, probably semi transparent by now. He doesn't care. He lets the chill ground him until you knock on the inside of his window and break him out of his head. Martin hurries around to the driver's seat and starts the engine, messing with the climate controls and the lights until he's got them perfect. His mind is running faster than an Olympic sprinter and he can't hold onto a single thought longer than a second, except for one.

Keep my solskin safe.

Martin knows he holds no ownership over you. Certainly not after one date, and probably not ever. Not if he continues to act like a skittish cat who can't keep his head together.

"Mar, are you alright?"

The soft melody of your voice breaks through his internal panic. Your fingers graze the back of his hand, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. For once, Martin is thankful he's had the foresight to drown himself in cologne or else he’d probably stink to the heavens.

"I'm fine," comes Martin's strained reply. He's not fine. He's anything but fine, actually. He'd rather knee slide on asphalt than drive in this sort of weather. And now he's meant to get you home safely? Martin isn't sure he trusts himself to do so.

"Do you not like driving in the rain?” There you go again, reading him like an open book. Just this once, Martin wishes he could be an enigma, that you couldn’t see into the depths of his mind with a single glance. “We could call an Uber, it would be fine-"

"No," Martin snaps. Regret washes over him in an instant when you blink, taken aback. You hide it well, but Martin still notices because it's you and he notices everything when it comes to you. He hates himself for it but he can’t help it, you distract him any time you’re close enough for him to smell your floral shampoo.

"Okay, then we can sit here until it lets up a bit." You try to pry Martin's fingers off the wheel with a gentleness he does not deserve. He’s upset you and yet your instinct is still to try comforting him.

"No," Martin repeats, softer this time. "I can do it." Martin pulls away from the curb using no more than a toe on the accelerator, his left foot hovering over the brake just in case. His eyes dart across the road and between all of his mirrors, on high alert for anything or anyone out of place. He doesn't realize you've turned the radio off until you clear your throat and it startles him.

Martin is wound tighter than a two dollar watch, near his breaking point. His fingers ache thanks to his death grip on the wheel, his eyes fatigued from working overtime. Though he takes great, gasping gulps of air, his lungs feel starved of oxygen. He swears he smells perfume, which wouldn't be concerning, except for the fact that it isn't your perfume he smells, but that of someone else who used to occupy his passenger seat.

"Mar? Just turn here, it's a touch longer but there's less traffic."

Martin operates on autopilot to follow your directions, joints protesting due to the tension held in his muscles as he turns the wheel. Martin swears under his breath when the car behind gets a touch too close for comfort. He's well aware that to the average person it was an acceptable distance, but in all honesty, Martin would rather be the one and only vehicle on the road at this moment in time.

Martin counts his lucky stars when your house comes into view. Nothing tragic has happened on this trip, and he can finally relax knowing you're home safe. Getting himself back in one piece, on the other hand…

"I have a guest room." Martin swears you can read his thoughts. "You could spend the night, I think there's some sweatpants in one of my drawers that my brother left behind at some point… you don't have to drive home in this awful weather, Mar."

There is little Martin detests more than pity. Of all the emotions that compose the human experience, pity is one of the few Martin wishes to eradicate. Since Maria died, Martin has received an endless stream of 'poor Martin, being a single parent is a struggle, you must be struggling all on your own' or sentiments along those lines. He hates knowing other people think that he becomes small when faced with a challenge. It's just rain- Martin won't let a spout of nasty weather defeat him.

"I'll be fine," Martin says, mindful of his tone. Over the years he's found it easier to mask his true feelings by ensuring his voice remains level and even. On the pitch, letting your opponent know you're afraid can be the first domino that falls in defeat. In life, it's much the same. Martin refuses to let you see the side of him that he has fought so hard to protect.

"If you say so." You fiddle with the straps on your bag, searching outside the car for a distraction. Martin forcibly drags himself into the present, pushes any thoughts of the past from his mind.

"I'll walk you to your door. Wait there?" When you nod, Martin grabs his jacket and comes around the passenger side, doing his best to shield you from the lingering storm that insists on ruining the perfect night. You climb the handful of steps slowly, like someone reluctant to come home because they know they're in for a scolding. Except in this case it should be Martin that is reluctant, because he doesn't want to leave you with a sour impression.

You crowd closer to Martin under the safety of the awning. This close, he can see the tiny hairs plastered to your forehead but he doesn't care, he still thinks you're as gorgeous now as you were when you peered at him over the canal railing. He'll take you dressed up, dressed down, or looking like you went for a dip in the ocean; he doesn't care, as long as he's with you and you're safe.

"Be careful on your drive home, will you? Don't go crashing and ruining that pretty face of yours."

Why does the universe insist on constantly reminding Martin what he's lost?

"I'll let you know when I've made it home," is Martin's tense reply. It's not your fault that your joke hit his fears squarely on the head. He hates that he can't forget and move on.

"Well… goodnight Mar."

In romance novels, this is the part where the love interest initiates a passionate kiss. The main character will act surprised but really she saw it coming; she's planned for it after all. If Martin were living in one of those novels, he'd brush the hair off your cheek and cup your jaw, tilting you towards him for the mind-blowing, earth-shattering kiss that he's dreamed of for weeks.

But Martin is a rational man, as most Scandinavians are. He is not in the headspace to facilitate such romantic gestures, nor does he want his first kiss with you to be overshadowed with thoughts of Maria.

God, Maria. Martin misses her. For half a second, Martin swears the light tints your eyes the same shade of vibrant blue that he called home for so long, there and gone in a flash. Guilt hits him like a freight train, knocking him right back to square one.

"Goodnight, solskin."

You catch Martin's wrist when he turns to leave. Before he can open his mouth to ask why, you rise up on your tiptoes and press your plush, soft lips to his cheek. Immediately, Martin's soul rights itself. His vision clears, his mind quirks, and he finds his center. You replace the fear in his bones with a calm that he only ever experiences with a ball at his feet or with Atla in his arms.

Perhaps home, too, is a fickle thing. Sometimes it's rings on fingers accompanied by promises of forever. A family can feel like home too, with children running and laughing, creating messes and memories. Other times it's rain-soaked cheek kisses that speak greater volumes than a thousand words. Home can be as simple as this: feeling one's semblance of self return, thanks to no more than a smile on the lips of a woman one admires.

#oof this is a long one #martin odegaard #martin Ødegaard #martin odegaard fic #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fantasy #arsenal fc #jac writes #alt timeline lover

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eoieopda · 1 year

Note

JADE! Congrats on 1K!!! As a treat, can we have NFWMB (Hozier) smut with Jimin and either brat or dom!reader? PM sent for age verification <3

me, rubbing my hands together like a mischievous lil raccoon upon receiving this. you get me, anon. tbh i’m not going to track the word count, so this may very well be way longer than a drabble should be 😂 this is going to be in jimin’s pov due to the nature of the lyrics. also it’s in present tense, which i literally never do!

listen here.

cw: SMUT (18+ - minors dni or you’re grounded!) body worshipping, unprotected sex, domme!reader, sub!jimin, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, mild degradation, cockwarming, masturbation (f,) jimin is p obsessed with you so you can decide for yourself whether it’s a toxic relationship dynamic or he’s just v deep in sub space & completely in love.

if i was born as a blackthorn tree / i’d wanna be held by you / felled by you / fuel the pyre of your enemies

When Jimin walks into the bedroom, you’re sitting at the small, velvet stool in front of your vanity. One elbow rests daintily on the ivory top. The fingers of that adjoining hand hold dark waves back at your ear. You don’t look up, or otherwise acknowledge his presence, but he can’t blame you.

He wouldn’t take his eyes of you, either.

The diamond earrings he bought for you swing ever-so-slightly with your subtle movements. Catching the light emanating from the mirror’s frame, they send a flurry of sparkling, soft white across the expanse of your neck. It twinkles up to the curve of your jaw, now even sharper with your chin angled just so towards your reflection.

Your eyes eventually flicker over to study him through the glass. He doesn’t need to see it to know it; he feels your gaze burning white hot on his skin. No, he was too preoccupied with your other hand - the one holding that tube of Russian Red, swiping it slowly and expertly over your plush lips.

Do you know? Do you have any idea of the power you hold? Not just over him, but anywhere - any time. One look from you could very well split the Earth into pieces; level the entire city. And if you ever did, he’d lay his body down over the cracks like a bridge to give you safe passage through the rubble.

There’s a small twitch at the corner of your perfect mouth that tells him yes, you absolutely know what effect you have on him. Any doubts he may have had drop dead at his feet when you your eyes trail downward from his face to the erection making itself known behind the grey fabric of his slacks.

“Is it really that easy?” Your laugh is pure ice, but it scorches all the same. He swallows hard - he has no response - and then you coo at him, “Poor baby. It must hurt to want me this badly, huh?”

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

It aches.

But nothing he could think of to say would matter much at all. All he wanted was whatever you did, even if that meant he wouldn’t spend a second inside of you.

He’d light himself on fire to keep you warm.

When you unexpectedly stand from your seat, your hair spills over your bare shoulder. The thin strap of your dress - the one you’ll ask him to tighten, he’s sure, when you’re done with him - follows suit off the edge.

You turn to face him and you may as well have turned him to stone. Waiting so patiently for direction, he’ll go wherever you want him to. Your side, outside, straight to hell.

“Then lay down, pretty baby,” you gesture to the nearby bed with a manicured finger. Your nails are sharp, matching the glint in your eye. “Rest that empty head on the pillows.”

He’s too eager.

Has he ever moved so quickly?

When your directive has been carried out to the letter, he blinks up at you. Not expectant, but confused.

Why are you still so far away?

“Aren’t you coming, love?” He asks shyly, truly afraid that you’ll say no. It sounds more like a whine than a question, but for you, he’s never been too proud to beg.

You’re sauntering over to him when you reply and the wickedness of your smirk stings, “I intend to.” Carefully, you hike up the hem of your dress and climb atop the mattress. You settle with one leg on either side of his slightly bent knee. “Jury’s still out on you, though.”

His entire body shudders when your palms press against his abdominal muscles, smoothing up the fabric of his white button-up only to slide back down again. As you paralyze him with your touch, you swirl your hips against his thigh.

Fuck.

You lean in and whisper with red lips hovering close to his ear, “There’s nothing between my cunt and your trousers.” You exhale intoxicating heat against his skin as you grind against him a second time. “I’m wet enough to ruin them, baby. Can you feel it?”

His whole body jolts when you do it again, this time with your teeth nicking his lobe. Your pointed acrylic nails rake down his neck as his head lulls back.

Fuck.

“I said -“ you press yourself down more forcefully onto his thigh. His muscle tenses involuntarily underneath you; the dampened fabric chills his impossibly warm skin. You continue pleasuring yourself as you repeat between heavy breaths, “Can you feel it?”

The stain your arousal is leaving on his thigh matches the spot of pre-cum seeping through the crotch of his slacks. A helpless whimper flees from his mouth as you fuck yourself faster against his taut quadricep. Your knee just barely brushes against his cock, but it’s touch enough to make him stammer, “Y-yes.”

Without thinking, he releases the duvet he’s clinging to and brings his hands to rest on your bare legs. At this, you raise your own hand and grip his flushed cheeks, pushing his lips into a pathetic pout and guiding him to sit upright. “Oh, my beautiful, brainless boy - do you want to touch me?”

Breathless and at a loss for words, all he can give is a frantic nod. To touch you is all he ever wants; to worship like a dog at your altar; to give you his best and all the rest of him, too. You could have his still-beating heart if you gave him a moment to pry it from his chest. You had his soul wrapped around your finger already.

“You want to taste me,” you moan with your whole, heaving chest as your feverish pace slows. It isn’t a question because you already know the answer. You then stop your movements entirely and the sudden stillness is jarring - until your hands push hard against his chest. As his head hits the pillows, you smirk at his startled gasp, “Then don’t waste a drop.”

You grip the bottom of your dress with one hand and shimmy it up to be held at your waist. Simultaneously, you use your other hand to steady yourself.

You ascend over him easily until your knees rest at either side of his head. Even without your core pressed at his mouth - or your thighs squeezing tight against his head - he struggles to catch his breath.

He wasn’t asked for his thoughts, but they spill out anyway. He couldn’t keep them to himself, not when the glistening slick above him made his mouth water. It was a whisper - no, a prayer: “You’re perfect, every part of you. Please, baby, let me taste you.”

When you graciously oblige and begin to lower yourself onto him, he sucks in a breath. He doesn’t care if he suffocates, but he refuses to disappoint you.

His tongue finds your clit easily, and he greets it with little kitten licks while his hands slide up your naked thighs to grip your hips. Gently, he pulls you even closer; any distance - even microscopic - is too much to bear.

He feels you shiver, hears your faint mewl when his lips encircle that swollen bud of nerves. You gasp at the pressure of his suckling mouth; and you grind against the tip of his tongue as it flicks slowly over his target.

Thighs clenching against his head, you jolt when he releases your clit with an obscene, wet pop. And when the flat of his insatiable tongue laps up your arousal, you hiss through gritted teeth, “I knew there had to be a purpose for that fucking mouth. Not completely useless, huh? Are you my little fuck toy, baby?”

His eager reply darts from between his lips, through yours, and penetrates your hole. You gasp at the intrusion and sink further down onto him whether or not you mean to. He doesn’t mind; you could crush him and his last breath would be spent thanking you for it.

Every time the tip of his tongue enters you, it flips a switch. If he keeps going, he knows, your climax will rip through you like a power surge. Crackling, electrifying, and paralyzing.

Your shuddered moans increase in frequency while the pace of your writhing intensifies. He wants you to unravel into his open mouth. His dutiful ministrations, interrupted only by brief gasps for air, tell you as much.

The cry that rings out when you orgasm hits him like a thunder clap. It rumbles through his bones and unsettles every already-dizzy part of him further. He doesn’t let up until you decide that you can’t take his continued assault anymore.

Pulling yourself off him, you press up on your knees only to sit back against his chest. His gaze can’t decide between your sodden cunt as it drips onto his shirt, or your flushed face. In the end, it’s the painted lips that win.

If he had to kill a man just to kiss you, someone wiser would have to talk him out of doing so.

You reach backwards once you catch your breath and then you catch his swollen dick in your hand. You squeeze suddenly, firmly - but not cruelly - and he bucks against your touch.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Do you deserve a reward?” Your tone is innocent but the tilt of your head and your patronizing doe eyes paint a different picture. He doesn’t know how to traverse this minefield without losing a limb, so he says nothing.

You squeeze him tighter and he can’t keep from groaning, thrusting his head back against the pillow, screwing his eyes shut.

You perfect, torturous thing. How did you end up in this bed with him, so far from heaven? Did you fall like Lucifer, you beautiful devil?

His eyes fly open when your presence on his chest disappears. When they re-focus, you’re shifting backwards down the length of his torso, stopping to loom over his pelvis. His cock twitches, so acutely aware of its proximity to you.

You say nothing as you undo his belt. You stay silent when you slide it through the loops of his slacks and cast it aside. When you address his button and zipper, all he hears is his pulse hammering in his ears.

The warmth of your fingertips only graces him briefly - in the moment before you sink down onto his length without hesitation. He moans loudly when you bottom out in an instant, velvet walls gripping tight.

The only move you make is to slip your hand between your spread legs. Your middle finger swirls over your clit, but you’re otherwise still with his cock buried deep in your wet heat.

He’s throbbing inside you despite it all; he aches so badly for friction you won’t share. It’s just you, the pad of your fingertip, and the gaze you have handcuffed to his.

Your eyes struggle to remain open as your nimble finger inches you closer to your next orgasm. All he can do is watch as your lids flutter shut. Withstand the way your cunt squeezes him tighter and tighter.

Feeling you come around him would’ve been enough for him to follow you off that ledge, but mere moments before he could catch up, you quickly slide off of him.

Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts to love you enough to let you slip away like this.

His parted mouth fails to keep his whimpering breaths a secret. Your hand - still wet with your own juices - returns to his face. There you capture his jaw in the space between your thumb and index finger.

When you lean in with puckered lips, he thinks you might finally kiss him. Please, for the love of god, just kiss him. And you do, but not where he craves it.

You slink away, leaving devastation on his face and a bright red stain on his crisp, white collar. With satisfaction twinkling in your eyes, you hum, “There. Ain’t you my baby?”

He is, he is, he is, he is.

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tj-dragonblade · 9 days

Note

NEMO NEMO NEMO PLEASE

also academic conference AU if you're feeling generous xD

Ahh, Nemo. Previous snippets tagged for convenience! Still don't know where this will end up but I am literally just sifting through the lyrics and drafting whatever comes to mind for this line or that with the barest bones of a set scene behind it. I am sure you can clock the lyric in this one, lol.

Here, he thinks, bitter and contrary, here is something he wants: rain. The reflection of his moods in the weather of the Dreaming had been a boon of validation; the intensity of his feelings was often imprudent to act upon, as he had tragically learned time and again, and letting them scatter and reflect into the vastness of his realm allowed him the management of himself to the benefit of all involved. And now even that small kindness is beyond him. Hob's small balcony is bathed in sunshine, bright and warm, birdsong weaving brightly through the trees; it is idyllic, a perfect late spring day, and he. Resents it. He wishes, desperately, to stand on his own balcony (not his) off his chambers (not any longer) soaking in the pouring rain, letting the worst of his overfull feelings wash away that he might. Find new clarity, in his thoughts. But the weather remains belligerently cheerful, unmoved by the strength of his distress; he whirls from the railing and sweeps back inside. Even his dressing gown (Hob's dressing gown) is a pale substitute for the flowing robes he had favored, lacking the presence and drama that he had preferred. Nothing is as it was, Before. But this is as he had decided it should be. He must find. Other ways, to cope. He considers crawling back into bed (depression nap, old pieces of collective memory supply), but Hob's note had said he would be home by eleven. Which is…soon, he decides, after studying the clock. And Hob would be… No. Hob would not be disappointed to find him back in bed, nor angry, but. Hob would worry, for his emotional well-being, and he has given Hob enough cause for concern already. He appreciates that Hob cares. But he does not wish to burden him more than necessary.

The Academic Conference AU is a long-term beast that started life more than a year ago as a quick smut fill for the prompt 'bed sharing' and turned into an anticipated four chapters of hooking up and relationship development. Assuming I can see it all the way through. I've got pieces of this scattered all over; here is the tag for that and here is a pre-spicy snippet from the second chapter:

He texts Dream, because he's gotta do something with himself in the interim. They exchanged numbers on day one and it's occurred to Hob that Dream might waste precious moments waiting for him outside the panel Hob's supposed to be attending once his own lets out, unaware that Hob skived off. Hey ;) Meet me back at the room, soon as you're able I'll be waiting for you He debates a moment, unsure if sending a pic is too much, whether or not it would be appreciated, especially while Dream's stuck in a presentation. But he's sitting in his hotel room [buck naked]* and waiting to get fucked; if this is not the appropriate time for a spicy pic, he doesn't know what is. He's tasteful about it; he snaps a downward-angled shot of his chest, hair damp from the shower, neither his face nor his dick in frame. Discreet. Just in case. He hits 'Send'.

WIP Title Ask Game

*I am reminded I need to find out if 'buck naked' is a particularly American term and seek a British replacement of comparable tone, if so

#askmemes #TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: Nemo #wip: academic AU

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minteaspoon · 1 year

Text

“I am anything but”

a/n: a little moment between viserys ii and luke reminiscent of a moment between the black queen and her second son:)

****THIS IS SET IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS THE “LUKE AS DAENERYS BUT HOTD AU” BUT BEFORE ANY OF THE STARKS, ARRYNS OR VELARYONS ARRIVE

(pls comment any suggestions you guys have for what to name this au, my creative juices suck when it comes to naming😭)

••••••••••

Luke caresses his baby-bump as he walks alone in the corridors of his castle.

It was getting dark, and he and his family had decided to all halt their duties to join together as one during dinner. And all but one arrived on time, so Luke offered to go and find the missing one.

As he enters the war room, he sees it. White locks framing a face out of his view, dressed in blue, black and red.

“Viserys, I was wondering where you were. It is time for us to dine together with the rest of our family, we all agreed after all,” Luke gently whispers, though loud enough for the teenager to hear.

The adolescent turns to the brunette, one hand on the table in front of him, the table that resembles the Painted Table back in Dragonstone - their old home.

“Brother, I apologize. I must’ve been lost in my thoughts and didn’t take into account of the time passing by so quickly,” Viserys mutters, as Luke closes the distance between them.

He pushes his hand out towards the younger’s cheek, he knows better than to believe an excuse such as that. He’s used it much in his life after all.

“Vis, tell me what ails you, truly, and I shall do my best to guide you.”

Viserys turns his gaze away from his brother’s knowing eyes, and goes still and quiet.

Luke sighs, and gently grasps the silverette’s face to turn towards him, seeking his eyes to make contact with his own dark ones. When he gets what he wants, Luke opens his mouth, before Viserys beats him to it;

“I’m not like everyone else,” he whispers, as Luke’s thumb sways on his cheek, back and forth. “What do you mean?”

Viserys balls his hands, which Luke notes to be trembling. Again, the younger reaffirms, “I’m not like the rest of our family.”

“I’m not like Dalton, fierce and fearless.”

“I’m not like Egg, smart and your heir.”

“I’m not even like your twins, my nephew and niece, who are our people’s joy and pride.”

Luke frowns, as Viserys lifts his eyes to gaze upon the dark abyss of his older brother’s. He always found comfort in losing himself there.

“I’m not like you,” he mutters.

“I am not… perfect, like you,” he finally rasps out, eyes again finding its way far from Luke’s own.

The elder goes still. He’s seen a scenario like this before. He’s been in Vis’ shoes before.

“…My sweet boy,” Luke starts in a soft tone. “You are right, you are nothing like us.” As Luke says the final word, he sees and feels Viserys flinch, and hears his breath hitch.

“Yes, you are nothing like us, you are not fierce nor fearless like my husband, not smart or stubborn like Egg, nor are you our people’s cherished like Rhaelys and Rhaemon, but you are something else.”

Luke goes to bring his boy’s eyes back to his.

“You are clever, mischievous, and always full of joyful quips and tricks.”

“A jokester and prankster you are, my dear - you make the whole of our Isles laugh and smile.”

“You are our people’s smiles and laughter, my sweet boy. It’s hope for a better tomorrow.”

Luke smiles, his frown had long since disappeared as Viserys’ eyes gleam.

“And remember, whenever you think low of yourself, whenever you think I am nothing but perfect… I am anything but,” he finishes.

Viserys continues his silence, before he brings his palms to lay against his brother’s. The two stay where they are, uncaring of anything else but this moment.

“…Come, I feel our family has gotten restless in their waiting for us to start dinner. Let us go to them before they finish all the lemon cakes, my sweet boy,” Luke jokes, smiling brightening as he sees his brother’s face contort to a playful grin.

“Race you there?”

“In the condition I am in? As if!”

The brothers laughter echo on the war room, as they walk hand-in-hand to their awaiting family.

#lucemond #dalcerys #omega lucerys #dalton greyjoy x lucerys velaryon #justice for lucerys #viserys ii targaryen #dalton greyjoy #aegon iii targaryen #omegaverse #rhaenyra targaryen #I’m not perfect like you #I’m anything but #lucerys velaryon

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nyuoqi · 5 months

Text

— EXES ALERT ౨ৎ KTR

015 𖤐 dinner at cheonanz

✸ SYNOPSIS ! : in which you and taerae went all the way back to the last year of middle school where the two of you were painfully in love with each other yet refused to put on any label because you guys thought this was more fun, and it went on all the way to the second year of high school. well that was until you ghosted him

or in which your situationship from four years ago happens to be your partner for a romance drama

1.2k wc (not proofread)

when hanbin told you guys that he would be the one arranging this hangout and make reservations, you didn't expect for the reservation to be at his house.

you had expected for him to call you guys to come to the small stall 10 minutes away from the filming set, or the one near his company or even the one near your old school. instead you found yourself standing in front of the door to his house for 7 minutes, completing wether you should wait for junhyeon first or enter on your own.

suddenly you thought of taerae.

has he arrived yet? what if he's currently heading towards hanbin's house then see me standing awkwardly in front of his house door?

you let out a sigh, why am i so worried about him? we literally went out for dinner two months ago and it went well. heck, we even met earlier today. you thought to yourself.

if anyone were to see you right now, they would have thought that you were a freak. dressed in black from head to toe with a mask covering your lower face while staring at someone's house door.

"what are you doing? " junhyeon's voice spoke from behind. unlike you, junhyeon had dressed himself in a much colourful and comfortable clothing, no mask in sight. "you do realise that if anyone saw you just now, they would have totally called the cops on you. you look like you're about to break in someone's house. " he chuckled to himself. you threw him a glare and continued to stare at hanbin's door.

junhyeon shrugged and pressed on the doorbell you had been completing on pressing for the past 10 minutes. within seconds, the door opened and hanbin came in sight. "oh you guys have arrived. come in, taerae is still setting the table. " he said and gestured the both of you to step into his house.

you took of your shoes and stepped inside. you observed the living room. it has a beige couch big enough for two people to sit, a few plants to bring in some colours and a lamp beside the couch. very cozy, you thought.

you took a few looks around again and saw photo frames hanged on the walls. curious, you approached them and saw various pictures. there were pictures of hanbin as a kid, a picture of him with his family, a picture of him with taerae taken during high school and a picture of taerae with his family— wait, a picure of taerae with his family?!

turning your head towards it again, you pondered why hanbin would have a picture of taerae with his family framed and hanged in his living room unless—

"what are you doing there? come eat with us, taerae had finished setting the table. " hanbin called from behind you. turning around, you saw taerae, hanbin and junhyeon at the dining table waiting for you to join them. you took a glance at taerae and noticed how casual his clothing is, too cozy and thin for him to be wearing in such cold weather if he were to go to hanbin's house.

a new realisation dawned upon you, taerae and hanbin are roommates.

you had always known that taerae and hanbin shared a very deep bond. from the day hanbin transferred to your school, he and taerae were basically inseparable. the first time taerae ever cancelled lunch with you and junhyeon was because hanbin had asked taerae to eat with him.

taerae invited hanbin to eat with you guys and ever since then, the four of you spend your break time together. if taerae is not with you or junhyeon, he would be with hanbin and vice versa. despite you and junhyeon always being in a close proximity with hanbin, you guys miraculously never get close to each other.

during middle school and high school, taerae always say that you and him would move in together when you guys are older. after your ghosting incident, you were sure that taerae would move in with hanbin instead. so it wasn't really a surprise to you that they live together, you just didn't expect for it to be so soon.

"yn? " hanbin called for you again. you blinked, snapping out of your daze and only then you noticed taerae staring back at you. you averted your eyes from his to hanbin's and nod, "coming. " you replied as you walked towards them.

dinner went by quietly as everyone enjoyed the foods prepared by hanbin and his mum as mentioned by hanbin himself. even junhyeon, who was the most excited about your reunion ended up not saying anything as he devoured whatever that was left on the table. "hanbin bro i'm telling you, you and your mother should open your own restaurants asap. "

"my mum literally owns a cafe— " hanbin's speech was quickly interrupted by junhyeon "okay but does her cafe serves some bomb potato jjageuli? i don't think so. " hanbin sighed and told junhyeon how his mother doesn't want to open a restaurant and started to argue with junhyeon.

you and taerae just watched as your friends argued with each other. you guys sat across of each other and you could basically feel taerae's burning gaze towards you. you were convinced that if he stare any much longer there would be a hole in your forehead with how intense his stare was.

you chuckled lightly as you glanced at him, "i know i'm pretty but you don't have to stare so hard at me. " taerae blinked, taken aback at your sudden words. you saw him shuffled in his seat as deep red blossomed from the bottom of his next to the tip of his ears. "i wasn't staring at you. " he barked back at you.

your little smile turned into a full grin as you realised how flustered he got. "are you blushing taerae? you know what, this shade of blush suits you a lot. maybe you should ask your makeup artist for this shade instead. " you laughed even more as you continued. taerae bit his lips and looked away, flustered.

hanbin and junhyeon stopped arguing when they heard the commotion between you and taerae. the two pairs of curious eyes trailed towards taerae's face as they exhanged looks with each other before breaking into laughter.

"is our taerae blushing for yn-ie? " hanbin teasingly pinched one of taerae's flushed cheek. junhyeon reached across the table, holding the other cheek in his palm as he shaked taerae's head left and right. "awww, look at him all shy now. "

let's just say that dinner ended with a very sulky taerae sitting alone at the corner of his couch when you guys were watching the premiere of your drama.

not something a few cups of soju and beer can't fix, though. because not long after, everyone was all over the place either screaming, playing or passed out as the night does not get any younger.

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