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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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the girl next door 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“Mom, we should get going,” you say as you check your bag.

Your mother sits at the table. It’s cluttered as always. You can see her inhaler amid the mess. Wait, there’s another one. You cross the kitchen, only two steps, and grab both inhalers. You feel the subtle difference between them.

You take both, putting the full one back in the medicine cabinet and the other in the disposal bin. The doctor said the inhalent would help with your mother’s dopamine levels, balances her out a little, but the new treatment only seems to be another symptom of her disease. She hates doing it, she hates all of it, but you can’t blame her for that.

“We can’t be late for the consultation. We’ll be waiting another six months,” you come back to the kitchen.

She looks at you as she wobbles slightly. The tremor is more prominent than before. Each day you notice it more. All the little things changing about her. She’s a bit slower, her words don’t come easy or always clearly, and her mood grows grimmer and grimmer. So does yours.

You grab your purse and the keys. You’ll clean up when you get home. It doesn’t take very long for living to pile up though. Especially when you’re the only one to keep it in order.

Your mother grips the table and stands up. Getting her dressed was a battle already won. Her posture is slightly crooked as she shuffles around the table, “I’m moving.”

You step back, waiting patiently for her to round the table. She grumbles. Your mother was never bright and bubbly but ever since her diagnosis, she’s lost any glimmer of warmth. It’s like she’s living in a fog, just slowly wading through.

You walk down the hall ahead of her and pick out your shoes from the rack. As you kneel to tie your sneakers, she leans on the wall and slides her feet into the orthotic flats. She’s not very old yet. Neither of you expected her to decline so quickly.

You stand and open the door. You back up though the screen door and hold it for her. Her steps get a bit smoother the more she moves around. The permanent scowl sinks into the lines of her face as she comes out onto the porch. You lock the door behind her as she grunts and leans on the railing, stamping down each step to the walkway.

You follow behind her. That’s another problem. The lawn. The old mower broke. You haven’t been able to replace it.

As you trail your mother to the car, she swats you away. Sometimes you try too much for her. You know she must feel helpless. You back up as she sits heavily in the passenger seat and your eyes skim around the neighbourhood. The white sign on the lawn next to yours catches your eye.

You remember the finely dressed woman, her very image on the sign, and how she grimaced at the weeds and grass. If she’s going to sell the property, the neighbours shouldn’t be living in a jungle. You heard her say as much over the phone as she paced back and forth on the porch.

You mother pulls the door shut but it doesn’t click. You give it an extra push to secure it and round the hood. You get in the car and turn the key, rolling down the windows as the early summer morning crowds the tight space. Your mother mutters and wipes her forehead with a shaky hand.

“Let’s just go,” she sneers, “waste of my time...” she bends her arm over the open window, her fingers quivering, “damn doctors said it enough. Nothing they can do. Charlatans.”

“Mom,” you chide gently, “the surgery could help. If you qualify--”

“I heard ya last night,” she snaps. “Just drive.”

You nod and snap your mouth shut. You shift into reverse and back out of the drive. You know better than to talk too much. Your mother never liked hearing anything she didn’t want to hear. Facts are just an attack on her.

You steer down the street slowly, following the curve of the suburban street. The green lawns and white picket fences are palatial at first glance. It’s a 1950s fever dream implanted in the twenty-first century.

Your house is the black stain on an otherwise pristine canvas. The HOA must curse your grandmother for her leaving a perfectly nice home to a pair of beatnicks. You don’t blame them. You’re the puzzle piece that doesn’t fit, leaving a gaping hole in the picture.

The radio crackles on and you wince. Your mother struggles to turn the knob and the volume pendulums up and down. You reach to help her and she smacks your hand, only softly as she has little strength behind it. You retract and grip the wheel, listening to buzzing struggle of her unsteady. You just hope the appointment goes well.

🏠

Your mother hasn’t said much since the appointment. That worries you. What should be good news is just another dark cloud over her.

She sits as she often does; half-reclined in the chair by the window, watching the neighbourhood just outside the pane. She’s just a resentful of the picture-perfect neighbours as she if of everything else. As she is of you.

You tidy the kitchen table as the unsaid dangles in the air. You know better than to bring it up. She barely acknowledged it when the doctor said it. She’s a good candidate for surgery but it isn’t a cure. It will help with the symptoms but not stop them altogether. It’s not good enough for her but it might just be her only hope of relief, even if temporary.

“Bring me a coke,” your mother calls through and you hear the hollow tin clatter of an empty can.

You bring the dirty dishes to the sink and set them beside it. You go to the fridge to grab a red branded can and let the door shut on its own. As you enter the living room, your mother sits forward, the recliner snapping forward with her weight. She leans on and elbow as she squints through the window and cranes over the armrest.

You pick up the old can and put the new one on the small table by the chair. She sits back and takes the Coke, trembling as she struggles to crack the tab. You know better than to help her. The curl in her lip warns you better.

“Someone’s looking at the place next door,” she says.

“Oh?” You move behind her chair and try to the next house. You can only really see the edge of the porch from here. You could open the side window but that would give more than a view of the siding and might be too obvious. “New neighbours.”

“Eh, if it sells. Could do better without these stuck-up prissy bitches running around measuring grass,” she growls of the Home Owners’ Association.

You nod. She’s right. You’ve had to deal with that nosy blonde too many times.

“We’ll see,” she mutters as she finally gets the can open and slurps. “Just hope it’s not another bitch.”

You cross your arms and step closer to the window. You sense movement just beyond your vision and the realtor in her pantsuit comes down the front steps of the neighbouring house. She turns back to face someone you can’t see and speaks to him. Their words are garbled by the barrier of window and wall.

The woman smiles and spins to strut down to the sidewalk. A man follows after, a slow stroll in his long legs. He turns to face the house again and puts his hands in his pockets as he looks up at the facade. His eyes narrow as he considers it.

His gray hair is streaked with remnants of its former blond. If it wasn’t for the colour of his locks, you might not have guessed his age. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad. He’s built finely for any era.

Your mother leans forward again, “heh, lookie there,” she slurs.

She leers through the window as you stare blankly out. A new neighbour just means another person to complain about the lawn; or another person for your mother to complain about. The man pivots on his sole and pauses, his gaze set in your direction. You don’t think he can see you, not with how the sun reflects off the square panes. He stalls for just a moment before he turns complete, striding up towards the realtor.

You back up and retreat toward the kitchen. You mother hums as she continues to snoop through the window. The recliner squeaks beneath her as she shifts in the seat.

“Bit old for a family man,” she tuts.

#dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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rendy-a · 1 day

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Here it is! The winner of the reverse trope poll: Accidentially kidnapping a mafia boss! I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you enjoy it as well!

An Accidental Deal

'Think of the puppies and kittens,' you tell yourself sternly. You stand outside of Ramshackle Shelter and try to psych yourself up for this confrontation. Countless affirmations run through your head. You can do this! The question still remains in your head; when they arrive, will you be able to do it?

The news has been tremendously shocking to all the volunteers: Ramshackle Shelter was all but sold to an entrepreneur to build a branch of a popular ocean-themed cafe. You'd heard of Mostro Lounge but never dared go to such a place. Not because the cafe wasn't nice sounding, no, it was due to the owner. It was an open secret among the residents of your city that the sly restaurateur Azul Ashengrotto was, in fact, mafia boss Don Azul. And now that scummy bastard was this close to shutting down your shelter.

You'd protested at city hall to block the zoning (failure), written to the paper to get the community to object (failure) and tried to raise funds to buy the place yourself (failure). Now, you were down to extreme measures only. So, this was it; you were really going to kidnap someone. You pat the pocket of your jacket where you have a cloth soaked in chemicals to knock someone out. Just one small thing stands in your way, abject fear.

Don Azul was terrifying. You'd expected an aura of danger and power, but when you saw the teal-haired gentleman step from the limo and adjust his hat, you realized you'd grossly underestimated him. He looks like he could bite your arm off... and would probably enjoy it. By contrast, the silver-haired fellow who emerges next in plain shirt sleeves seems far more kidnappable. 'Why can't you be Don Azul?' you think sadly. You watch from your alley hiding spot as the formidable Don and his secretary(?) head inside to inspect the building.

You hurriedly cross the street and slip into the side entrance. You had all the access codes from your years of volunteering, so it was easy for you to navigate the halls quietly and arrive behind the little inspection party. The two men were talking, and the secretary was gesturing in a way that made you feel like they were discussing how to set up the space. After they threw you and the animals out. You grit your teeth and scowl silently at the figure of Don Azul and pat your pocket again; he'd get what was coming to him soon enough.

Then, in a moment that takes your breath away, Don Azul looks up and into a mirror on the wall. For a moment, you think you meet his mis-matched eyes. You feel your heartbeat race as you enter panic mode. Then the Don sneezes, which breaks the illusion. You back your way down the hall and into a storeroom. Maybe you couldn't do this after all. There was no way you could face down that man when you couldn't even stand to meet his gaze.

You need a Plan B. Fast. The adrenaline causes you to shake and you rest your shivering form against a wall to think. What can you still do in this moment? You tap your pocket with the cloth, all set up to abduct someone. Well, that's a waste. Or was it? Your mind strays from the intimidating Don Azul to his companion, the secretary. Was a mafia secretary worth anything as a hostage? You consider the possibility that he might know a great deal of Don Azul's secrets. Maybe that was enough to negotiate for them to leave this place alone?

You hear barking from beyond the hall and guess they've opened the door leading to the dog kennels. In this moment you are decided; for the animals, you can do this. You were kidnapping that little secretary of Don Azul’s. The barking intensifies and then fades to a dull drum. You figure they've gone in back and closed the separating door. It's the perfect time for you to get into some sort of position out front for an ambush. You creep into the entrance room and jump back when you nearly bump into Mr. Secretary. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. His light blue eyes flicker to the door where the frightening Don had disappeared.

"Didn't go in with the boss?" you mutter softly. "The boss?" he questions quietly before his eyes return to the door, and he puts it together. "Ah, yes. I'm sensitive to the dirty, ah, I mean, delightful animals." You scowl at him, "They aren't dirty. And they are a lot more charming than you." The mild man gives a shrug of his eyebrows as though to say, ‘If you say so.’ He seems tired as he sighs heavily and gives you a once over. You’d guess he’s done this any number of times while by the Don’s side. He is experienced and appears to have sized you up in one simple glance. “I take it you were affiliated with the location’s prior business?” This rubs you the wrong way and you whisper shout back, “Its not ‘the location,’ its Ramshackle Shelter and I’m not so sure it’s a prior business either! I’ve got some points to talk over with your boss!”

The man gives you a pitying smirk and another sizing glance. You appear to have been found wanting as he replies, “Is that so?” in a condescending tone. You frown hard, both angry and embarrassed at the interaction. “Anyway, it’s not up to you. I’m not here to make deals with some nobody secretary,” you tell him mockingly. His eyes widen for a moment and then you see the visible effort he makes to hold in his laughter. Ok, this has gone on far enough. Plus, you need to make sure you leave before the evil Don returns. You approach him in what you hope is a decent appearance of menace, “You better just come along quietly.” Finally, he appears to take you seriously as you see his chest expand to take in a large breath before a shout. Unfortunately for Mr. Secretary, you prove faster and thrust the cloth from your pocket over his mouth before he can sound the alarm.

It works like a charm and the small man is very easily knocked out. You run to the storage room and drag out a flat-bed cart used to haul animal kennels back and forth between the entry and back. On the cart is a large and empty kennel big enough to hold a great dane, so you figure one skinny secretary will fit pretty well too. Except, passed out mafia secretaries are significantly more difficult to shove in a kennel than a dog. You heave and shove his limp form until you mentally decide he isn’t so small after all. Fortunately, you manage to get him marginally concealed in the kennel and out the back before you hear the barking of dogs that signals the Don’s return. Time to hustle this cart down the back alley and into the waiting warehouse.

After getting your (not so little) secretary back to the warehouse, you look at him laying limp in the kennel and decide that’s a little too cruel for your taste. So, again, you take the effort to haul his limp form from the kennel and get him settled in what appears to be a reasonably comfortable position on a chair. Then you take a seat in another chair to wait for him to regain consciousness. Plus, you need the time to plan. Before, all your ideas had stemmed from having Don Azul as your hostage. Now that you only had his secretary, you were no longer sure how to even let him know that. Can you just call up the mafia and ask to speak to the Don? That…didn’t feel like a real thing.

You were pondering your options when a groan brings your attention to your hostage. You wait for him to open his eyes, place a tentative hand to his head and groggily ask you what happened. “I kidnapped you, of course,” you cockily reply. He holds up his unbound hands in front of him, “Shouldn’t you have at least tied me up then?” You feel your mouth fall open as you look forlornly at the hands held out for you to see. “Are you going to keep gaping like that? I might mistake you for a guppie,” he states in a cold tone. You slam your hand against a crate and shout, “Better watch that language or I’ll have you singing with the fishes!”

He gives you a startled look and then starts to laugh, “Singing? I think you mean sleeping.” Ok, this could be going better, but you can’t back down now! “I said singing! Maybe I want to hear you sing me a little song, beautiful. I’ve got to get the most out of my little captive princess before I turn her back over to her family,” you finish with a mocking leer. The barest hint of ‘beautiful?’ can be heard coming from the secretary’s mouth. You point at him and declare, “You’ve got two options; stay over there and start talking or walk your pretty little self over here and sing me a song. What’s it going to be, Princess?”

The man gives you a look from deep beneath his long lashes and says, “Those are quite the options.” Then he flushes and gives you another one of those sizing up looks. This time, it takes him several minutes to make up his mind, which you suppose is an improvement. Finally, he narrows his eyes in challenge and says, “Very well, if that’s how you’d like it,” and stands. You don’t quite know what to do when he marches over and sits in your lap. Then he looks at you coyly and whispers, “Did you have any requests?” This certainly wasn’t in your plan. You shrug helplessly and finally from the depths of your throat you hear, “Row, Row, Row your Boat?” emerge from your mouth. The corner of his lips curl up momentarily before he schools his expression, “Of course, as you wish.” Then he begins singing.

You feel silly for having requested such a childish song but, to his credit, he gives it a serious effort. And he sings amazingly. You listen attentively and when he finishes, you apologize, “I’d clap but I’m afraid that would knock you from my lap.” He smiles for a moment before replying in a serious tone, “That is an important point to consider. Perhaps you could join me in a verse instead.” Then he runs his thumb along your bottom lip with a coy gaze and breathlessly starts another round of Row, Row, Row your Boat. You feel a bit silly, but it would be rude to refuse after all that, so you timidly join him. When you finish, he smiles, “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You suddenly remember that he is The Enemy and frown sternly. “Come now,” he chides playfully, “I’m just pointing out that I’m not that difficult to work with, Angelfish.”

“If you lot were so reasonable to work with, then why is my shelter being closed down!” you shout with tears forming in your eyes. You hate this feeling, like you are the vulnerable one when he is the one who is kidnapped. He looks deeply into your wavering eyes and finally sighs, “That place is really important to you, isn’t it?” You look up at him and answer passionately, “Not just for me but for all the animals. They have nowhere else to go. No one to look after them. If we turn them away, what will happen to them?” You can’t stand to look at his sympathetic gaze and turn to look at the floor instead, “Your boss’s café could go anywhere. Why take this from me? From them?”

The man, who you decide is far more gentle than you originally thought, appears to genuinely be considering your argument. For the first time since you met him, you give him one of your friendly smiles, “I know it isn’t your fault. You aren’t the boss.” Then you pat him gently on the back. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m going to fix this somehow.” His breath catches and he whispers, “You just might at that.” You give him a grateful look, “At least someone has confidence in me. I feel like I’ve done nothing but mess up all day.” The gently man is having none of this, “I don’t know what you mean, Angelfish, you seem to be doing quite well from my perspective.” You laugh and give him a grateful smile, “Well thanks for that. I think I needed some cheering up.”

The kind (you’ve upgraded him to kind) man gives you a small caress on the cheek, “Is there anything I can do to help?” You look deep into his beautiful eyes and remark, “I wouldn’t mind another song.” He brushes a stray hair from your forehead and begins to sing again.

And that is when they find you. An amused chuckle from the door alerts you to his presence and you stop your duet immediately to turn, horrified, to face Don Azul. You fearfully meet the eyes of the lovely man in your lap and stammer, “It..its Don Azul, he found us.” Your statement causes the intimidating man to open his mis-matched eyes wide. Then, he bursts out into an unhinged laugh. Your fear compounds exponentially when you hear another voice emerge from the unguarded back entrance, “What’s so funny? Go ahead, I’m in the mood for a joke.” You turn your head and can’t help but blurt out, “Holy shit, there’s two of them!”

Your companion gives a resigned sigh and stands up, “Jade, Floyd. Come along. We’re leaving now.” You look up at him, entirely overwhelmed. He meets your eye and then smiles sadly, “In case you aren’t quite finished with me yet.” Then he reaches into his breast pocket, retrieves a small case and extracts a business card. He slips it gently into your hand and then walks confidently past the intimidating man (Jade? Floyd?) and out the door. The frightening twins give you amused (and terrifying) smiles as they silently turn and follow him out the door. It is several minutes before you regain your senses enough to turn over the card in your hand. It reads in flowing script: Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Lounge.

-Several months later-

You sit at your desk and page through another document. In the background, the sound of barking dogs is almost soothing to your ears. Then, a nervous volunteer practically runs into your office, “Director! Someone is here. I…I think he might mean to tear up the place!” You calmly look up from your desk, “And then serve you tea afterward or burn the place down?” The volunteer looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. A moment later, a fearful comprehension crosses their face as they mutter, “Oh my god, there are two of them!” You nod, so, it’s both.

When the pair of twins saunter into your office, you smile welcomingly, “Jade, Floyd. How nice it is to see you today.” Floyd comes around the desk to drape an arm over your shoulders, “Hey Shrimpy, bossman sent us to pick you up.” You nod agreeably, “That’s right. Its opening night.” Jade places a palm to his chest, “The newest branch of Mostro Lounge will be most delighted to have the Director’s patronage for this special occasion.” You nod and direct them to wait out front as you finish things up back here.

When they leave, the fear struck volunteer questions you, “Who were they? They look like the mafia!” You shrug, “As far as I know, they are just employees of Mostro Lounge. As far as I know.” They give you a look, “Isn’t that the place that nearly shut us down a few months ago?” You grab your long purple jacket and give them a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yeah but we’ve come to an agreement since then.” The volunteer gives you a considering look and backs a half-step away, as though suddenly wondering if they’d misjudged the familiar Director of Ramshackle Shelter.

You understand, you’d been there before, so you pay them no mind. Brushing past the volunteer to flick off the light, letting them hide in the darkness of your office. Then you head out and wave to your waiting escort, “Come on boys. I’ve got a date with the princess. Time to make him sing for me.” Your inside joke never fails to amuse them, and they laugh appreciatively. Your relationship was a complicated thing. You weren’t sure who was supposed to be the hero or the villain in the whole story but, you supposed, you didn’t really care. Floyd held the door of the long black limo for you, and you stepped inside. You could ponder the morality of the whole thing later; you had your Princess waiting for you tonight. And, if you were lucky, you’d have Azul sing your song for you again. Ah, life was but a dream.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #reverse tropes

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mochatsin · 23 hours

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When MC is a Writer

You’ve written several books back in the human realm, some posted online while others were published. You have some works unfinished but since you were taken to Devildom, you had to put them on hold. Eventually the brothers find out about your hobby.

Hi I had this idea while I was reading light novels. Certain brothers would have certain themes in whatever is being written to fit them, but feel free to imagine what kind of story your MC would write. Thanks for reading!

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Lucifer

Lucifer was out on a stroll on RAD when he spotted you with Simeon having lunch together, looking deep in discussion. He does notice that you both have been spending a lot of time together and a part of him is curious as to why that is. You’re either talking with Simeon during lunch breaks or meeting up with him after school. He’s not jealous, Lucifer is more intrigued as to what must be so important that you come home late after your visits with the angel.

You were both in his study when he finally asked you about it. You were late for dinner yesterday after coming home late from purgatory hall, Lucifer wouldn’t want you to start ditching your duties if it’s your turn to make dinner for the week. You explain to him that you’re not trying to avoid your chores at all, there’s just something that you needed Simeon’s help with. Now what could possibly Simeon do that Lucifer couldn’t? He probes a bit more until you spill the truth.

You tell Lucifer that you and Simeon are meeting up together because you’re trying to tie the loopholes in this story that you were writing, and Simeon has given you great advice as a fellow writer. Now Lucifer is intrigued, enough to the point he put down his fountain pen and paused in his work. That can wait until tomorrow, he wants to hear all about your writing. He won’t pressure you into talking if you don’t want to tell him yet, but he promises not to make fun of whatever you make.

You both enjoy a glass of demonus while you tell Lucifer the premise of your story, giving him enough background and detail for him to understand the part that you’re having trouble writing. Surprisingly, Lucifer is also quite a big help as he asks you thought provoking questions and offers suggestions that you can try to implement into your works. Given that he’s read several pieces of literature for the years he’s been alive, he has a lot of insight on what you can do to pace your story better.

There’s a small smile on his face as he notices how your eyes shine every time you figure out a way for you to write the next parts, and he sits there in his spot sipping on his drink while you talk about what you can do for future updates. It’s impressive just listening to you untangle such an intricate story as if you’re just placing pieces of a puzzle together. To him, your mind is beautiful.

Some time later, you found Lucifer by the living room with your book in his hand. He said that even though you explained the story, he still wanted to see how it really goes and appreciate your work. You asked if there’s anything you can do to thank him the other day for helping you, and all Lucifer asked is that he’s the first to know once you update.

Mammon

Mammon is lounging in your room while he’s checking his stocks and latest lottery results (he lost) when you start asking him questions about gambling. He interpreted this as you finally having an interest in his gambling habits so he began talking about the mechanics. Roulette tables, machines, you name it and he’ll explain it with great detail. It would make the brothers wonder why Mammon can’t even remember to do all his chores when he can recall all of these with ease.

You also ask about how people normally scheme and cheat in casinos. At first he thought you were accusing him even though he often does that in game nights at the House of Lamentation (Levi caught him), but then he realizes it’s just pure curiosity so he explains how he’s heard some people pull it off. It’s a high risk kind of stunt and since he doesn’t want to be banned from the casino then he doesn’t resort to those methods.

Mammon then starts questioning why you’re asking these. It’s not like you were going to gamble right? He silently hoped you weren’t in debt to the point you’re resorting to gambling but no that’s not the case. You tell him that you’re trying to write a scene and it takes place in a casino, and since Mammon spends a lot of his time in those places then his experience makes him the best person to ask. He was definitely turning red at that last part.

Mammon goes back to his room and since you talked about your writing, he searches for it online to check out your works. He didn’t know you were such a big shot in the reading community so he wants to see what your stuff was about. It started as reading the summary, to reading the introduction, and now he’s updated. They were all right, you’re good.

Mammon starts reading more often, though it’s mostly limited to the things you’ve written before. Satan has been trying to get him to read his personal recommendations but if it’s something written by you then he’s not hesitating to pick it up. Lucifer is personally thanking you for giving Mammon something that helped temporarily forget his gambling habits and dumb schemes.

If you have any more questions about gambling or anything, Mammon is always happy to tell you everything he knows. Heck, he even offered to bring you over to the casino to let you have some personal experience of whatever that is you’re writing but the brothers warned you against that idea if you want to come back home with Grimm still in your pockets.

Levi

Lately Levi has been reading a lot of Light Novels. Usually he’d be updating himself with manga he’s read to check for any new updates but he decided to pick on light novels that one of his favorite manga’s are based on. He claims that despite the manga and anime adaptations, there’s still a whole world of lore that there’s yet to discover so he wants to pick up on those, and he eventually came to appreciate these sorts of books.

He was going through some recommendations and read through some of them, but one series definitely caught his attention and he spent an entire night trying to catch up to the latest update. He went to the breakfast table with heavy bags in his eyes and a big pout on his face so you ask him what’s wrong.

He tells you that he found an interesting book series that has all his favorite tropes, but the author went on a sudden hiatus so there weren't any new updates as of recently. Biggest problem is that the chapter was left on a cliffhanger. You let him ramble on with the story until you realized that was one of your works. You were debating if you should admit it or not but maybe it’s best you do.

You explained that you were actually the author and the work was on pause because of the exchange program. You wrote it in the human realm but because you were taken to Devildom, you couldn’t find the time to continue writing. Levi wasn’t sure if he should believe you were actually the author because no way can this happen to him twice, first it was TSL now it’s this one.

He asked you several questions about the series like another TSL trivia quiz. His question went from easy basic knowledge to something oddly specific, but since you wrote it then you answered everything perfectly. Levi has that sparkle in his eyes that he usually has when he looks at his idols, except this time it’s with you.

Levi refuses to hear any major spoiler from you so that his reactions are genuine by the time you update. You’re instantly one of his favorite writers and he won't hesitate to hype up your work on any forum platform. He can talk about how much he loves your writing to the point that you’re motivated to go back to finishing the next chapters. Maybe you could let Levi take a peek to be the first person to read once you’re done.

Satan

It’s always a nice leisure time to just sit in a room with Satan, both of you doing your own thing while discussing books you’ve both read recently. Often though you both do that in his room but since his recent rampage left everything a bigger mess than it already was to begin with, your book discussions were held in your room for the time being until his place gets cleaned up. Barbatos is not going to be happy about it.

You can see how he’s dying to discuss the latest book he’s read so the moment you say he can go first, he’s talking almost to a Levi level kind of excitement. Satan tells you how he recently found a series he’s invested in. The story and pacing are so good that he was hooked on it immediately, recalling all his favorite lines and scenes from it. He talks about the work in high regards and how he hopes the author comes back soon with some updates.

You don’t know if you should be surprised that Satan has already come across your works considering that most of his days are dedicated to reading. You haven’t told him about this part of your life since he’s read so many good books, you fear it may not be up to match with other great writers so you kept it a secret from him. It's nice to see that Satan is praising your works, unaware that you were the author.

You left your laptop on one day and Satan didn’t intend to look but accidentally did. He thought it was a homework essay for one of your classes, but he was surprised to see your drafts of the next chapters. Satan wanted to assume you were those fanfic writers that Levi has been talking about, but he does see that it was all aligned to the latest update. Realizing how much he just talked about your work in front of you made him red from embarrassment, but he’s proud more than anything else.

He comes clean that he knows your secret while apologizing for taking a peek, but he’s quite ecstatic to be associated with someone as talented as you are. It’s one thing to be a fan of books, it’s another to be writing a good one. If you need a beta reader, he’s always ready to lend his services. He’s a quick reader and he can lend useful advice or proper criticisms. At least he can be useful to you and it’s a bonus to be the first out of everyone to read about it.

Other than being a huge bookworm, Satan is the most knowledgeable among the brothers so if you’re struggling with writing something you don’t know too much about then he’ll help fill in the gaps of your knowledge. If it’s something he’s not familiar with then expect to wake up the next day finding out that Satan spent the night researching it for you so he could answer any question you have. He’d love to help you out in whatever way he can.

Asmo

Asmo has been whining to the house of purgatory for any ideas because he needs to make some new content for his account because he wants to keep his followers entertained. He’s always doing makeup and skin care reviews because it’s what he does best (and also because he’s sponsored to do so), so Asmo is thinking of what’s something new he can do this time. It’s good to do something new from time to time to shock his fanbase.

Simeon suggests that Asmo should go read a book. At first the demon thought he was being condescending, but given that it’s a suggestion from Simeon then it’s definitely a genuine one. Asmo wanted to turn down the idea, though Simeon adds that he should read books up his alley. Perhaps a romance book should suit his tastes? They’re not too complicated to read and can be entertaining if written well. Being an Avatar of Lust, romance does sound intriguing and Simeon has the perfect book to recommend.

Asmo shocks everyone at the House of Lamentation when he comes home reading a book. It has a pretty cover and talks a tale of lovers, plus it was easy for him to digest since the book isn’t as thick and heavy like the ones that Satan normally likes to read. He seems overjoyed by the book that Simeon suggested to him and it must take a lot for a story to captivate Asmo that he almost forgets his nightly skin care routine.

He’s laying on your lap, swinging his feet with glee as he talks to you about this book he’s been fussing over. The story progressed so nicely between the two lovebirds, and each obstacle is so entertaining that Asmo can’t help but go through the next pages to see what happened. Does it strain the relationship? Do they break up? How will it go from here on then? It’s all too good! One of the best romance books he’s read so far.

The more he talked about the twists and the plot, the more you realized that he was talking about your book that you published before you even got to Devildom. You ask Asmo how he got his hands on that book since it’s from the human realm, and he tells you that Simeon suggested it. You sighed, of course it was Simeon. He was the only one who knew you wrote books because you told him, though you didn’t expect that he’d suggest it to Asmo of all people.

Eventually you come clean to Asmo that you were the author, and it took a bit of explaining until he would believe you. You showed him your old drafts of when you worked, maybe some pictures of that time when you were storyboarding the book so you could convince him. He’s shocked to see this precious human has quite the talent of writing romance novels, he almost believed that your works were written by cupid himself! His new promotional video is him raving about your books, talking about how his heart skipped a beat and whatnot. The sales spiked that day.

Beel

Beel came home from practice one afternoon and due to the intensive workout, he’s definitely starving for something. He bought some Black Puddle Jelly from Madam Scream’s before he went home because he thought about sharing them with you. Food always tastes better when it’s with you. He would’ve brought Belphie with him, though his twin is still in detention for pulling a prank on Lucifer during class earlier.

He looks for you but before he goes to your room, he spots you by the kitchen instead trying to cook up something. As far as Beel knows, it’s Levi who would be on dinner duties for tonight so he’s wondering what you’re doing in there. The aroma of what you were making is what drew Beel to you, and he asks what you were up to when you spot him behind you, mouth already watering.

You tell Beel that you’re trying to cook some recipe you found online while making use of the ingredients here in Devildom. It’s the first time you went out to buy every ingredient on your own to experiment, and Beel immediately points out to you which ones would probably be safe to eat and what would be dangerous to add in the dish because some ingredients won’t react well with each other. Even though Beel can most likely eat anything, he wouldn’t want you to accidentally poison yourself.

Beel watches you type down some notes on your phone and asks if that was for the recipe, though you tell him that you’re writing details. You’re attempting to cook with foreign ingredients because you’re trying to immerse yourself with a character you’re writing in your story. A character that’s trying to discover some new recipes with things they’ve never seen before.

You’re thankful for Beel’s advice about the ingredients earlier, it helped you gain some more insight and inspiration on what to do for the next chapters. You’re already imagining the culinary endeavors your character will go through while you’re chopping the mandrakes you got. The demon is happy to help and all Beel asks is that you feed him whatever you’re making when you’re done, since he likes your cooking after all. He sits by the island counter, chewing on the Black Puddle Pudding while he listens to you discuss your book with him.

Beel eventually walks up to you one day and admits that he tried to read your works. Your culinary adventure storyline is fantastic, but when it starts to describe all the delicious food that the character makes, Beel’s hunger starts to spike that he almost ate the page. There’s just something about the way you discuss the food that makes it sound so appetizing to him, he almost wants to recreate it with you. When you offer to read it with him while he eats some snacks, he has this happy smile on his face as he nods.

Belphie

Belphie just got back from RAD, stretching his limbs a bit and yawning as he opens the door. He just came back from detention for pulling pranks, and all he wants to do is to just fall asleep right now. He wanted to invite Beel for a nap but his twin is still in practice so he’s not available. You were the next person he had in mind, so he went out searching for you around the house.

He finds you by the planetarium, and he was ready to invite you to sleep but he sees that your focus has been going back and forth between your notes and the stars in the sky. Since Devildom always has an endless night time, you’re able to study the constellations as freely as you want. There’s no need for you to wait for the sun to set like you had to back in the human realm. There are books about Devildom stars scattered around you, ones you’ve borrowed from the library or from Satan’s collection so you can study them better.

He sits down next to you, resting his head over your shoulder and asking if you’re trying to memorize the constellations. You explain that you’re trying to get inspiration and notes for something you’re writing, a short fairy tale that’s dedicated to the stars this time. You’ve written fairy tales before you got here, and you want to make something inspired from Devildom stars. The constellations they have here are way different from what you normally see in the human realm, so you’re sure that the stories behind them are different as well.

A fairy tale about stars? Written by one of the people he cares about the most? Belphie is definitely interested in hearing more about it. He doesn’t try to tease you or anything about the fact you’re writing stories, he’s even willing to offer to help you by telling you everything he knows about the stars and the stories behind each constellation that he can remember at the top of his head in hopes that may spark more inspirations. Satan may know a lot of things, but Belphie is passionate about stars and you can feel it from the way he talks.

Belphie is incredibly drowsy the next day since he spent the night talking about your writing and helping you with it. He can’t help it when it’s about stars, and Belphie loves the way your eyes light up whenever you get an idea that you can put in. To him, it almost shines like the stars you’re writing about. He may have a vague idea of your story based on yesterday’s conversation, but he’s excited to read the final outcome. He’s seen glimpses of your works when you showed him your notes, it would definitely be worth the wait.

You invited him back to the planetarium because you want to show him your draft underneath all the stars. Even when he’s tired, he shows up and lays next to you to rest with all these pillows. The only favor he asked was that you read the fairytale for him while he rests, he promises he’ll try not to fall asleep. You read the story to him, occasionally checking if he’s still awake or not. Whenever you stopped, he would squeeze your hand and despite having his eyes closed, he would tell you to continue with such a groggy voice. He manages to at least hear the rest of it before falling asleep with a smile on his face.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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alwaysbethewest · 2 days

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Triple Frontier/Narcos fic: Crossing the Streams

This week is @fleetwoodmactshirt's birthday and I knew I wanted to write her something if I could—it was just a question of what. Frankie Morales making ravioli from scratch? An intimate morning spent with Ezra? Or: this? A deeply self-indulgent (and Fleetwood-indulgent) AU of an AU crossed over with another AU from an entirely different piece of media. It made sense in my head.

This concept is something we've jokingly(?) discussed for years but it always felt too outrageous to actually put to words. Until now. Happy birthday, beloved! I hope this makes you smile.

Title: Crossing the Streams Characters/Pairings: Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Javier Peña, OFC, Baby Morales, ghost!Reader. Nascent Fishben implied; Javi/OFC implied. Rating: Teen (but maybe Gen) Word count: 1.8k Content/warnings: Crossover of my ghost 'verse and @fleetwoodmactshirt's Javier Peña X-Files AU 🙃 Not really exactly officially a part of the ghost 'verse, but could be considered a spin-off chapter of it maybe. I don't think any particular warnings apply. Reader is a ghost. The OFC listed above is the reader from Fleetwood's AU, and I tried to leave her a blank slate. Javi holds the baby a lot. I fudged the timelines so Javi is older but not as much older as he would be. Unbetaed, so let me know if you spot any mistakes.

You can see the family resemblance immediately. The man standing in the foyer isn’t an exact carbon copy of Francisco, but they could easily be mistaken for brothers. Benny had been the one to answer the door and the visitor is sizing him up, friendly but with a hint of narrow-eyed assessment peeking through. Benny senses it and stands a little straighter, calling over his shoulder, “Fish, they’re here!”

The slap-slap-slap sound of the baby’s hands on the hardwood floor announces her arrival even before she rounds the corner into the hallway, crawling rapidly towards the front door while Francisco ambles behind her. Ben scoops her up before she can reach the threshold, easily hefting her up to his shoulder, while the other men greet each other with a hug.

“Ah, mi sobrino!” Francisco’s uncle gives him an affectionate pat on the cheek. “Te ves bien, Francisco.”

“Hola, tío Javi,” he says with a grin. “Come on in. You met Benny?”

Now that they’re standing side by side you’re able to see the similarities and differences between them. Javier is older by fifteen years or so, his dark hair greying at the temples, slim body still fit but gone a little soft around the middle. He’s cleanshaven but for an attractive, full mustache, and his warm brown eyes are shielded by a pair of glasses with dark, slightly rounded plastic frames.

Javier nods. “I haven’t met this one yet, though,” he says, reaching for Francisco’s daughter. She goes to him without hesitation and he has to catch her chubby hands in his before she can drag his glasses down his nose. He pulls a face at her and she giggles.

“And is your…” Francisco pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Partner outside?”

Javi glances out the open door. “She’s getting some equipment out of the trunk. Listen,” he says, lowering his voice a little, “she takes this stuff seriously and she can be a little—excitable, about it. Take it easy on her, okay?”

This stuff, as it turns out, is investigating the world of the paranormal.

After Francisco’s mom had heard about Santiago’s suspicion that the house was haunted, she’d been the one to suggest he invite tío Javier and his… partner, for a visit. (You understand the hesitation before “partner” as soon as you see her; the energy flowing between them is lit up with something far brighter than a pair of regular, platonic co-workers would ever have. And even someone without your vision might notice the way it takes her a moment to recover from the sight of him with the baby in his arms, or how his hand hovers over the small of her back as they make their way down the hall.)

Francisco leads them into the kitchen, where he sets a pot of coffee brewing.

“You can set her down if you want,” he tells Javi, nodding to the baby’s high chair.

“That’s alright,” he says, taking a seat and easily shifting her into the crook of his arm. He crosses his legs so she’s half in his lap and bounces his thigh, just lightly, offering up his free hand for her to pull and pinch and bite at as she likes to keep her entertained.

His partner is watching from the doorway and you observe with interest how her breathing goes almost imperceptibly unsteady before she gathers herself again.

“So which of you saw the ghost?” she asks Francisco and Benny.

Ben’s eyes shift to the corner where you’re perched on the kitchen counter, but Francisco is already answering for the both of them. “Neither of us,” he tells her. “Our friend Santiago is the one who thinks he saw something.”

She’s taking notes in a pocket-sized notebook.

“And what was it that Santiago saw?”

“Socks,” he says, in a tone that indicates he thinks this is just as silly as it sounds.

“Socks,” she echoes, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Floating in the air.” He makes a vague, floaty gesture with one hand while pouring the coffee with the other.

Tío Javi’s partner finally takes a seat at the table, so she’s not stuck juggling her coffee cup and the notebook. The baby leans towards her, curious, and she gives her a polite smile. “Hello.” Then, struck by a thought, she looks to Francisco again.

“Has the baby seen the ghost?” she asks.

Benny’s eyes widen. Francisco just chuckles. “Not that she’s mentioned,” he says dryly. “Look, I don’t want to be wasting your time. You should know that—I’m not suggesting Santi’s making it up or anything but—the guy’s had more than one concussion before. You know what I’m saying?”

“That’s interesting,” she remarks, jotting it down.

Francisco exchanges a glance with Javier.

“Is it?”

“Well, brain injuries, trauma, near-death experiences—they can open a person’s senses to things that others can’t see,” she explains.

He looks skeptical.

“We’ve all had near-death experiences,” he says, gesturing around the room. He says it so matter-of-factly that she looks startled, and maybe a little concerned. “Ben and I were Special Forces. Tío, I’ve heard your stories from Colombia. We’ve all dealt with some dark shit.”

Javi flattens his mouth in a grim line. Ben is rubbing his knuckles over his lips and you can see the anxiety building in him. The room falls silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” she says. Under the table, Javi shifts his leg to bump his foot with hers reassuringly.

“No.” Francisco frowns. “I’m sorry. You’re just doing your job. You—I know you brought some gear with you. You’re welcome to check the house, or… do whatever you need. I’ll show you where Santi saw the socks in the air.”

She sets down her pen.

“If you don’t mind.”

Francisco leads her upstairs to the nursery. You’re not sure you want to get anywhere near her ghost-hunting equipment, whatever it may be, so you stick to the kitchen and keep Ben company while he attempts to make conversation with Francisco’s uncle.

“So you worked in Colombia,” he tries. Javi gives a quiet grunt to the affirmative. He doesn’t want to talk about that—you can tell, and Benny figures it out pretty quickly, too.

“Do you—” he starts, but Javi’s already speaking.

“What’s the situation here?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Between you and Frankie.”

You can almost feel the heat radiating off him as the air shimmering around Benny turns a deep, blushing pink.

“There’s no situation,” he says.

“You’re roommates?”

“Yeah—I mean, we’ve been friends for a long time. My lease ended a few months ago and he said I could stay here. He has a guest room,” he adds, a touch defensively.

Javi smiles and nods like he hadn’t meant anything by it.

“What about you?” Benny asks. He nods to the ceiling, where Javi’s partner is upstairs. “You guys seem close. Are you dating her?”

Javi’s placid smile doesn’t falter for a moment, but his eyes narrow a little.

“No,” he says. “She has a guest room, too.”

Ben’s mouth opens, then snaps closed, and the men sit in silence for a moment.

“I think she wants to get down,” he says, gesturing to the baby in Javi’s arms, who’s squirming and lunging forward as if to jump to the floor. He sets her down carefully on all fours and she takes off at speed, leaving Ben to scramble behind her. Javier looks around the empty room, eyes skipping right over you, drains his coffee, and follows suit.

You trail behind him to the living room, where Benny has deposited the baby in the middle of the conversation pit with a basket of toys. Javi stops short, taken aback by the sunken couches.

“Holy shit,” he says. “This place hasn’t been remodeled in a while, huh?”

Benny glances at you, knowing this subject is a sore spot. You’d taken great pride in this house, back when it had belonged just to you, and you’re not sure why everybody keeps wishing to change it now.

“We like it,” he tells him. “It’s got character. Plus, this is like a built-in play pen. She’s too little to climb out.”

Javier sits himself down, spreading his legs comfortably wide in a confident-man sprawl.

“It’s a good house,” he admits. “Quiet neighborhood.”

They watch the baby playing on the floor. You join her there, rolling plastic balls back to her too subtly for Javier to realize they haven’t simply bounced.

“Can I ask you something?” Benny says. Javi raises an eyebrow in assent. “Say there is a ghost—” he starts.

“There isn’t.” Javi narrows his eyes a little, like he’s trying to decide if Benny really believes in something so unfathomable.

Benny is avoiding your gaze.

“But theoretically,” he says. “If there was. What would—I mean—What do you do? Like if the EMF meter or whatever registered something.”

“Well,” Javi replies slowly. “Theoretically, if there was a ghost hanging around I think my partner would tell you there’s something unresolved that they still need. A sense of peace, or…”

He pauses, scratching his chin. Eyes still on the child.

“It’s the same as what anybody wants, right? A sense of fulfillment. So you can move on.”

It makes something feel hollow and fluttery inside your chest, achy like you haven’t felt in a while. Now you’re the one avoiding Ben’s eyes, when he looks at you. You retreat to the corner, wanting to be alone but unwilling to give up eavesdropping on such a rare visit.

Their conversation is cut short by the others’ return. Francisco still looks skeptical and she looks thoughtful. Javi tilts his head back and raises an eyebrow.

“Inconclusive,” she announces. “There were some very interesting readings but nothing concrete. There are some other tests we could—”

“I think this is enough,” Francisco cuts her off gently. “It’s not like any of us have been possessed. If blood starts dripping down the walls, we’ll call you back.”

“Well, for a simple specter I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” she assures him. “Blood drips can be indicative of—”

“It was a joke,” he says, and she smiles but she also shrugs like, well, we’ll see.

“Mijo,” Javier says, changing the subject for everyone’s sake. “Pick a restaurant, we’ll go out to dinner, my treat. Your roommate can come too.”

The emphasis he puts on roommate isn’t strong enough for Francisco to pick up on, but Benny does and he shoots Javi a narrow look. Javi gives him an innocent grin and turns back to the baby, who’s been pulling herself up on his pant legs, trying to climb up to her dad since he’d walked in the room. He swings her into his arms and hands her over to Francisco, and after a ten-minute debate over a pizzeria versus a steakhouse, and a five-minute diaper change, the group heads outside.

Alone in the quiet house, you float up to your attic window seat, where you settle in to contemplate tío Javi’s words about things unresolved.

(tiny tag list: @pedrostories, @littlemisspascal, @loversandantiheroes, @by-ilmater, @pettyprocrastination, @littleferal, @pennyserenade)

#narcos fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #benny miller #javier peña #fishben #pedro pascal #my fic

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bibannana · 10 months

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Fives *confidently*: I could fight a Wookie

Echo *sprawled on his bunk*: You could not.

Jesse *scoffing*: You would lose straight away.

Fives *points at him*: I said I could fight one, I didn't say I would win.

Echo *facepalms*: Di'kut.

Hardcase *sits up, filled with overconfidence*: I would win.

Tup *throws a boot a him*: You would not. Go back to sleep.

Fives and Hardcase *discussing (quite loudly) how they would fight a Wookie*

Rex *opens the door to the barricks*: If I get you a Wookie to fight will you all go to sleep and shut up?

Kix *who just wants to sleep*: I'm not patching any of you up if you go and fight a Wookie.

Taglist: @soliloquy-of-nemo @nekotaetae @staycalmandhugaclone @sexy-rex @jiabeewrites

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deadsetobsessions · 2 months

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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards #he got his GED in this one boys #let Tim fucking age #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny the tired college student #bamf danny phantom #siren au???#sea cryptic Danny #bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work #terrible why do I do this to myself #the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself #Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days #sea cryptic! danny au

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scealaiscoite · 6 months

Text

“i’ll keep you safe” prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

⋆ “i can stay the night, y’know. if it’d make you feel better.”

⋆ “try and get some sleep. i’ll stay right here- i won’t let anything happen to you, i swear.”

⋆ “you should’ve told me this was going on. i would’ve put a stop to it the second i heard about it.”

⋆ “no one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? no one.”

⋆ “either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or i will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. you know i’ll have no problem with either option.”

⋆ “you must be freezing- here, take my jacket.”

⋆ “this place is dicey at the best of times. just take my hand until we’re clear of it, yeah?”

⋆ “anyone touches you, says anything to you, so much as looks at you the wrong way- you come get me, and i’ll set them straight. understand?”

⋆ “i’m not jealous. i just know the intentions that someone like that has for you, even if you claim not to see them yourself.”

⋆ “stay behind me, no matter what.”

⋆ "i know you can't believe it yet, but i promise you can trust me. whenever you're ready to rely on me, i'll be here for you. i swear it."

⋆ “i like seeing you this way. so… at ease. makes me wonder how anyone could ever purposely put you under stress and live with themselves afterwards.”

⋆ “shut up and just let me take care of you!”

⋆ “this isn’t up for discussion. i know you’re used to looking out for yourself, but i need you to understand that you don’t have to live like that anymore. i’m here. for as long as i’m around, i’m going to come between you and anything that wants to hurt you.”

⋆ “no one’s ever going to hurt you again. i promise you that on everything i believe in.”

#can you tell how bad i’ve been hyperfixating on captain price lol #microdosing on dealing with my parental issues by thinking of all the ways a gruff fictional englishman would keep me safe <3 #prompts #protective prompts #hurt/comfort prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #dialogue prompts #rp meme #protective rp meme

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girasollake · 4 months

Note

Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.

She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date

Thank youuu!

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧

(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x

told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it

i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.

‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’

‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’

¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.

‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.

‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’

‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.

SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’

You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.

‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.

‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.

You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.

‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.

‘Of course.’ You smiled.

‘I have a question.’

‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘

‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’

‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’

‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.

Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.

‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.

‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.

‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’

‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.

‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.

‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’

‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.

His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.

He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’

You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.

‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’

‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.

‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’

The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.

He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.

He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.

‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.

‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.

‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’

‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.

‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.

You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’

‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.

Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.

He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.

‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.

His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.

‘I lied.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’

‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’

‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’

‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’

‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’

‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

@ girasollake 2024

#imagine #x reader #🤍 - girasollake writing event ☾ ⋆*#theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x fem!reader

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beanthesprout · 4 months

Text

Just Like That

Soft Bucky x fem reader

Bucky can't handle seeing you in his shirt.

Warnings: soft dom bucky, praise kink, body worshipping, fingering, vaginal penetration

Requested by @bucky-barnes-lover

I hope you like it! I'm a bit rusty with writing so I'm sorry if it's weird or if he's out of character.

Requests are still open!

Bucky was anxiously waiting on the couch of the common room in the Avenger's Tower. You were supposed to be returning from a pretty dangerous mission. He was well aware you could absolutely handle anything thrown your way, but he still couldn't help but worry. He adored you.

His head snapped up as he heard the elevator ding and footsteps coming down the hall. You were waving off Tony, trying to just go and shower and relax after the mission you'd just had, but he was insistent on discussing your next mission.

Bucky stood as you walked in the room and felt his heart melt as he watched your face of annoyance over Tony change to one of warmth and adoration when you saw him. You happily waved off Tony and walked up to Bucky and gave him a loving kiss.

"Hey sweetheart." You murmured.

"Hey doll." His voice was low and warm, "How'd it go?"

"Good as usual. I'm sore and exhausted though."

His hand came up to stroke your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

"Can we go lay in bed after my shower?" You asked.

"Of course we can."

You grinned and kissed his cheek before making your way to shower. You grabbed a some fresh underwear and one of Bucky's old t-shirts.

The shower felt like heaven. Hot water relaxed your muscles and washed away the grime. You took your time, eventually stepping out and slathering on that lavender scented lotion you and Bucky loved and pulling on the underwear and shirt you'd grabbed.

You loved wearing his shirts, they were so soft and fit comfortably. You preferred his clothes to yours any day.

You wandered into Bucky's room, hair still dripping, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and looked up when you walked in. A blush colored his cheeks when he saw you.

"That's my shirt." He sounded indifferent but you could hear the tiniest bit of amusement in his voice.

"Mine now."

He stared at you for a moment before patting his thigh, "C'mere."

Obediently you moved to straddle his lap, your thighs resting on either side of him. His hands came to rest on your waist.

"You're beautiful." He murmured.

"Thank you." You said softly.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your jaw, trailing up before nibbling on your earlobe. You sighed softly, which caused him to grin.

His hands trailed to the edge of your shirt, fingers playing with the hem.

"You're drivin me crazy doll." His voice was husky with lust.

"I'm not even doing anything Buck." You chuckled.

"You're doing everything." He whispered as he pressed kisses to your neck, gently sucking and teasing at the skin with his teeth.

Soft moans fell from your lips as he left marks from your neck down to your chest.

"Keep making those pretty noises for me doll." He groaned against your neck as his hands slid under your shirt.

The coolness of his metal fingers gave tou goosebumps and pulled another moan from you. Your hands grabbed at his shirt and he gently bit your neck. Every little thing he did was driving you crazy.

His hands slid further up your shirt to grope at your breasts, teasing your nipples, grinning at the way you squirmed and whined.

In the blink of an eye his arms wrapped around you and he flipped the two of you over so you were laying on the bed and he was leaning over you.

"You look so good like that." He was staring down at your flushed face, you were slightly panting. You looked like a mess, but to him you'd never been more beautiful.

He leaned down to press his lips to yours, grunting softly when you eagerly kissed him back. You reached your arms up to wrap around his neck but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. His metal hand trailed from your jaw, down your neck and over your chest to the hem of your underwear.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, drawing out a moan from both of you. He pulled back to look at you.

"Let me take care of you." His voice was a murmur, his breath tickled your lips.

"Please."

"Good girl."

His metal fingers swiftly tugged your panties down below your knees and he gently pushed a finger into you. Your back arched with a moan.

"That's right. Just like that baby." He whispered in your ear.

His finger pumped in and out of you, curling deliciously to hit that sweet spot. He added a second finger and you felt like you were going to lose your mind.

You moaned his name over and over as he pushed you closer and closer to your high. His pace was steady and strong, he knew exactly how to please you.

"Good girl. You're doing so well for me doll. Look at the way you take me." He groaned into your ear.

He reveled in the way you moaned his name and ground yourself against his hand. He was enamored with the way you clenched around him, the way your back arched, the way your lips moved as you gasped out his name. All of it drew him in.

He dragged his fingers in and out of you, curling them at every push in. It didn't take long before you were crying out his name, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He kept going until you'd completely finished, kissing you softly when you fell limp. He released your pinned wrists and gently pulled his fingers from you and held them to your lips.

"Clean the mess you made." He purred.

Obediently you opened your mouth to suck his fingers clean, your tongue swirling around the smooth metal. His breathing grew a little heavier at the sight.

"That's a good girl." He murmured, his eyes fully focused on your lips wrapped around his fingers.

When you finally released them he leaned down to kiss you again, it was soft and sweet.

One arm settled above your head to prop himself up while the other tugged off his clothes. Your hands raised to help him tug his clothes off, then drifted over his skin. He chuckled at that, you were just as dumbstruck as he was when clothes came off.

He rummaged through his bedside table and pulled out a condom, ripping the wrapper open with his teeth and quickly rolling it out.

"You want lube doll?" He asked as he kissed your jaw.

You nodded and he slathered some lube on his cock before gently guiding it into you. You let out a moan as he did, feeling every inch fill you.

"God you take me so well." He groaned.

You whimpered in response, clawing at his back as he started thrusting into you. He gradually picked up his pace, and his hand dipped between your legs to rub your clit.

The sounds of both your moans filled the room. He muttered sweet praises over and over as he fucked you, and all you could do was moan in response.

"Good girl. Thats right. Say my name just like that." He groaned.

You cried out his name as he thrust into you expertly, repeatedly thrusting at that same angle and quickly driving you to another orgasm.

A few more thrusts and you'd snapped, you clenched around him as he fucked you through your orgasm arching into his chest and grabbing at his broad shoulders. After you'd finished he kept going, the overstimulation bringing tears to your eyes.

"I'm almost there baby. Hold on." He kissed your cheek as he kept thrusting into you, bringing himself to his own orgasm.

It didn't take long before his hips started stuttering and he thrust deep into you one last time before releasing into the condom. The two of you lay there panting heavily before he eased himself out of you. He swiftly disposed of the condom and brought you a wet rag to clean yourself up before sliding your underwear on and tugging your shirt down and sliding his own boxers on.

"Ready for that nap doll?" He nuzzled your neck and you nodded.

He gently helped you maneuver under the blankets and pulled you close. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep as he gently grazed his fingers over your back.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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eubybubble · 4 months

Text

slytherin boys after an argument

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

Theodore Nott

Realization hit him hard after a prolonged silence. The air felt thick, and he felt nauseous as he shifted his gaze from a small crack on the wall under his fist to your face. He just swallowed and left the room without a word.

He was terrified of himself, didn't he promise to never raise a hand on loved ones? Technically, he hadn’t, but it was too close. Thoughts flooded his mind as he rushed up the stairs in a desperate attempt to breathe fresh air. It wasn't surprising that he instinctively headed to the Astronomy Tower – your favorite place. Reaching the top, he stood there and retrieved the cigarette pack with trembling fingers. After hesitating, he lit one. Everything seemed to remind him of you. It was never that serious, you just wanted to help him.

Now, he felt like a total fool. Leaning against a wall and sliding down, he pondered over the the relationships. You were too sweet, he couldn't let you suffer near someone like him. With that, he set his mind on ignoring you and breaking up with you because "that'd be better for you." It seemed like you would only agree, he didn't consider any other possible answer.

In the next few days, he deliberately skipped meals and tried to ignore your questioning gaze in halls. However, you heard a slight cough from behind after the lunch.

"May we discuss something?"

"Well, if it isn't Theodore Nott! What—" he didn't let you finish.

"Let's break up." you froze, staring at him in disbelief.

"Nott, are you insane? Didn't you think to ask me?"

"I'm doing it right now."

"Really? It felt more like you just stated a fact and I can only accept it. It was really low of you to avoid me." Your eyes became shiny as tears started to accumulate involuntarily. Theodore noticed it, and despite the cold agenda he planned, he rushed towards you, wiping the tears.

"You wouldn't want to be with me," he mumbled.

"What? We could've talked! We've always talked about how important communication is, but how come we don't practice it? I know you, and I know myself; I wouldn't give up on our relationship that easily. And more than anything, I know that I want to be with you. Why would you do that to me?" you sobbed, clutching onto him as if you were afraid that if he left now, you would never see him again.

"Shush, principessa, I'm so sorry-" he didn't expect such a reaction from you. As you hid your crying face in his chest, his heartbeat only became faster. What an idiot he was for even thinking of such a thing. "I'm so sorry. For everything I've done and said. I'll work to be better for you," he rambled quietly. "Do you trust me? Are you ready to give me another try?" His voice cracked slightly as he asked the last question. You just nodded, and he chuckled at the sight. "Tesoro... I'm so sorry. I promise you it won't happen again." He gave you a forehead kiss, and he really meant it. Even though he didn't say anything about it, he decided to quit smoking. Yes, it won't be easy or a short process, but at least he found a far better addiction - you.

Tom Riddle

From the moment you saw Tom, you thought it could have worked out. At least, you hoped so. It all felt dumb. All those times when your friends told you to break up or said that he didn’t care about you - you refused to believe them. And now, it got you here when the most precious person told you were some troublesome trivia. In the past, you and Tom would at least talk during lunch or sit next to each other in Potions where he patiently helped you, but now, he skipped most lessons, and if he attended one, he’d sit alone. Everyone noticed it, and you became the target of their whispers and snickers. Some even went as far as mocking you in the halls.

“Well, if it isn’t the one Tom Riddle dumped. What, did he finally realize that you’re pathetic?” you tightened your hold on your books and tried to leave hurriedly until the blonde boy from the group shoved you into the wall. “Aren’t we talking to you? Why are you leaving so suddenly?”

It was a pretty loud encounter, so Tom, who was walking nearby, heard it and stopped in his tracks. To tell the truth, he didn’t even want to break up. He invented this silly excuse to protect you because he was afraid of his own actions. He hoped you’d be stubborn and come once again, but you didn’t. That’s when he knew he messed up, but his pride held him back from going to you. And now, someone was bullying his treasure.

But they underestimated your power. You didn’t want it to escalate into violence, but they started it first. With a swift movement of the wand, you threw them off with a big blast. Not even bothering to look behind, you paced up and bumped into someone.

“Oh.” As he put his hands on your shoulders to steady you, he eyed the unconscious group behind. “Using a spell of such power at this hour?” he mumbled nervously.

“Care to explain why you care? Get off, Riddle.” You tried to shove him away, but his grip was strong.

“What’s going on with you? I didn’t even do anything to make you that mad.” You nearly choked at these words.

“Tom.” He hesitated. “Do you think I’m that dumb to fall for your words? Move out of the way.” But he just stood there without a change.

"Don’t leave. I was just... I was afraid I’d hurt you," he whispered as he clutched onto you. "I was afraid of my own plans, of my own thoughts. But please, promise me never to leave, even if I change. I won’t hurt you, just stay by my side. I never expected to fall in love..I had everything planned ahead in a neat way, but you came in like a surprise. Yet, here we are, and it's you. There's no turning back now" You never saw Tom being so vulnerable, and you could do only nod. You cupped his face.

"Hey, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll be here," you softly reassured him, not noticing how easily he drew you right back.

Mattheo Riddle

You had hard time absorbing everything Mattheo said. It was already dark outside, but you didn’t care to turn on the light or illuminate the wand with “Lumos”. You sat on the bed and went through the box with a glossy eyes. You couldn’t believe that he saved every gift, every letter, note - even those that you gave him before dating. Quiet sobs escaped your chest upon finding the promise ring at the very top. Why does it feel so awful when you believed you made the right choice?

As if on cue, your roommate entered the dorm room. "Hey, look what everyone’s talking about in school- oh, are you okay?" She turned on the lights and noticed your teary face. Quickly wiping everything away, you pretended to be busy, gathering everything back into the box. "Yeah, my eyes are sore from reading in the dark," a lame excuse, "what were you gonna tell?"

She knew you disliked having your privacy intruded upon. "So, three students were caught for an outrageous duel and a series of mobbings in Hogsmeade! Surprisingly, it was two Gryffindor students and one Hufflepuff. That fits into the ‘don't judge a book by its cover' narrative. I wonder when the stereotypes about the houses will end. Remember when everyone didn't doubt that it was Slytherin?" she sighed.

As if it weren't enough of a heartbreak, you discovered that everything you had ever suspected Mattheo of was all filthy lies and gossip. Suddenly, you felt dizzy.

You didn’t care about decency or dignity as you rushed to Mattheo’s dorm. He, too, was struggling. Despite everything, he regretted speaking harshly and leaving the memory box. What if you never returned and tossed it away? His heart clenched at the thought.

Feeling too irritated and unwilling to join others in the common room for a card game, he was all alone for now. In futile attempts to fall asleep, he heard a light knock on the door.

"Who’s that?" he groaned, too lazy to open the door.

"Hey, can we talk?" His muscles tensed upon hearing that familiar voice. Rushing to the door, he unlocked it immediately. "Oh, hi," you blushed and stopped mid-sentence, staring at his torso. He glanced down, realizing he forgot to put his shirt on.

"Shit. Sorry, one second," he shut the door in embarrassment and put on a random sweater. "What do you want?" he still held a grudge against you.

"I wanna... apologize. You have every right to shut the door, but I wanted to tell you that our relationship isn’t a joke to me. I love everything about you. I was just so stupid to believe all the gossips floating around Hogwarts, but that doesn’t matter. I came here to tell you how insane you make me feel. I mean, these days when I tried to collect my thoughts and was avoiding you, I was thinking of you non-stop. Mattheo, I’d fight the world to be by your side." As you rambled on and on, his gaze softened, and he pulled you by the waist.

"That’s my girl. I felt terrible when you acted the way you acted, but I hope it won’t be the same in the future?... I also apologize for saying unnecessary things."

"That’s okay, you had every right to be mad. What about I’ll order the food and we’ll watch a movie?"

“Gladly” he was grinning now. It wasn't necessary to tell him that you were also ordering a new broomstick, the perfect one for the perfect boy to make it up. It was the least you could do now. As you scrolled through the list of new films, Mattheo coughed.

"So, uh, can I get my box back, please? You didn’t go through it, right?" a light blush covered his face.

“Actually, I did, Matty. I didn’t know you are so sweet” he groaned at this comment “but I’ll return it to you. Sure.”

Lorenzo Berkshire

The moment Lorenzo received his numerology exam back, he couldn't believe the mark he saw. 70, satisfactory. Many would pray for such a grade, but he had studied and sacrificed too much for this.

As he walked to breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall but couldn't spot you. The previous day's argument flared up in his memory, and he wrinkled his nose as he sat down to eat. As predicted, a white owl sat on his shoulder, delivering a letter with Berkshire's family logo.

He run his eyes over the text. “disgrace..wasting time..bad influence” and blah blah blah. Nothing’s new, except the threat that ordered him not to come home until he got back on the track academically. He's been following his parents' wishes for too long; he was too afraid to ruin the perfect son image that he completely lost hold of his priorities.

Oh, how he wished to be in your embrace now, to listen to your soothing voice and nuzzle up to you in the dark. But he ruined it single-handedly.

He stood up and went to lessons, scratching an apology note for you in the meantime. At DADA, the only class you two took together, he tried to sit next to you and apologize, but that place was taken by a Hufflepuff girl, to which he could only frown. Throughout the lesson, you felt his gaze on you, but never once did you turn your head back at him. If he needed a break that much, he could get one. After all, you got tired of constantly begging him to relax and spend time with you and felt like a total fool.

After the lessons ended, you were the first one to leave the classroom, but he's not an idiot either. You felt someone gently taking hold of your wrists and pushing you into the empty classroom. The door closed behind.

"Can we talk and communicate like grown-ups?" Lorenzo inquired.

"You said everything you wanted last time. I have to go, Hermione's waiting for me in the library," you blatantly lied.

"Oh, really? Because when I last talked to Hermione, she told me she would be with Ron," he calmly stated, stepping closer. "I don't really remember things I've said, but-" You didn't let him finish.

“Enzo, you needed break and I’m giving it to you” his jaws tightened in frustration at your unwavering stance. “You told me I was a burden and you know what? I think you were right because lately, that’s what I felt like in relationships with you. It’s like I’m begging you to spend time with me. Maybe it's best to return to being friends” you mumbled. But he just shook his head, moving nearer once more until he stood right in front of you.

"I'm sorry I made you feel this way. It's not an excuse for my behavior, but I've been stressing about..something," he sighed. "You don't deserve to be treated like that, but trust me, I'll be better." He gently reached out for your arm. "I need just another chance. The only one. I've already written back to my parents, and I hope they will get off my back. I've also told them about us," his voice got quieter. "I hope you won't mind." Your breath hitched. He had always been postponing this, even if you wished for it. There was a minute of silence and apprehension before he wrapped you in a hug. "I hope you can forgive me, sweetheart. How about we go to the cafe you like this weekend?" he mumbled, peppering your face with kisses.

a/n: I apologize if it's not the way you imagined, but hey, I tried my best. Also, I think they were super careful and sweet afterwards!

taglist: @lilanxietysstuff @nopedefe @marina468

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arminsumi · 8 months

Note

requesting the first years witnessing gojo flirt with reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

A/N: i love this idea sm i hope u like how i wrote it 👀💗

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x reader

Summary: Yuji, Nobara and Megumi 'accidentally' overheard you and Gojo flirting in the classroom 👀

Warnings; kinda cheesy/goofy/overdramatic, poor megumi lmfao

Passing down the hall, Yuji heard a murmuring of yours and Gojo’s voices coming from inside a vacant classroom, so he strained his ears to listen.

“I swear, your sweet tooth is insatiable… Gojo, you really should quit sugar.”

“Aw, but how could I possibly give you up?”

Yuji’s face contorted into amusement and disbelief after hearing that little exchange.

“Yuji, what the hell are you doing – ”

He hissed for Nobara to be quiet and come eavesdrop with him. So she did, albeit a bit confused at first, but in a few minutes she and him were stifling their snickering and pressing their cheeks flat to the thin sliding door.

“What did Y/n just say?? MEGUMI! Get over here.” Nobara whisper-shouted and beckoned the ravenette who appeared around the corner.

“Why?”

“JUST COME OVER HERE.”

“For what?!”

Yuji and Nobara practically dragged him over and forced him to join in their eavesdropping. He gives them a confused look but there’s a spark of curiosity in his eyes when he hears the murmur of your voice.

“I’m not your sugar, so stop calling me that – ”

“ – how about I call you my sugarbaby?”

“Satoru!” your giggle came from the other side of the door.

“Ooh, you’re calling my first name now? That’s so indecent.”

“I’m not gonna be your sugarbaby – ”

“ – you don’t want me to be your sugardaddy?!” Gojo acted offended and raised his voice.

Yuji and Nobara were desperately trying to keep it together, but their snickering and giggling kept getting worse until they were besides themselves with laughter – out of breath, seal-sounds and all. Megumi looked absolutely appalled and borderline distraught (he had a boyish crush on you).

“Stop eavesdropping, you three.”

“OH SHIT.” Nobara finally cracked and broke down laughing loudly with Yuji.

Gojo slid the door open with a smack, and they began to scramble immediately. You just peered from behind the desk where you were signing documents.

“W – wheehaha – we heard nothing! I swear!” Yuji promised.

“Sheesh, I didn’t think anyone in this world would be attracted to the likes of Gojo. Y/n, you can do better.” Nobara muttered.

“I – the audacity, I’m standing right here. Nobara, expect a forehead flick later.”

The three of them tumbled out of the halls and discussed you and Gojo like a hot topic.

“D’you think they’re like… actually dating?!” Yuji asked incredulously, standing on the last step of the stairs.

“Probably.” Nobara shrugged.

“Ugh…”

“Cheer up, Megumi. It’s not the end of the world.” Yuji chuckled.

Megumi just pouted and sat on the stairs, spreading his legs out and looking up at the sky very melancholically. He was so dramatic that the other two just laughed.

“D’you think they actually went on a date last weekend?” Yuji pondered.

“Ohhh… yeah, that’s probably what that was all about.”

“Gross!” Megumi whined.

“Megumi I’ve never seen you so jealous before.”

“What the hell, I’m not jealous!” he denounced.

Gojo came out to meet those three at the base of the stairs at just the right moment.

“You always say that you’re gonna marry Y/n when you grow up.” Yuji said.

“NO I DON’T? YOU’RE TWISTING MY WORDS, YUJI.”

Gojo placed a big hand on his head and gave him the fright of his life. He groaned when he realized you two just heard everything. Yuji and Nobara lost it laughing again.

“Sorry to steal your future wife.” He joked.

“BRO WHAT THE HELL – YUJI’S JUST JOKING!” Megumi’s cheeks reddened.

You walked out next, just the sight of you threw Nobara and Yuji right back into a fit of laughter that they were just struggling to get out of.

“Megumi, what’s the matter?” you asked.

“Nothing, I’m good – YUJI SHUT UP!”

He tackled Yuji right as he opened his mouth to say something. “Nobara – don’t – you – dare.”

“Hey future wife.” Gojo greeted you cheekily. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey future ex-husband.” You responded.

Megumi looked so comically distraught, the other two were howling. Gojo just smirked and sunk his hands into his pockets.

“You two, why is Megumi distraught?” you asked them suspiciously.

“He has a crush on you.” Nobara said.

Megumi went fully red. He looked as if he was contemplating summoning Shikigami on Nobara. Before he even checked your reaction or paid attention to his other teacher’s stifled giggles, he went rigid and stiffly walked away.

“So future wife… about that date.” Gojo said rather loudly.

“I KNEW IT!” Yuji hollered. Him and Nobara went off again, Megumi let out the most dramatic groan you’ve ever heard.

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norrizzandpia · 2 months

Note

oscar piastri after care

Someone tell me why i have NOT written for op in like YEARS? Guys its a crime

One Lucky Man (OP81)

Summary: After care with OP!

Warnings: insinuations of sex obvi, language, Oscar being lewd

Oscar’s chest heaved up and down as he flopped to the side of Y/n’s body. There was a flush to their faces and sweat clinging to their skin as they turned their heads, smiling softly at each other in the post-sex haze.

“I’d give that a solid 10 out of 10,” Oscar stated, a smirk on his face as he leaned over the mattress and picked his boxers up off the floor, slipping into them and sliding off the bed.

Y/n giggled, “Did you just rate the sex we just had?”

Oscar nodded triumphantly, “Yes, of course, I did. Gotta give credit where credit’s due.”

Y/n, jaw open, scoffed, “I assume you’re referring to crediting yourself.”

His feet stopped him just as he was about to step fully out of the room. He turned around and caught her gaze with a mischievous glint in his, “I did make you come like five times.”

Y/n wasn’t given a chance to respond, Oscar having run down the hall and away from her the moment the sentence left his mouth. She rolled her eyes at his attitude, not genuinely upset seeing as he did make her come five times. When he returned only a few minutes later, in his grasp a granola bar and water, he helped her off the bed.

“Why are you making me leave the cozy bed?” She gave, her hand clutching his as the soreness in her legs threatened a fall to the floor.

He chuckled with a shake of his head, “You have to go to the bathroom, Y/n. Come on, we’re responsible adults, right? Practicing healthy and safe sex, right?”

Y/n grimaced, “Oscar, stop talking like you’re some well educated physician. It’s freaking me out. Plus, we are very much not responsible adults. You just tried to hijack Lando’s car last night and almost crashed it into a pole because you got too excited and hit the gas pedal too hard.”

At the mention of their chaotic dinner with Lando the night before, Oscar let out a guttural laugh. He helped his girlfriend into the bathroom before closing the door, the sound of his chuckles being heard even on the other side of the door.

When she was finished and opened the door back up, Oscar pulled her into his arms again. He laid a kiss in her hair as he dragged her back to bed. Falling onto the heap of blankets, he practically forced the snack and water down her throat.

“Oscar! Oscar! I’m eating it, goddamn.” She laughed as he shoved it into her hand, wrapper somewhere on the floor from when he’d thrown it over his shoulder.

He smiled widely as she chewed, feeling uneasy as he stared at her eating a random granola bar. They passed the water to each other between sips, kisses being shared in the midst of it all as Oscar sidled up next to her.

He lightly pushed her back down to a lying position, tugging her into his side before pulling the comforter over them. Her head stuffed into the crook of his neck, Oscar laid kisses in her hair. His hands ran up and down her back as he started mindlessly talking to her, “Do you know how beautiful you are? I mean, seriously, when I first introduced you to Lando, he pulled me aside and asked how I had managed to even get your number in the first place. It’s cheesy and you’ve probably heard it from guys millions of times before, but I genuinely don’t think I have seen anyone more beautiful than you. I don’t even think words can describe how beautiful I think you are.”

He felt warmth against his neck. He smiled at the blushing she was enduring in the midst of his words, “I don’t care how many times you try to argue me on this. I will never let you win. You’re just… I don’t know. I just love you a lot.”

Y/n pecked his neck in a kiss, “I love you too.”

Oscar shook his head, “Nah, nah, nah, but I love you more.”

Y/n scoffed, “Oscar, no-”

Oscar interrupted her, “No fucking way, Y/n. I love you more. End of discussion. There is absolutely no way anyone could love anything more than I love you.”

She shrugged, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.”

“You help me sleep at night,” He murmured, another kiss to her hairline. She moved away from his body just enough to stare up at him.

She smiled, “You’re a great boyfriend, you know?”

Now was his turn to blush, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re just, like, a goddess, so you just deserve it.”

Y/n laughed, “Osc, I’m not a goddess, but thanks.”

He kissed her sweetly, “Sure, tell that to the millions of people online who continuously ask how you ended up with me. I’m one lucky man and everyone knows it.”

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #mclaren formula 1

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anto-pops · 1 year

Text

Fissured Composure - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: After watching you hold your own against a handsy classmate, Sebastian is feeling particularly needy and steals you away to the Undercroft to show you just how worked up your right hook got him.

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian reverently going down on you after you break Leander's nose

Based on this request I received! Hope you like it anon :))

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor violence, explicit sexual content, rough sex

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 as always !

Many of your friends would agree that you had the patience of a damn Saint.

Beyond dealing with Sebastian’s hard-headedness on a regular basis and keeping up appearances with your classmates, it was a wonder you had managed to maintain your cool, collected facade for so long. You could recall losing it once before, shortly after Professor Fig died. But the whole debacle had gone down in the safety and privacy of the Room of Requirement, so no one had been around to witness your indignant anger take root and assist you in trashing two thirds of your sacred space.

That had been two years ago, so you liked to think you’d gotten better at controlling your emotions since then.

Leander fucking Prewett, however, had seemingly made it his life’s mission to frustrate you to no foreseeable end.

While you had felt bad for him in your fifth-year and entertained his rambling mostly out of pity, somewhere along the way your lack of interest got lost in translation. He was a rather boastful individual, preferring to brag about himself and put down anyone that excelled in areas he wanted to be the best in. His attitude had only worsened with age, and for the last few months he had suddenly taken to attempting to woo you in passing.

His efforts were too pathetic to take to heart, but you certainly hadn’t told Sebastian about it yet. Not unless you wanted to trigger a fight that you knew you wouldn’t be able to intervene in, because the whole reason Leander was even trying with you was to get under your boyfriend’s skin.

Today was Wednesday, and you shared Herbology class with Leander, much to your displeasure. Your attempts at escaping out the door quickly had been thwarted when Professor Garlick asked to speak with you after class, and despite hoping against all odds that you would be left alone, Prewett was waiting for you at the top of the steps when you ascended the staircase.

“Ah, there you are,” he drawled, with far too much familiarity for your liking. “Did Professor Garlick hold you back to scold you for something?”

You grasped at the fringes of your self-restraint with everything in you. “No, we were just discussing some extra assignments she gave me last week.”

Wanting to leave the interaction at that, you picked up your pace and strode past him, eager to meet up with Sebastian and Ominis for lunch. At the very least, Sebastian’s presence would act as a safeguard against Leander’s incessant pestering. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor had no qualms about lengthening his stride to match your own, and he fell annoyingly into step beside you.

He raked one of his hands through his long strands of red hair, trying and failing to raise a brow at you questioningly. Instead he just looked constipated. “Wow, extra assignments? You must be some child genius turned prodigy, I can’t think of anyone who willingly says yes to more homework.”

“...I’ve been doing it for two years, Leander.”

Waving you off, he pressed on, “Then you’re way smarter than you let on.” What? “Not that I’ve heard otherwise from anyone, but someone as bright as you likely values intellect and wit, and I can’t help but notice Sebastian is in short supply of both these days–”

“Leander, now really isn’t the time.” Not this shit again. You pushed through the double doors leading to Central Hall, desperate to put your two Slytherin companions in between yourself the daft idiot tailing you.

“Oh, come on. I’m only suggesting we take some time to study together. Or maybe we could take a stroll through the Library since you’re so fond of books. Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for sneaking into the Restricted Section, although sometimes I wonder how much reading you actually do when you disappear there with Sallow.”

By now you had made it beside the fountain in the middle of the room, but your legs halted entirely when you registered the implication hidden in his words. One of your nails broke as you dug your fingers into the cover of your textbook, and you willed the thrum of your blood roaring in your ears to lessen as you finally pivoted to face Leander fully.

Your expression was stormy when you fixed your eyes on his beady ones, and you allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the nervous bob of his throat. “What is it you think I do then, Leander? What vapid, tasteless thoughts do you have whipping around in that giant head of yours, hm?”

At least he had the good sense to look sheepish, but he masked the look quickly with that false bravado that made your hands twitch. He raised his arms in a gesture of surrender, “Relax, doll. I’m just connecting the dots out loud. What does your prized boytoy tempt you with to convince you to break the rules so often?”

Merlin’s bloody balls, if you didn’t leave now, you were going to lose it in the middle of the school. There was no hiding your blatant scowl of disgust, but you found the frayed tethers of your composure and grabbed the ends like a lifeline. You pulled a deep breath into your lungs, exhaling in a way that conveyed your thinning temper, and turned to walk away.

You saw Sebastian standing on the other side of Central Hall talking to Garreth, and he was spying over the redhead’s shoulder to watch you. His face was contorted into a dark, threatening expression, and you knew he could read your own emotions plainly on your face. He was well aware that you were pissed off, and he jumped into action then, muttering something to Weasley under his breath before he was striding across the foyer to get to you.

You’d made it roughly three steps away from Leander when you suddenly felt his slimy hand slithering around your waist to haul you back against his chest. The brazen action took you by surprise, which was the only reason the bastard succeeded in squeezing the curve of your hip so generously. The feeling had you tensing all over, and you dimly registered Sebastian’s murderous expression nearing the opposite side of the fountain before your own anger took root.

“What, you’re not even going to dignify me with a response? That’s awfully cruel–”

A faceful of your fist cut him off mid sentence, and you watched through your narrowed eyes as Leander’s head flew back, his momentum carrying him to the ground in a sprawled, limp heap. You heard a series of gasps erupt from the students that were seated nearby, but you didn’t care. It took you a second to process the scene as you blinked the rage from your mind, but once you had, you were pleased to find Prewett’s nose hugging his cheek at a very broken angle.

“There’s your response, you prick,” you swore at him, bending down to snatch up your Herbology textbook that had fallen from your grip. Your knuckles throbbed from the impact still, but you simply flexed your fingers and shook the pain away. It felt good to get that out of your system, and entirely worth the bruises you would surely be sporting in the morning. “Do yourself a favor and stay the hell away from me, or I’ll be happy to show you exactly what I’ve learned from the books in the Restricted Section.”

As soon as you moved away from Leander, a group of younger students were flocking to his side, wisely giving you a wide berth as you left. Sebastian was frozen still as a statue on the other side of the fountain, looking at you slack-jawed with admiration twinkling in his dark eyes. You smiled softly at him, the look so at odds with the feral energy you had just exhibited twenty seconds prior.

“I– what the bloody hell was that?” Sebastian asked at the same time you circled your arm around his waist to lead him away from the bleeding Gryffindor.

“It was well deserved, that’s what it was,” you replied evenly, and then you felt Sebastian’s fingertips digging into the small of your back. “Don’t worry about it, please. He won’t bother me anymore, that’s for damn sure.”

Sebastian’s laugh sounded breathless, and he shook his head in disbelief, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. “Oh I’ll definitely be needing the backstory to that whole altercation at some point, but I’m more hung up on the fact that you actually punched somebody. You never get physical like that, where in Merlin’s name did that come from?”

You’d been leading Sebastian towards the Great Hall, having had your mind set on lunch for the better part of a half hour. But then you felt Sebastian take control of steering, and instead of turning down the corridor that led to your destination, he instead appeared to be guiding you in the direction of the Dark Arts Tower. “You’re acting like it’s unheard of for someone to lose their temper. In case you forgot, Prewett is particularly insufferable. Today he crossed one too many lines, so I reeducated him. End of story.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Sebastian murmured as you came up the staircase leading to a familiar alcove, and things suddenly started to click into place. “That was quite possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever done.”

All the blood in your body seemed to flood into your cheeks then. Sebastian gazed down at you hungrily, whipping his wand out briefly to unlock the latch concealing the entryway behind the large clock. It opened with a clang, and before you could formulate a response to his statement, he was gently pushing you through the opening ahead of him.

While the two of you descended the narrow stairwell leading into the Undercroft, Sebastian replayed the glorious sight of your wicked right hook in his mind. He didn’t know what the hell Leander had been whispering to you about, but the look on your face had told him it wasn’t anything pleasant. Being the chivalrous and overprotective boyfriend he was, of course he’d bailed on his conversation with Garreth to step in.

Watching Prewett’s offensive appendage coil around your waist had sealed the deal, however; Sebastian had fully intended on sending the Gryffindor into an early grave. But then you’d dropped your items and spun around so fast– your textbook was still falling when your fist connected with his nose. It wasn’t the most tactful means of defense for a lot of people. After all, in a world of magic, who the hell bothered with brawling? There was no denying the appeal of it though. It was a more personal way of telling someone to go fuck themselves, and watching you set your boundries in such a way had driven Sebastian’s blood supply straight to his cock.

He liked this unrestrained side of you. He was desperate to see more of it.

Once you were past the threshold of the gate, you stopped to turn to Sebastian, ready to clarify that seriously– was he this affected by you throwing a punch? But then his larger body slammed against you, stealing the words from your throat as he captured your lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, and you were manhandled into his arms so he could walk the two of you over to the lounge stuffed away in the corner of the room.

As soon as your ass made contact with the velvet cushions, Sebastian broke away so his hands could get to work on hauling your skirt down your legs. The ferocity of the movement nearly sent you flying to the floor with the attire, but then the freckled man was moving back into your personal space so abruptly, your teeth knocked together before he began biting and sucking at your bottom lip.

“Fuck– Sebastian, what the hell’s gotten into you?” The pain from his ministrations quickly blurred together with the unmistakable arousal pooling between your legs, and when he pressed the pad of his thumb roughly against your clit through your soaked undergarments, he swallowed your shaky moans with a nefarious kiss.

“I have to have you,” Sebastian murmured as his hands came up to remove your blouse, exerting a smidge more self-control than he did with your skirt so he didn’t render your uniform unusable afterwards. There was still the matter of school technically being in session, but after watching Leander put his hands on you, Sebastian was feeling especially possessive, and seeing you lay the brute out like it was nothing made his thirst for you seem borderline unquenchable. He asked hurriedly, “Merlin’s balls, let me eat you out– please?”

You shivered as he undid the last button on your shirt and slipped the material over your shoulders, tossing it to the stone floor alongside the rest of your clothes. Having long since given up on wearing your bras after Sebastian ripped the straps of your last two, you were completely bare– an open invitation for him to begin kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples hard enough to make you arch into his touch.

He took full advantage of your close proximity and latched his lips over your thundering pulse, sinking his teeth into the skin to work a mark there, and you nodded shamelessly when you felt his fingers slip beneath your underwear.

“O-Okay. Alright– fine, but take this off,” your hands tugged at the collar of his shirt, ardently conveying that if you were going to let him satiate himself, the least he could do was let you look at him.

Sebastian was obliging you in a heartbeat, pulling away from your spread legs to wriggle his tie loose. It hung messily around his neck– just enough for him to swiftly begin undoing his button up– and the entire time he worked to shed the clothing, his dark, penetrating gaze never left your flushed body. Once the front of his shirt fell open and he’d discarded it, you were met with the tantalizing sight of Sebastian’s toned, freckled chest. The mouth watering trail of hair running below his navel paved a path to the tenting fabric of his trousers, and as soon as Sebastian caught you staring, his brown eyes were darkening impossibly further.

Prowling forward with feline grace, Sebastian smirked as he lifted his tie off of his shoulders to drape over your head. He didn’t bother tightening it, instead letting it hang in a disheveled heap between your breasts, and the sight did more for him than he cared to admit, his cock straining uncomfortably in his trousers. But right now wasn’t about him– not really– it was about you, and Sebastian’s reverent need to please you.

“Hold that for me,” he purred down at you before he was dropping to his knees in front of you.

A brilliant flush swept up your torso as his warm, broad hands came to finally slip your drenched panties away from your aching heat, gliding the material down your outstretched legs without tearing his eyes away from you. Goosebumps broke out all over your skin when the chill of the Undercroft passed over you, and your breath caught in your throat when he eagerly licked his lips and sidled up to the edge of the couch.

Sebastian looped his arms under your thighs, tugging you closer to him so that your ass dangled precariously off the cushions, causing you to shiver under his unyielding stare. He nudged your legs up onto his shoulders, casting a mischievous look your way before he was nuzzling his face into the sensitive skin of your legs, and the adoring kisses he peppered up the apex of your thighs had your stomach tensing in anticipation.

“Do you think we could try sparring one day?” Sebastian asked randomly, teasing his fingers closer to your dripping folds before pulling them away entirely. The dejected sigh that slipped from your lips made him chuckle darkly, and you narrowed your eyes at him as his question finally processed.

“Sparring? What the hell for?”

He shrugged, jostling your raised legs as his fingers dug firmly into your hips for a modicum of restraint. “I think I’d enjoy getting thrown around by you. Do you think you could?”

Merlin– he had officially lost his mind. “Maybe? I wouldn’t want to hurt you, though.”

Something wild sparked behind his irises then, and he began placing lingering kisses in the hollow of your leg. “I would love it if you did,” another soft press of his lips, this time right beside your aching center. “Seriously, when we do, promise me you won’t hold back.”

“You’re actually insane,” you wheezed out as his next kiss fell directly against your clit, and your nails dug fitfully into the padding of the lounge at the featherlight feeling.

“Only for you, darling.” Sebastian’s grip on your hips tightened as he mercifully sealed his mouth over your cunt, and your head kicked back against the sofa with an audible whack as your shrill voice suddenly echoed off the walls of the cavernous room. Your next breath was stolen from you as you felt Sebastian’s tongue circle over your clit, pressing and dragging the muscle down your heat to lap up as much of you as you could– and you swore you’d never been so wet in your fucking life.

By some miracle, you didn’t pass out from the overwhelming bliss, but you sure as hell saw stars dancing in the corners of your vision when Sebastian tongued at your tight entrance. The sordid sounds coming from the brunet between your legs was enough to have you clenching your thighs on either side of his head, and the blatantly aroused groan it pulled from his throat reverberated against you perfectly.

“Fuck, Sebastian,” you whimpered, snapping your hands up from the seat to fist in his curly, brown locs, and when you pulled him against you harder, he moaned at the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp. He switched tactics then, shaking his head from side to side softly to rub his lips sinfully over your bundle of nerves. The friction was dizzying, and you brazenly bucked your hips against his chin to chase your steadily mounting pleasure. “Merlin–”

Sebastian was utterly transfixed by you. Through hooded eyes, he watched rapaciously as you crumbled above him; your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and the ever darkening flush that decorated your skin made the green of his tie around your neck stand out even more, acting like a proprietary flag that claimed you as his. You cracked open your eyes to stare down at him, and your stomach flipped at his unbridled, lust-filled gaze boring into you.

Sitting forward more, Sebastian wound one of his arms over the angular curve of your hip bones, simultaneously pressing you harder into him while preventing you from shifting around. He mouthed sloppily against you, and you were left to balance your leg over his shoulder when he dropped his other hand to begin teasing at your soaked hole. He pressed the tip of his finger in slowly before withdrawing it completely, and he repeated the same motion a few more times until you were on the verge of tearing a fistfull of his hair out.

A keening sound ripped from your chest when he removed the digit slower than before, and you could feel Sebastian smirk against you. “S-Stop teasing,” you stuttered, your voice strained and airy.

Sebastian pulled away with a conniving chuckle, and the sight of your slick coating the entirety of his lower face damn near killed you on the spot. “I’m trying to take my time here– you taste so fucking sweet.”

His finger was back, sliding into you once again– only this time he spared you further torment by burying the appendage inside of you to the knuckle and curling it deliciously upwards. You gasped, arching off the back of the lounge in some vain attempt to feel more of him, but his strength pressing into your hips held you firmly in place, and a legitimate whine tumbled from your swollen lips.

He set an achingly slow pace, focusing more on wiggling his finger inside of you before pulling it back to thrust in again, and your throaty groan was cut short when Sebastian’s mouth reappeared on your cunt. He lapped at you furiously, working your brain into a tizzy with the rapid flicks of his tongue against your clit, and the cord in your gut was wrought tight as your climax roared to life in the far reaches of your mind. The wanton moans that slipped from Sebastian were electrifying, and the intensity of his ministrations increased when he added a second finger to the mix. Any pain or discomfort was nonexistent; all you could focus on was the sheer exhilaration his efforts brought you, and your hands tightened in his hair to silently warn him that you were close.

Leaning sideways for a better angle, Sebastian rolled his head against your inner thigh to peer up at you. Once your glazed over eyes landed on him, he let his mouth hang open in an obscene manner to lewdly flick his tongue over your nub at the same time he stroked your inner walls, and that was as much as you could take before you were crying out for Sebastian loud. Your orgasm hit you with the force of a train, stealing your breath and making your muscles tense so hard that your boyfriend’s face was effectively crushed between your trembling legs.

Sebastian took everything that you inflicted upon him in stride; the stinging drag of your nails through his hair, as well as the suffocating squeeze of your thighs on either side of his head. He relished in it– and he positively lived for how he could make you fall apart in such a way. His cock concurred with his thoughts, twitching enthusiastically against the confines of his trousers.

The freckled, Adonis incarnate before you rose to his full height after you had the good grace to release him from the stifling confines of your legs, groaning softly when his fingers slipped out of you. Sebastian regarded you with a predatory look that promised more, and you swallowed thickly as you watched his hands languidly work to undo the catch of his pants.

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Sebastian’s brows pinched together with blatant need as he scanned your prone form against the sofa. “Fuck, do you have any idea what you do to me?” His imposing stature over you– shirtless and flushed, with his chest rising and falling from the strained breaths he pulled into his lungs– it had your heart hammering wildly against your sternum. You shook your head. “Then I’ll show you,” he vowed, and the timbre to his voice seemed to reignite the fire burning in your veins.

Working quickly, Sebastian shoved his trousers down to his thighs, pulling himself out of his briefs with a needy groan. He gave himself a few testing pumps, tipping his head back slightly when his fist squeezed around the bright red tip, and then he was zeroing in on you like you were the only thing in the room he cared to pay attention to. You were still quivering in your spot on the lounge when Sebastian stepped forward, hauling you upright by the tie around your bare neck to spin you around so you were kneeling on the cushions with your front pressed into the backrest of the couch.

It took everything in you not to sink back down on your wobbly legs, but then you felt Sebastian’s hands running down your back towards the shapely curve of your ass, and he squeezed at the skin there greedily before lining himself up with your spit-slick cunt. Far too eager to feel his cock inside of you, you watched over your shoulder as Sebastian gingerly pressed into you with a low, raspy moan, and your fingers dug into the backrest so hard, your knuckles blanched white.

Despite his urgency, Sebastian took his time rocking his hips into you, drinking in your sweet little sounds as he filled you up and slid home. “Fuck,” he breathed, leaning forward to rest his head between your shoulder blades as he buried himself to the hilt. His hands moved from your ass to your waist, holding you still with bruising strength as he got used to the sensation of your hypersensitive walls contracting around him. Your breaths were coming out fast and shallow, completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of him compared to his fingers. Having already come, you were like putty in Sebastian’s hands as he ground his cock into you firmly, and you felt him twitch inside you when your head fell forward against the upholstery of the seat with a gasp. “Fuck– you’re so wet still– feels so fucking perfect.”

When Sebastian pulled back to torturously thrust into you slowly, your hips rocked in tandem against him, and he redirected his eyes up from where the two of you were connected so he could drink in the expression on your face. Your lips were parted around a choked moan as he moved inside of you, those beautiful, luminescent eyes of yours sparkling with rampant affection and arousal, and his tie swayed around your neck in sync with his movements.

Sebastian hunched forward, lifting one of his hands to rake through your disheveled hair and pull your head back towards his shoulder, and you cried out suddenly before the sound transformed into a filthy moan that only served to spur Sebastian forward faster. His hold on you was unrelenting, effectively bending you backwards against his sweaty chest as he increased his pace and began spearing his cock into you with brutal efficiency.

It didn’t take long for him to start hitting the deepest parts of you, the thick head of his shaft curving up to graze deliciously over your sweet spot with every rough thrust. Your eyes rolled back in your skull, shameless noises spilling from your lips as Sebastian folded you backwards onto his cock to satiate himself. That familiar feeling blossomed low in your gut, and one of your hands flew back to dig your nails into the bare skin of Sebastian’s thigh behind you.

“Fuck, fuck, Sebastian–” your warbled voice was like music to his ears, pulling the corners of his mouth up into a devilish smile. His next thrust was particularly forceful, and the incriminating sound of skin slapping against skin filled the Undercroft, seemingly harmonizing with the cacophony of noises that the two of you created together. “Merlin–”

Sebastian growled, releasing your hair to trail his hand across your front and curl around your throat. He tightened his hold there, squeezing just enough so that your walls clenched around his cock as he upped his tempo. You were completely enveloped by him, held fast to his damp chest as he ruthlessly pounded into you, and the lack of oxygen to your brain numbed everything else as your second orgasm loomed threateningly overhead.

Overcome with telltale urgency, Sebastian chased his own pleasure desperately, bucking his cock deep into your clenching heat, wringing choked gasps and stuttered cries of his name from your open mouth, and he was fucking dizzy from how good it felt to be pressed against you, holding you tight in his arms. Sebastian tugged you closer to him to latch his lips over the sweaty skin below your ear, biting and sucking a mark there as he propelled his hips upwards inside of you.

There really wasn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from frantically rutting back in search of that building euphoria. You rode back onto Sebastian with as much give as you were allowed, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure and your thighs shaking from how good Sebastian was fucking you, filling you up deep and hard and fast, just how you liked it. The way he slammed you back down onto his rough thrusts by your throat only added fuel to the fire, leaving you a sloppy, gasping, pleading mess in his arms.

Sebastian released his ironclad grip around your waist to snake his hand lower to your sensitive clit, and your head fell back against his shoulder as he started rubbing firm circles over the overstimulated nub. Your voice strained against his uncompromising hold on your throat, “Fuck– Sebastian, please–”

“Come, darling, come on my cock. Let me hear your pretty noises, I’m so close,” he muttered the command against the shell of your ear, railing his cock into you so fast and so harshly, you had no choice but to oblige him.

Sebastian watched as you crumbled against him for the second time, utterly in love with the way your spine rounded as you sank into him, every part of your body trembling. Your walls tightened impossibly further around him, causing him to gasp into the crook of your neck, and Sebastian slammed his cock into your incredible cunt— nearly mindless from how you shook against him— and he fucked you clean through your orgasm until your sounds and body yanked him right over the edge with you. His dark eyes rolled shut, growling your name through his clenched teeth as his pace faltered before he was burying himself deep in you with a heady gasp.

The feeling of Sebastian emptying inside of you rendered you boneless, leaving your boyfriend with the task of keeping you upright as he ground his hips against your ass, milking himself dry with broken whimpers before halting his movements entirely. His hold around your throat loosened, and the rush of blood returning to your brain was akin to pure bliss alongside the remnants of your climax.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned after a few heated seconds, relaxing his grip on you so that he could slide himself out before gingerly lowering the two of you down onto the cushions together. Your hands slipped from the back of the couch and fell into your lap as Sebastian maneuvered you into a sitting position, your body too limp to even bother moving yourself. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a nonplussed blink as you willed your brain to function properly again, and then you nodded shakily. “Shit, yeah. I had no idea your bloodlust would turn you into such a lunatic, though,” you muttered, and Sebastian’s bellowing laugh roused you further from your post-coital state.

“It’s not bloodlust, darling. It’s you,” he countered easily, a smug smile playing on his freckled lips. He tucked his softening cock back into his briefs and tugged his pants back up over his hips before moving away from you to retrieve the scattered pieces of your uniform. When he reappeared with the ball of clothing, you took it graciously, staying seated on the couch as you worked your underwear up your unsteady legs. “I was serious about the sparring thing, too. I think it would be fun watching you let loose.”

You shot him a hesitant look, not particularly keen on his eagerness to get bloodied up at your hands, but his excitement at the thought was palpable, and you found yourself relenting to his ludicrous idea with a sigh after a few beats of silence. “Fine,” you conceded. “But only once. I don’t care how horny it makes you– I don’t like the thought of hurting you, no matter how easy it is to fix broken bones here.”

He had bent down to snatch his button up off the floor, but paused on his way up to glance at you with a pleased expression on his face. The shirt was momentarily forgotten as Sebastian fell to his knees once again, only this time it was to cradle your face in his warm hands and pull you in for a toe curling kiss. His thumbs traced along your cheekbones as his tongue delved deep in your mouth, and you sighed contentedly. The gentleness that always followed these heated moments between the two of you was, without a doubt, one of your favorite things.

Sebastian broke away to pepper a quick succession of lighter kisses all over your face, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his reverence. “Hell yes, whatever you want. I’ll do it wearing a damn ball gown if that’s what it takes.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re barking mad?”

He smirked, far too pleased to be hearing you say so. “From time to time, yes. Don’t lie, you love it.”

Your eyes twinkled with amusement, and fighting your smile proved to be easier said than done. “I love you. Your crazy ideas, however, I take with a grain of salt.”

From there, he stood fully to throw his shirt over his shoulders, and you mirrored his actions, redressing yourself as quickly as your shaky legs would allow. Once finished, you slipped Sebastian’s tie off of your neck, draping it over his shoulders with a coy smile, and you felt his arm coil around your waist to tug you flush against his front, stealing your lips in another steamy, doting kiss. You returned the gesture with equal fervor, rising to your tip-toes to trail your hands up into his hair to scratch shiver-inducing stripes down the nape of his neck.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before the screeching gears of the metal gate drew your attention, and you pulled apart at the same time Ominis strode into the Undercroft. His face was contorted in concentration, his wand sweeping across the room until he seemed to sense that yes, his two best friends had indeed abandoned him in the Great Hall to disappear into their shared space.

“Where the hell have you two been?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm that you were truly there. His outstretched wand pointed towards you both as he made his way to the back of the room. “I thought we were meeting for lunch, I’ve been entertaining idle gossip for the better part of a half hour. What is it that I keep hearing about Leander getting punched in the face?”

At that, you stepped away from Sebastian, adjusting your skirt slightly before bashfully rubbing the back of your neck. “Ah, yeah. That was me,” you confessed. “Word travels fast. What exactly is being said?”

Ominis cocked a brow at you as he came to halt a few feet away, a strange look passing over his features as his wand pulsed in your direction. “Rumor has it you broke his nose. Please tell me this isn’t going to become a regular occurrence– I can hardly keep up with Sebastian coming to blows with students as it is.”

“It won’t, don’t worry. I doubt he’ll even come around me anymore after this.”

Sebastian snickered under his breath, eyeing you with a proud look that reminded you of your recent escapades, and you blushed under his knowing stare. “If Leander knows what’s good for him, he won’t so much as glance in your direction for the rest of the year. But on that note, I’m famished. Anyone up for food?”

“I’ve been ‘up for food’ for thirty minutes,” Ominis muttered as he turned on his heel to head for the gate. The three of you fell into step alongside one another, Sebastian’s hand brushing against yours as you walked towards the exit, but then Ominis was pausing mid step, tilting his head up to… sniff the air? How odd. “Merlin’s beard, it smells like sex in here.”

You snatched your hand away from Sebastian’s to slap your palms over your eyes in embarrassment, every ounce of blood in your body rushing to your head and heating your cheeks as you willed the floor to open up underfoot and swallow you whole. Your boyfriend, however, only laughed.

“We had to work up an appetite before finding you,” Sebastian mused, unashamed at having been caught by the blond man. “Sorry, Ominis. I’ll send an owl next time.”

“Please stop fucking in the Undercroft. I’m too scared to sit down here anymore– I can’t tell whether I’m avoiding your cum stains or not.”

“You’ll want to steer clear of the lounge for the foreseeable future, then.” Sebastian fired back instantly, not a lick of chagrin to be detected in his voice. “That’s a mess you’ll want to avoid.”

“Please stop talking,” you grit through your teeth, and the coquettish expression on the brunet’s face warranted a sharp look from you. “Or I can’t promise I won’t punch you in the face next.”

“Didn’t we just establish that I want you to go that route? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Ominis threw his hands up in utter exasperation, shaking his head in disbelief at Sebastian’s gall before damn near sprinting to leave the Undercroft, and the two of you were forced to skip after him as he ascended the staircase to head for the Great Hall. Even after sitting down and piling food on his plate, Sebastian continued to oggle you from his seat across the table. Every so often you would feel his foot nudge your calf, trailing the appendage up your leg to play with the hem of your skirt.

Despite your earlier mortification, he did a stellar job of brightening your mood, and when Ominis groused over his mug that the two of you should just get fucking married already, Sebastian looked at you wonderstruck, and he seemed to seriously consider it.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic #ominis gaunt #leander prewett #sebastian sallow smut #my writing #probably counter productive to post this at 1am but I don't wanna look at it anymore

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natsaffection · 3 months

Note

do you think you could write a second part to the coach fic where during practice natasha convinces reader to sneak off with her and reader gives her a blow job :))

Reward Pt. 2 | N.R

MINORS DNI 18+!

Warnings: G!P Natasha (32), kinda manipulative, blow job

Word count: 870 words

A/n: first time writing a blowjob 🫠

Part 1

The training session was in full swing and the rhythmic sound of sneakers on the pitch provided a familiar backdrop. Concentrated and motivated, the team went through exercises and games under Natasha's watchful eye. Unbeknownst to the rest of the players, there was a secret connection beneath the surface.

Moving through the training routine with precision, you couldn't lose Natasha's gaze. Natasha, standing on the sidelines, had her usual stoic expression, but her eyes told a different story. A subtle grin played on her lips as she watched your maneuvers.

As you dribbled the ball, you felt Natasha's gaze intensify, a gaze that seemed to bear the weight of your secret connection. After a while, Natasha gathered the team together to discuss the nuances of a particular move, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing glint. Unaware of the hidden dynamics, the rest of the team listened intently as Natasha explained the intricacies of executing a perfect rondo.

“Well, team, the Rondo is a crucial move that can surprise the opponents,” Natasha explained, turning her gaze back to you. “Y/n, you’re at the center, orchestrating the moves. It’s all about precision and quick decisions.”

But you hesitate. "Coach, I'm not sure the Rondo is the best option here. I think a pick-and-roll could open up more scoring opportunities."

There's a brief silence in the gym as Natasha's eyes met yours and the unspoken challenge hung in the air. The team exchanged glances, unaware of the hidden disagreement unfolding before them.

Natasha stepped closer to you, seemingly unfazed. “Everyone else is going according to my plan,” she said loudly in the hall, her eyes never leaving you, “and you’re coming with me.”

Everyone looked at you with pity and you just wanted to sink into the ground in front of her. Natasha didn't looked away and then took a step back to go into her office. You run after her and hear a few whispers of “good luck.”

In Natasha's office, the weight of your opinion still weighed on you, and there was an underlying tension in the air. Natasha turned her gaze to you and lowered her gaze to your lips for a moment. A subtle, knowing smile played on Natasha's lips as she leaned in, her voice becoming a more sultry tone.

“I have to admit, that wasn’t so stupid. But beware of you questioning my competence in front of the team again." You look at her and nod, noticing how Natasha's hands go down to her pants, "Maybe it's time to put your talented mouth to better use. What do you think?"

The proposal hung in the air, laden with a seductive implication that transcended professional boundaries. You were caught in the magnetic pull of Natasha's words and felt heat rising within you.

Natasha unbuckled her belt, unzipped her pants, and then reached in to pull her cock out. The sight already made your mouth water, but you held back and looked into her cold eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for?” You barely had a chance to open your mouth before your Head was pushed down and her thick shaft was pushed between your lips.

“Yes, that’s it,” Natasha grunted, pushing herself forward until she was almost down your throat. “The only thing your little mouth is good for, right? Come on, suck it..”

The words stuck in your gut, creating a burning pit of pleasure that rushed down to your pussy, making you moan around the cock in your mouth. Natasha placed her hands on either side of your head and began fucking your mouth in earnest. “Fuck yes, that’s going to cum right down my little slut’s throat,” she gasped. “Yes, right there, y-yes, shit!”

You hesitantly swirled your tongue around the tip of her cock and were pleased when you heard her let out a shuddering "yes."

A little unsure, you moved your knee, came a little closer and wrapped a hand around the base of Natasha’s cock. Then you took more into your mouth, surprised that you were taking up so much space and gasping when you felt Natasha's finger tangle in your hair.

“Careful.” It was all muffled and raspy and quiet in a way that made your stomach clench with both desire and embarrassment. You begin sucking the cock like it was an oversized baby bottle and were rewarded with a deep growl of approval and a rather sharp tug on your hair.

You felt tears forming in your eyes, and you were too distracted by your body's reactions to realize that what you were doing was good. A shot of “Coming” slid down her throat as she came in your mouth, making you cough. You awkwardly try to swallow. One thing was for sure, though: this tasted much stronger than you expected, and you really wondered if you could ever get used to it.

You wipe away her remains and stand back up. Natasha already put her cock back in her pants and looked at you until she came to you and pulled you into a kiss. She let go and also wiped a small residue from your mouth with her thumb, “Good girl. Now let’s finish training outside.”

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

Text

To Hunt a Silver Stag (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Fae Princess!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: Arranged marriage, talks of childbirth, traditional views of women & men in medieval times, talks of war, death, heavy religious imagery/symbolism, blood, gore, sword wounds, stitches, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The wedding was fast approaching.

Your nightly conversations had now taken the tone of urgency—a newfound anxiety that perpetuated every inch of the courtyard. Discussion of all manner of flight; boats and horses, magic, and the simple act of dashing away in the small hours. Gaz would not be able to come with you, but he would give you all the time and distraction you would need when the time was right. The best option right now was the horses in the stable—cloak yourself as your knight made a commotion about an intruder on the opposite end of the castle. It was coming together, day after day. Until tonight.

Until you’d been summoned to have supper with the King and his court.

You sit now at the very opposite of the table from your betrothed, many eyes darting from the sides of sockets for even a glance at your face. Your crown is still present, along with your belt; your dress is of your collection, and you had seen the looks of disdain when you proudly wore it in—Gaz trailing behind through the main doors of the dining hall.

No one has called in the food yet. Now is the time for talk.

“I imagine you’ve had time to settle in, My Lady?” The King smiles like a snake, and your silver eyes miss nothing as the lines of his face contort; harsh leather and the dunes of sand. “Has my castle become a home to you?” In the corner of your vision, Gaz stands with his hands behind his back at the side of the room along with many other knights. A show of strength? Maybe.

But you don’t feel nervous about your confidant, though. The time for hesitation between the two of you has passed—it was all or nothing.

You speak slowly and clearly, face the picture of calm.

“It is a great thing to be able to see the works of mortal hands. It is an achievement, to be sure.” Your lashes move in a slow blink. “Yet, nothing can be a home such as the one I came from.”

“Ah,” Michael takes it in stride, nodding as the men at the sides of the table glance at one another, sneering. As if saying that you were homesick was a sin of some sort. Brown eyes continue to be locked on your measured body—sitting straight and your hands in your lap. “Yes. I understand. Many have heard of the splendor of your homeland.”

The sconces on the walls flicker. This feels like more of an interrogation than a supper.

“It is a place very few see,” you speak slowly, thinking what this game might entail. “Those that do are left changed. Such is how it has always been.”

“My children will have equal claim, then?” Michael smiles, and the court’s eyes glint. “To the lands?”

Your body stills, gaze unwavering as your piercing orbs level across the table. The very air shifts in an instant.

“Repeat yourself,” you order slowly.

The court blinks quickly, some even straighten in their chairs. Gaz’s feet shift near the window—his lips flattening on his face as he takes a low breath down his nose. Your tone made the hairs on his arms raise by themselves, something primal in the way you articulate.

Yet, the King seems to not know that there’s a line not to be crossed with you. He can’t understand the nearly inextinguishable loyalty to your own—to your people. No rat-like mortal man would ever amount. No kingdom made of stone and iron.

Your fingers tighten under the table, sharpness breeding in your skin.

Any further insinuation on his part was suddenly very detrimental to his survival rate. Your magic flows through you, and the sparse, and nearly dead, potted plants near the corners of the room quiver. Gaz notices immediately, his jaw subtly clenching.

Not here, he wants to tell you, his feet shifting with anticipation. Fucking hell, not here, Stag.

But he served a King that he could never love—you served a kingdom that you would give your immortal life for in an instant.

His Highness tilts his head, eyes glinting as your silver hue sparks up like a candle’s flames.

“It’s an honest question, is it not?” Michael huffs, moving one of his hands to call the servants to bring in supper. Your senses go into overdrive as the large doors open, blinking quickly at the humming in the air that only increases as the staff moves closer.

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, eyes lightly flinching as a headache begins to form. You can’t even answer the King, and your magic halts itself immediately as your head snaps to the side in horror.

Iron.

You can’t see the King’s slow smirk as the iron platters are carried in, placed on the table in great heaps of glorious spoils. Large pigs and birds stuffed with vegetables—on the very material that makes your hands begin to shake as the tops are taken off with great showmanship. As if this was an achievement.

A platter is dropped ahead of you with a clink of metal to wood, but your eyes only stare at the dead ones that smugly look right back as your heart constricts.

Gaz’s wide expression is frozen on his face, body immobile at the cruel display so openly perpetuated by the court. His hands tighten into fists, eyes darting back and forth from you to the iron and the death on the table. He can see the way your muscles tense, the way your fingers twitch and flinch.

“So,” the King motions again. “I ask, will my Heir have a claim to the Fae thrown?”

“Not in a million years,” you say slowly at first, your mind addled and skin beginning to sweat. The King stills—just like everyone else in the room. A shiver of rage filters behind those rat eyes as you continue. “Not in the seasons of the Mothers, not in an hour of contemplation, a day of rage, or even the seconds it would take for a Basilisk to devour your wretched corpse.”

It was a wonder you kept your composure as your hands rose from under the table—heart palpitating as a low growl raised from the table. Yet, everyone is shocked at what you do next.

Your hands grasp the ironware and Gaz has already set a firm step forward in a mute panic of wide eyes and a sucked-in breath—but he’s too late.

You ignore the burn; the agony that rips through your hands and your bones, killing your soul and making your skin itch like it was on fire. Maybe it was. The iron is heavy in your hands as you glare at the King with every ounce of hate a creature as old as you can hold.

You stab at a piece of food, hold the fork aloft, and hiss on a tight, strained breath.

“Not even if the cold iron in my palm turns to pure gold will I see any child of yours growing in my womb.” Your hand moves forward, and with a slow bite, you take down a piece of the greasy and roasted corpse; holding back a gag as your skin boils and blisters under the iron’s hold.

The food slams into your stomach as if a rock.

It’s a curse you level with no magic besides your hatred, and that in and of itself is far more potent.

The King’s shocked nature turns to confusion, and then to a swift and all-consuming rage.

“Chain her,” he whispers at first, a quiet murmur above the horror of the faces of the court. Then he screams and stands up, slamming his hands to the table with actions half his age. A petulant child. A greedy little boy. “Chain her!”

A hand grasps yours and rips the fork from your grasp, hurling it halfway up the table by the time you can register above your blackening gaze that Gaz is forcing a ripped strip of his cape into the weeping flesh.

“Christ,” he gasps, quickly glancing at your face as your crown dips and moves as your head does. Everything is buzzing—even being close to this much iron leaves you weak.

You suck down large breaths, but there’s no time for this.

“Chain her!” King Michael screeches. “I want her in the dungeons!”

Your arm is taken up, your feet sliding over the floor as Gaz drags you up, shoving you behind him. The sound of a sword being drawn is enough to momentarily snap you out of your agony, your hand shaking violently as you breathe hard and bend your spine forward slightly.

You blink wildly, gasping at the scene ahead of you.

Your knight stands firm ahead of you, his back wide and shielding you from the risen court and the King. The other knights in the room watch with wide eyes, hands on their weapons in utter confusion.

“I’d stay back if you knew what was best for you,” Gaz eases out, casual in his delivery but you can hear the rapid pound of his heart. He’s nervous. Incredibly so—adrenaline striking through his veins just as it does yours.

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t right; he wasn’t supposed to be involved.

“Gaz,” you stutter, so strange to hear yourself in a state of anxiety after so many years of calm and elegance. There’s nothing elegant about you now. “Do not.”

He was throwing away everything he’d worked for.

“Stay behind me,” the knight mutters, his dark eyes searching the room for anyone to move forward and attack—none do. “Don’t move until I tell you to, yeah?” He had a reputation for being a skilled swordsman; no one here would risk rushing without more weapons at the ready.

Gaz’s sword rests easily in his right hand, the left going to unsheathe his dagger and let it rest at his side, fingers twitching around the hilt as he takes a slow breath, eyes traveling the room.

They land on the King, face contorted into the picture of wrath, wrinkled, and old body shaking.

“Step aside, boy,” Michael says lowly. “And I’ll let you walk with your head.”

“Wouldn’t be much good to me if I allowed this to happen, would it,” Gaz tilts his skull, a flicker of a smirk on his lips. Seriousness slips back in on the backs of knife edges. “Cut your losses. Let her leave, she doesn’t want this.”

“I don’t care what this creature wants,” the King shouts, moving out from the table and taking firm steps forward, his knight flanking him as the court goers, back up quickly; panic in their eyes. “It’s going to give me power.”

A greedy gaze finds yours behind the swell of Gaz’s back—hearing your Knight’s growl at the next words to enter the tense dining hall.

“Whether she agrees to it or not.”

Your face twists, a sliver of fear making your legs back up a step. Magic, you needed your magic. But the iron—there’s so much of it here; it’s infecting your mind like a bug in the back of your brain. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

You shake your head, uninjured hand coming up to dig your fingers into your temple.

Gaz spits, “Not fucking happening, you old bastard.” His silver sword raises, and with a twirl of his wrist, sending the blade in an arch, the tip is leveled into the air. “You’ll have to get through me first, won’t you?”

“I will not—!” The King stumbles for a moment, body shaking and legs loose. One of his hands snaps to his chest and he blinks to himself, cape dragging across the floor. A ragged cough moves out of his mouth.

You move forward sluggishly, hand resting itself on the back of Gaz’s armored spine as he startles and looks over his shoulder at you.

“Stag,” he warns in an accented mutter, but your eyes are not gazing at him. They’re on the King.

On his failing heart and its broken beating.

The man’s breath is in a gasp, his orbs snapping to and fro like a rabbit as he reaches out a hand, a swift cry from the other men making the knights dash. They grab at him just before he slams to the ground, but one of the court’s men shouts out fearfully, “It’s her—she’s done something!”

“Grab her!”

“Cast her into the irons!”

“She’s killing out King!”

Gaz dashes on his heels, hooking an arm around your waist as you pant, unbelieving as to what is happening. Killing? No, you hadn’t even done anything—this wasn’t your fault!

“Run,” the knight barks, shoving you out of the door and into the hallway. “Damnit, Stag, you need to bloody go. Now!” His browns lock with your silver eyes, stiff until they soften at your blatant shocked fear. A beat of nothingness comes back to the both of you—memories of a courtyard and a cape around your shoulders. You stare, fingers shaking and blood pooling into the makeshift bandage of your palm.

“No, no! What about you?” He shakes his head, and in a swift moment, his gaze goes back to the clamor of commotion—of horrible cries of ‘the King is dead! The King is dead!’

A thin smirk makes your face burn with panic.

“I need to give you an exit, remember?” A tiny wink. “Thank me later, Princess, when you’re safe. Go home.”

He nods pushing on your shoulder delicately. Backing up and twirling his sword again as he licks his lips. You watch, crown more heavy than it had ever been before.

Gaz looks at you as if you’re the only person to ever exist—just as he had when you’d restored the courtyard to glory he’d never seen it in before. He glances down your face, down your body, in all of the time those few seconds were before the yells from the other knights start up—angry, furious, from behind.

He calls firmly, bluntly, but the words are more layered than even you can know. Gaz whispers, his eyes so light and open it leaves you breathless like all of the air has turned to water. You’re drowning in it.

“You don’t belong here.”

You try to step forward, desperate in a way you’d never been to grapple for this mortal man, but the door has already shut right in your face with a heavy boom. An iron bolt is locked in place.

—

The trees try to pull their branches aside as you rush through them, but your fast feet are too quick. Sharp wood slaps your cheeks, pulling at the long strands of your dress and the broken straps of your corset.

You run over rocks, and feel the earth guide you along deep in your soul, not once do you stumble, not once do you falter besides once—to turn and glance. To cast your wide eyes on the fading fire-light of the castle; the sounds of bells ringing out.

Gaz.

He was still back there—fighting. When you had to rip yourself away from the door and rush down the stone corridors, you’d heard the clash of iron and silver against one another; shouts. Like battling wolves, all rabid teeth and a flurry of slitted eyes. Such violence here—such baseless malice.

A King was going to put you in chains, and by whatever deity is truly out there, his heart had given out just in time. And your knight. Your sacrificial knight was left behind.

He can take care of himself, you try to ease, bare feet jumping a stream as your injured palm burns with a thousand suns. I have to place my trust in him. I have to.

He had told you to go home—flee. Back to your castle that touches the sky, back to magic and trees older than any man, woman, or child. Sliding along the ground, you halt.

Atop your head, your crown is crooked, and some of the gems have fallen off, glinting behind you in the upturned earth. Panting, you twist on your feet, moving them like a deer and unable to properly think. This had never happened to you before—this…this pain. Not just the one in your hand but the one that emanates from your heart.

Gaz.

In such a short time, day, weeks, he’d grabbed your immortality and made it stop. You had become mortal with him, and a part of you is mortal yet. He’d touched you—he’d grappled into the place between your ribs and made you care about him. His wonder; his awe for no other reason than he was kind. Hand coming up to grasp at your neck, you fight the burn in your eyes, something that had not happened in decades, trying to drag you back into tears.

You cover your mouth, eyes shut tight.

No, no.

“This cannot be happening,” you gasp in a whisper that moves the trees; eyes watch from bushes. “No, no this isn’t true, do not speak of it,” you whimper to the branches, to their hidden words that pierce your heaving lungs. “I need to go home, I must see the ages pass with no bias—I can not grow attached to a knight. Not to one that death can touch so easily! Do you not understand?!”

Shouts ring into the trees, and your head snaps up, face tight.

Why can’t you go any farther? No curse holds you here! No spell, no enchantment! You are a God to them! You make the world grow with only a word, you carry life and death as if it is a suggestion! This is not probable—it isn't logical.

And then you think about the man who had freely given up everything for you in chains, and your sob echoes over the woods like a brand.

Fleeing once more, you go not in the direction of home, a place so very far away, but in the direction of a large mound of stone—speaking to them through bitter tears and making you lick at the sides of your mouth. Torchlight moves through the trunks of silent sentinels as the rock itself splinters and breaks, your body slipping inside a cage of your own making before you collapse.

The stone groans and breaks and it is like you were never there as the ground shifts—moving the tracks you’d left behind in newly tilled earth. Countless horses rush past, their knight riders with iron bindings swinging from their fists, oblivious.

But the stone you panic inside of is no worthy prison. Even you knew: there was no greater cage for a Fae than love.

—

Gaz stumbled through the woods, his right leg dragging behind as he gritted his teeth harder, panting through the drops of blood that slipped over his lips.

“Fuck,” he grunts, collapsing against one of the tree’s trunks and resting the side of his head against it. “Fuck.”

He’d barely made it out.

The castle was overrun with knights, guards, the people, and the court—all of them. The King was dead. Dead, and they were blaming it on you.

“Serves him right,” Gaz pushes on, eyes fluttering shut as blood slides over his armor. He doesn’t know where the wounds start and where they end, but he does know that he has to keep walking. There’s a trail to follow, and the earth is showing it to him.

The man can’t stop until he knows you’re alright.

Panting, the gems on the ground are one by one plucked and pocketed, kept safe in the same pouch that once held his sigil ring; an achievement he’d been proud of himself for.

A knight, he’d told his family—his friends. It was a station of the highest honor.

Look what that had gotten him. Serving a bastard who called himself a God. Who pushed judgments and demanded utter loyalty to them.

Gaz would rather hang.

Coughing, blood splatters to the ground, and on the bank of a small river, his dragging feet fail him. Falling forward, the tattered remains of Gaz’s cape fluttered around him as his hands splattered through the water. A chilled breeze rushes through the trees, waking them.

He restrains himself from crying out, eyes clenched shut as his forehead skates the water. The clear liquid goes crimson with every wave, like the remnants of a fresh kill.

Body too weak to move, Gaz growls in defiance, slamming a fist into the mud and shoving forward.

He had to find you. He had to make sure you were making your way back home safely—he…he had to fix the wrongs that he hadn’t even been a part of. Even by association, the knight was layered with a horrible guilt. Gaz can’t forget your eyes—your silver tint and the way your head moved; the way you spoke.

A stag. A deer. A hart. A creature that needed to be set free from the confines of stone and iron. He’d do it all over, but that was just his nature. Gaz was just—he was good. Kind.

Even the trees knew that.

Raising his head, vision blurry, brown eyes lock onto the tiny body of a white dove.

Staring, Gaz’s face slackens, blinking through the water and the blood until the image in front of him becomes clearer.

“L,” he stutters, voice failing before he clears his throat and forces himself further upwards as his arms scream at him. “Lysander?”

The bird has its head cocked to the side, a black obsidian orb stuck on him. It doesn't coo or flap its wings—it watches. Waits. Without anything, it takes to the air and flutters over to a large stump, body hopping until it rests once more with tapping feet.

Again, it stares.

Gaz gapes at it, moonlight over his armor, making it glint and shine even with the dents and long cuts. A flicker of hope beats in his breast, and with a deep breath and a broken groan of pain, his failing body is once more on its two feet.

“Take me to her,” he pleads in a breathy exhale.

Gaz may not be able to stalk like a wolf, or even walk like a human now, but if there was a sliver of a chance that a Fae princess was waiting for him, he’d follow even if he had to drag himself there on busted legs.

Lysander’s beak clicks and the bird flies from one landmark to another, following the trail of gems and leading the broken knight behind him.

On and on Gaz walks, not able to stop for fear he may not be able to get back up again. His pouch becomes heavy, his body likely to give out any second, when Lysander flutters atop a large stone face and finally stops. Collapsing to the ground, the knight coughs up blood to the ground, body a heap on the ground earth as he rests his head and pants like an animal.

“Christ,” he gasps, eyes fluttering as darkness begins to swallow him; a maw of a dragon right over his form, waiting to chomp down. “Where…” Gaz begins to ask, flesh shivering even through all of the layers of sweat he carries.

Where are you?

Brown eyes move from the bird to the trees, through the gaps between the trunks and the spilling moonlight. You were nowhere—nothing to be seen except the eyes of animals and the wind moving the branches of the silent watchers of this place. The trees here move, trying to tell him something. Ever since he’d met you, everything had taken on new meaning.

Gaz tried to focus on breathing, but it was getting harder and harder to keep conscious.

Lysander was doing something at the rock face—tapping his beak against the surface in steady intervals, only pausing to look down at him and tilt his head as if to ask, ‘Still alive down there?”

The knight glares at the bird, body losing strength until his chest connects down to the ground, eyes gazing off into the trees as the wind caresses his cheeks.

It was calm here. Gaz’s ears twitched at the sound of rock and stone, but the rapid hands on his cheeks captured his attention more than anything. His body is forced onto his back, a wide, terrified face blurred in front of him.

But that voice…

“Gaz!”

Oh, he could fall into this abyss happily if the last words he heard were you calling his name.

—

You rip the last of the hem of your dress to use as bandages and see your hands quiver in all of their blood-stained glory. Along the cuts in Gaz’s skin, you had threaded through the gold that had once belonged to your antlered crown—the needle, a fragment of the very same bone you had broken along a rock. You’d raced to the river and asked the water for help, and it had followed swiftly with the help of the wind to clean wounds and aches.

Now, you were wrapping what was left, the night beginning to slink back into the morning as you kept the break in the cliff face open to the air. The grass was awash with blood.

You both can’t stay here if you want to live by tomorrow.

Lysander had brought Gaz to you, and now, he lays on the ground with his cape under his head—your hands healing him the best you can. You poured your magic tirelessly, hour after hour, but you had to focus on the worst wounds first.

The slit on his stomach, namely—from an axe or some larger weapon, you know not, but it had left most of the carnage that needed to be attended to. If you were anything less than Fae, Gaz would be dead.

The thought ravaged your mind like a boar through undergrowth.

“You were not supposed to do that,” you mutter, fingers running the length of his tunic and grasping it, pulling the article down to hide the large scar that now moves up his stomach. Your head is light from the power it took. Plants and animals were so much easier; less to work with than human flesh. “Damn you, Knight. I would damn your name as well if I had the horrific pleasure of knowing it. Damn you.”

Such words were below you, but you can’t help how they come out.

You stare at his face, the light of morning barely giving it illumination. He breathes softly, and it is your only relief to watch his chest rise and fall—broken armor discarded to the side by your panicked fingers. His heartbeat.

Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump.

Your eyes flutter to it, trying to ease yourself as you take a deep breath and think.

You’re still too close to the castle for your liking. But he’s far too broken to move so soon.

Finger reaching out, your tips trail the raised skin of your glinting stitches, gold stuck between the flesh, peeling it back together along the forearm. All of it will scar. Violently so.

Your chest constricts, and you glare at his face.

“Why would you do that,” you hiss, growling in a tone that is foreign to you even if it still sounds elegant. A Fae’s wrath is one to behold. “Why? You owe me nothing, do you not understand that? You’re supposed to be a beast—a little man who…who…” you trail, teeth snapping as your head raises and whips away, nose to the air.

Yet, your crown had been broken just to save this human’s life. Willingly.

Mortals were supposed to be selfish. They were supposed to be like King Michael—that was what you’d been taught; that was what you knew.

But everything Gaz did was the opposite of that.

Love is a cage, you tell yourself again, and keep your face to the side. Unwilling to look down at the body that had been so eager to defend you.

You don’t like the wild feeling it makes breed like rodents in your heart, little claws moving up your throat and scratching at your teeth.

“...Gonna finish that sentence, Love?”

Your body startles, head snapping down to meet half-closed browns in an instant—you hiss. “Don’t speak, fool.”

“Fool?” A weak chuckle wafts out, a hoarse voice as a head tries to shift on numb bone. “That’s not very nice, then.”

“I should make your lungs turn to dirt,” your sentence makes his brow flinch upwards, amused despite it all. “Change the very fabric of your muscle into oak wood.”

“Moody, are you?”

Your eyes flash, and the grass around you shudders in answer as Lysander cleans his feathers a short distance away. Gaz tries a low smirk, softening his voice as his mind tries to focus above the noise in his head. “Joking.”

Your face is troubled, jaw clenching. You can’t admit to yourself how much at ease his open eyes put you. You sigh, blinking away the sharp edge of your expression—it shifts back to the perfect calm it always wears.

Gaz watches, your clothes torn and your palm still hidden away behind his cape’s cloth. He grunts suddenly, and the pain comes back in sharp pins as his face tightens.

You can only watch, mind trying to come up with a solution that you know you don’t have. Magic can only do so much...but you have to try. He’s earned that much from you, at the very least. Your hand goes and hovers over the man’s cheek, pulling back only once before it captures the swell of it.

Gaz swallows hard, and his eyes shift back through the haze of his shaking agony.

A kiss is leveled on his forehead, and it’s like the wounds cease to exist. He sags back onto the ground after a moment, skin tingling as magic runs its course through him like a stream of fire. It burns away the bad bits—keeping only the sensation of a princess pushing away his ails with a willing gift of her lips.

A small noise is made in the back of his throat before Gaz takes a long and steady breath. His eyelids flutter.

You pull back and place a hand on your head, grunting as the strength drains from you one wisp of magic at a time. Your skull pulses, and you know you’ve reached your limit. There was nothing more you could do.

A calloused hand runs up to grasp at your wrist, and you let Gaz pull it back, his fingers twitching with healing nerves as he takes the limb and levels it at his lips. He holds it there until you open your eyes and look at him, a line of sweat running your temple. The knight watches it fall, skin hot.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your hand, only letting it move away when he knows you understand his words. Gaz whispers even as his eyes fight sleep. “Are you hurt, My Lady?”

“Right now,” your injured hand still burns—it always will. You restrain a flinch because of it. “You must focus on yourself, Knight. Such concerns are not needed. You almost gave your life for me.”

The last sentence is uttered no more than a squeak of a mouse in an open field. The thought…troubles you. It…it makes you want to run.

Gaz smiles slowly, body mostly still.

“Well, I can’t let a beauty like you get hurt now, can I? That would just be bloody wrong of me.” A pause. You don’t seem to find his jokes very funny. Gaz’s heart skips beats when you look at him like that. He softens, and your hand once more runs the length of his bandages, making him shiver. It was addicting: touching him. Feeling the heat of his flesh.

“I’d do it again,” Gaz mutters. “I took an oath.”

“An oath to a King that was worth less than a rock on the bottom of the ocean,” you whisper. “It means nothing now.”

“It was never nothing to me.” Gaz’s eyes don’t leave yours. “Fighting for you will never be nothing.”

You shake slightly, face heating up. All of this is wrong to you—foreign. But why does it make you feel like everything will be okay?

“I didn’t ask for your protection, Gaz,” you try once more. One final attempt to keep your slipping self-control. Weak fingers skate your chin, usually such a high and mighty thing, now stooped low and bent just to gaze upon the feeble body of a broken mortal man.

A man who will die in a blink. A man that should never have made a dent in your unbreakable mind; your knowledge of lives innumerable. A man that you can’t look away from as he smiles at you like that. Softy. Openly.

Kindly.

Love is a cage.

“You never had to ask me, Stag…I would give my name to you, even if it was the last thing I had left of me.”

Your eyes widen; your breath hitches as if you’d been stabbed in the heart. You nearly reel back, horror and something more trapped in every vein in your body. Ludicrous. That…that was absurd. Laughable!

His name? No, no never. That was a lie; a trick. Something so powerful, just to be uttered away like that by a bloodless mind. No.

But not a single part of him is lying. Your jaw is slack in pure wonder. Struck dumb.

He wasn’t lying.

A low breeze goes through the trees—it slips past tattered clothes and the crimson grass. Whispering; talking in tongues you can’t understand at the moment above the noise from Gaz’s eyes. He’s still smiling at you, a knowing glint in his orbs as his fingers squeeze your chin. You catch his hand before it falls, grasping it without looking away. His pulse sings, and his throat releases a hum.

If love is a cage, you’d never wanted to be a prisoner more.

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